Crows Murder

The Sails billowed in the wind while the captain shouted his commands to one of his crewmembers. The port was close and Crow knew that in these moments the experienced captains would win it from those that were new in their trade of work. He had to manoeuvre the ship just right to keep it from scalping cliffs and port safely at the docks. The entire time his slave had been below deck, out of view of the lustful crewmembers that could make his stay on the ship far from pleasant if they would hit the sul paga to hard. Crow was even now careful, calculated and very much aware of risks, problems or things that might harm his quest.

 
When they had left the dock he had given the Peacock thought. He wondered about a place – called Earth – were love between men and women might be equal. He himself found himself a hard believer that such things could exist. Perhaps it was the idea that she would draw to much attention to herself and perhaps succeed. She was a remarkable woman that had a lifetime of experiences that would fill many nights of storytelling. The last something he often enjoyed, but only when he choose so.

 
The hand that had been around throats to squeeze their last breath now rested on the wood of the ship. A hand that could tell as many stories and yet still able to caress softly or wield a blade with precision. Was it his independence that had him walk away ? He noticed his girl kneel next to him, after calling for her now the Port was in view. Why was she there and the Peacock not ? Perhaps there was this part of him that knew that she was of no use to him as a slave. Perhaps his age of taming women to beautiful and exquisite slaves were over. He brushed the hair of her shoulder and gave her one of his rare smiles. “Nearly there, mine.” He stated. “Prepare – since I won’t dwell long on this ship when we have docked.” He added.

 
The girl hurried to do his bidding and while she did, he knew he could have predicted her eagerness to do as she was told. Even this slave held perhaps that longing for being in his arms, his care for he wasn’t careless when it came to slaves and this one was one he had known over years. She was funny, talkative and sensual, things that humoured him when he was at camp – far from others that were not part of his caste. In his camp he felt at home, a place where he could joke, just listen without being alert all the time. The camp was as always good secured and circled with traps that would alarm him in time.

 
He narrowed his eyes to see in the distance the dock that held many banners. The ribbons seemed to be of all colours and welcoming to strangers that would make their halt there. “Some things need to remain uncaged and untamed.” He mused while his thoughts went back to Su. “A Peacock would pull its own feathers when it is caged to small. A collar of me – would be too small for a woman as you – Peacock” he whispered in the wind as if he hoped the breeze would carry it to her. “Your beauty and new found life should be celebrated in many places not in the presence of darkness or shadows.” He added in an afterthought.

 
 A world so far from his own, might have given him more options.
 A world so far from his own, might have given him more things to consider.
 A world so far from his own, might have been foreign and with alternatives.
 In his mind there was only one world. A world that is uncompromising to his manhood. A world that gave him no things to consider but his own caste and comfort. A world that was known and with only one option.

He was alone with gold and steel.

But, she wasn’t finished with him and if there was one trait her prior culture had taught, it was the proverb of perseverance. She raised the bag to Crow’s line of just as he pivoted and turned from her, denying her the opportunity to expound what resided not only in her mind, but as also her soul.

She elevated the bag to eye level where the coins clinked in unison as the metal struck each. Crow had given her enough money to start a new life several times over. But, the wealth the assassin had imparted with her as a final gift was birthed from the blood of his victims. Crow had probably ended more lives than her current age and still it was not enough for her.
“Baka (You fool).” She bellowed out to him in her native tongue just he began to board the ship and depart. One thing she had known Crow was good for conversation and departure, “Don’t you know what is in front of your eyes? A frog in a well does not know the great Thassa when he sees it.”

She had tried the assassin’s path in her own stead – relying on instinct, brains, and brawn. But, it was not living… it could never be living. It was rudimentary survival mode and one withered quickly from that form reactionary existence. The web which she had weaved from years of self-defense, even within the collar had begun to unravel like a woman unbraiding her hair. She mobilized towards the dock just as the crewmen lifted the plank. All she needed to do was migrate down the hill at a hastened pace and execute her need. Yurei was aware that it was most likely futile to speak to Crow as he continued his obstinate refusal of listening to her. But, she knew damn well he could hear.

The men had now ensconced themselves upon the ship and the captain bellowed for the sails to be set, just as the plank separated them. Her insolence was noted and she was aware she would anger Crow. However, this time, she was not seeking the proverbial upper-hand or dominance over a situation that seemed to never go her way. She realized this: there was no power she could possess where a man ruled as his will and purpose would be served first. A slight breeze accumulated which pressured the snow-colored sails. The wind would separate her from the man whom all the omens had been gesturing too and he would slip away like the evanescent tides which Thassa herself birthed.
Impermanence was abundant in Gor and a relatively present day reality. However, she had remembered hearing a story in Ar about a warrior who had declared his love for an unremarkable barbarian girl. What was the fellow’s name again? She was certain it was something beginning with a C… but his name continued to change as the story was passed from slave to slave. At some point, wasn’t he called Climate Vitelion? The absolute details of the story were obscure and changed too often to remember every minute fact, but it occurred as something like this: a warrior allegedly stepped up on the auction block of the Curulean and challenged an auctioneer for a barbarian slut. He asserted his love and gained her back. That meant he had had to give her up first, right? It was confusing and it was a dream which slave girls shared in hopes of one day finding their love masters. Albeit it seemed hopeless, there was nothing wrong with occasional faith.
Her heart pounded as she began the descent towards the dock. If she had watched her footing, she would have noticed the small rocks uprooting the path which were heavily concealed by the small blankets of snow.

Another proverb she read from the scrolls of childhood narrated that that if one does not enter the larl’s lair, that adventurer will not catch its cub. Something had to be accounted for and action had to be taken. If Crow rejected her a second time, she would simply return to the refuge of the forest and live out her life amongst nature. Besides, the world beyond cities and the laws of men offered a respite more appealing than the recycling chaos civilization seemed to afford her. If she could survive orphan she-urt living as an adolescent, she could master the Northern Forests as an old woman. But, this time she wouldn’t allow bitterness to consume her like it used too. While her people used to note during rare moments of adversity: One can stumble seven times but recover eight. Her will was as solid as the iron and steel which used to embrace her slender neck. It was unyielding and uncompromising, equal to that of a man’s. But within the last hand or so, her subsequent epiphany revealed that love, no matter how vague or strange it was, was stronger.

“I will never ask you to love me, Crow. I will never ask you to surrender your ideals, caste, or principles. I have no right to do that. But, I am asking you to keep me. Let me come with you. Take me with you… as whatever you want.”

Her expression matched the genuine poignancy of her request. Crow, and nearly just about every man she had encountered with whom she had established amiable or unfavorable terms were aware of her Machiavellian nature. If she and Talena met, there would be difficulty in determining who was the more devious. But, unlike Talena, she had no designs on power and had absolutely no qualms to rule. Yurei had the heart of a Tatrix at times, but lacked the soul and ambition to execute what needed to be done to gain that role. Talena was never raised to please and service men from the moment of birth like Yurei had to do. She never learned the intricacies of shady dealings as a teenage she-urt. She never possessed a mother who would sacrifice public property, slaves, and life itself to ascertain her daughter’s freedom. She never learned the ins and outs of being an ambassadress. She had never carried a child under her heart for nine months. Indeed, Talena was many things and perhaps more; but she would never be the woman whom Yurei was in this very moment and who Suyuan used to be.

Her lengthened gown barely gave her the opportunity to catch herself and the shredding of fabric resonated through the bare branches of which she began to pass. The bag remained in her hand during this time. She was departing the safety of the forest to approach a veritable executioner… one whom saved her life and now was taking flight like the birds of her childhood and visions. Talena, who could have been an alter-ego to her became paralyzed and expired within her heart.

She continued her descent down the hill when the shredding of fabric inundated her ears. Her gaze immediately traveled to the hem of Alesia’s slave livery with which she had stolen. She slipped on one of the expertly concealed rocks and collapsed onto her back while her ass collided into the ground with an audible thud. She began sliding down the hill at rapid speed and she flailing, reaching for whatever shrubs and branches she could get a hold of. Crow’s pouch inadvertently had been released from her grasp and landed on the cold boards of the dock. The pouch flew open, dispersing the gold tarns across the icy dock boards until they resembled constellations, glittering beneath Tor-tu-Gor’s influence.

Yurei clamored on the dock and scrapped her knees as she lifted herself to an ironic she-sleen position. Her hair had become tangled and her amber eyes were broad and wild with surprise. But, her momentary clumsiness was soon overcome as she attempted to lift herself to her feet. The ship was drifting further away and the laughter of the crewmen resembled an agitating buzz. It was like a bee had decided to flutter around her head without stinging her. Her head throbbed inexplicably and she felt something moist and warm dripping from a particular region of her head and percolating on the wooden boards. She glimpsed down and noticed blood had stained one of Crow’s gold pieces.

She had hit her head upon one of the uprooted rocks which the snow concealed from her. She hadn’t even realized this until now.

——

Katsumi, the old diviner of the Pani tarn camp regarded Suyuan with a solemn expression as Mizumi held her daughter in a protective embrace.
“The other agent will carry gold collected from lives he has extinguished. The gold he carries the souls of the lives he has taken. The souls require a price for the misery the agent has caused… and it requires the life of his twin soul. His twin must never encounter the tainted gold or else it will take her.”
“Katsumi-sama! What are you saying?!” Mizumi’s usually serene and pensive disposition faltered as she raised her manicured hand to her daughter’s head and pushed her cheek against her breast.
The blind diviner stared directly ahead as the incense curled around her wrinkled face. She was frightening to glimpse at as her azure eyes stared into nothingness. But, she could witness things others could not.
“The souls must be appeased by a sacrifice of love… and when the right moment arrives for the twin to reveal her love, they will take her from him.”

——

She had hoped to invoke something from Crow. However, he wore his stubbornness like a favored tunic; always familiar, enticing, and comfortable. They both seemed to be drowning in their prides.

Her weakness proved to be insuperable even for this moment of revelation. As she attempted to regain her equilibrium, her boot haphazardly stepped on one of Crow’s gold coins – and she slipped again. The splash was quite audible, causing some of the distracted crew members to glimpse over the side of the ship to discern a figure plunging into the river.

“Man overboard!” One bellowed out as the crew went frantic.
“It’s just an ugly, scarred Tuchuk slut.” Remarked one man whose wind-beaten features were as callous as his soul. “There are plenty like her in Turia.” He chuckled and retired below deck.

She thrashed under the currents, attempting to break the surface with her panicked flailing. However, the more she struggled, the further the undertow seemed determined to consume her.

The water proved to be a reprieve from the situation. The balance of where she was a woman – slave or panther was tested as the river swiftly pulled at her. The rapid, bubbling surface was a startling contrast to the seemingly, placid mien of the cold, icy river. The struggle mimicked both Yurei’s and Crow’s souls and how they would seem to perpetually meet but never merge into a single union. While the crew men attempted to rescue her, the river seemed to have swallowed Yurei indefinitely. She never broached the surface and never climbed onto the safety of the bank.
The gold coins continued to gleam under the steadily rising run. It seemed Tor-tu-Gor was oblivious to all that was happening beneath her. There was a speckling of blood upon a few despite the rapid scintillating of the rest of Crow’s coins. It was Yurei’s blood which had splattered from the wound on her head right before she succumbed to the river. A black bird settled upon one of the shrub branches which Yurei had inadvertently broken in her descent to the dock. It cawed several times before taking flight and it soared towards the ship where it glided among the sails before departing for what seemed to be the open Thassa. A black bird in winter was certainly a rare sight The crewmen could not find Yurei’s body and after a pain-staking search, they agreed she was lost to river sleens. But, no blood had bubbled up where Yurei had struggled and neither had the river revealed any signs of aquatic sleen. As the ship departed, one crewman noted the patterning on the dock which the Pani woman had originally stood upon: blood, gold, and sunlight.

—————————————————
But then she awakened from that dream upon the physician’s bed. She raised the back of her hand to her forehead to wipe away the fresh perspiration. She realized… it was a nightmare. “Mistress, Mistress! Are you all right?” The sweet-faced slave regarded her thoughtfully as she pressed the cool cloth to her forehead. Yurei waited for her breath stabilize and gain some measure of equilibrium.

It had been nearly a hand since Crow left and she realized she was dreaming of what might occur if she pursued Crow. She felt Crow’s money bag safely concealed beneath her blankets.

She knew what she had to do now.

Crow watched the crewmen prepare the ship fort heir departure. The men rough, weathered by the conditions of being on these travels. He had seen their eyes upon his girl and couldn’t blame them. The men should perhaps been used to the long hands of not releasing their lust upon female flesh, were still just men that wished it – perhaps more frequent then their job allowed. Perhaps he would grant them their pleasure with his slave, but most often he did not. He wasn’t a man that coddled his slaves, but knew their value and wouldn’t throw it before another if they weren’t worthy of it. His thoughts went to the captain that had proven to be a loyal and trustworthy fellow. He would be granted the privilege however might not accept it. He didn’t allow any of his crewmembers to take over the steering wheel.

 
Crow spied from the corner of his eye the Peacock and grinned. For a part he had been able to predict that she would follow, even if it meant risking her own health. She was stubborn just as he was, he gathered. A foolish woman that not followed her mind but her feelings. Something he tried to control so hard within his own. He wasn’t without them, but no longer he would be guided by them at the expense of his health or life. This was perhaps why he was a damn good Assassin. He took death as his defeat to his own codes, although completely aware that time or age eventually would catch him. The captain raised a brow when the Peacock addressed Crow, but with a small wave of his hand he knew that there was no reason to delay his departure.

 
Crow looked down upon the woman – perhaps with that look of amusement. He had been right in his own predictions, after all. “I doubt that to be true, Peacock.” He called down to her. He saw the pouch in her hand. “I hope you haven’t stolen the part which was meant for the Physician, woman.” he teased. Some of the crew chuckled at that statement. “I am sure that if you did, these men would know how to put a thief in place.” He said a little harder so he was sure these men would pay more attention. “I have said all I needed to say, Peacock. There is no business between us.” He stated. He wouldn’t even accept her gold for a contract she might wish to carry out. It was important that she would understand the complete separation Crow desired. “Now return. I doubt you are in any shape to travel.” The crewmembers continued their last preparations to leave and boarded the ship and removed the plank so anyone else could come aboard.

 
Crow nodded to the captain when he asked if he was ready to leave. “Go Peacock and don’t make me regret the fact I let you live.” He said with a voice that held little room for debate. “Our ways part here – Peacock. Perhaps in time we might ruffle each other feathers. But first those of yours need to heal so your wings will be ready when you fly.” With that he lifted his hand in a gesture of farewell. He was certain – as he had been for her to follow – that in time they would meet again. The question would be if she would be free, slave or dead. He could make a wager about it, but did not. There was none to wager with. With that he turned his back while the ship started to part of the spot it had been. The sails were lifted so the breeze would eventually take them to the destination he had given.

 
Perhaps he seemed heartless by not allowing her to speak further, but he was certain that his harshness eventually would be more satisfying then if he would again listened and argued. She was a woman, an intriguing one but there were many more that were too. He had no use of her and had to go to where his profession needed him. He didn’t look back to the dock, didn’t wait to hear her, didn’t regret and was with his mind on the task he had set himself when he had boarded the ship.

She watched him depart and tasted the bitter aftermath of his subsequent departure upon her tongue. Yurei’s teeth clenched as his cloak billowed behind him that seemed to resemble a startling abjuration of her and himself. He was like beautiful tea leaf that could be consumed, but once he lost his flavor, he could be discarded to sample something new. That was what the Pani believed at least; putting to use everything and anything and making it beautiful before its usefulness was spent. Despite the perpetual conflict of combining two cultures that she had grown up in, she still felt like a newborn child to each and every revelation that either side reflected. The almond-eyed Pani dictated that they were superior while the pale mainland Goreans dictated that their way was the way of the world. Her time spent in slavery had taught her one thing; everything was relative. While thrived in bondage to Eve, she had traveled as far south to the sand dunes of the Tahari all the way to the open landscape of the Wagon People. She had encountered many people and their ways; this was how she had accepted that all things are relative in Gor. Each culture that she had encountered possessed its own culture and set of beliefs. Nothing was centralized, nothing was certain with the exception of the position of women and the institution of slavery that men had enforced upon the world.

She began to pace about the room as the chill birthed by Crow’s exit began to subside. She hadn’t paced about any sort of area in years with the exception of Salernum when she assumed her owner was going to sell her. Those were happy and intense days which she held close to her heart… but Salernum had been deposed by the Priest-King gods and so were any and all contact who knew her, with the exception of the members of the black caste and particularly, Crow.
A headache began to form and she darted into a hall of the infirmary, uncertain where it would lead, but she didn’t care. The physician’s establishment seemed to perpetually breathe humidity and she understood why as the man had a plethora of candles wherever she turned. The candlelight seemed to guide her though as she incidentally entered the physician’s and Alesia’s bedchamber. It was a small room, but it was cozy and noticed a vanity which only high or bred slaves receives after tremendous effort of pleasing their owners. Beside it was a small altar to the Priest-Kings which amused her considering how far they were within the north and she simply shook her head at this, finding humor in the contradictory actions of most people she encountered. The altar was ornate and intimate and Yurei had gauged that this man was a devout follower who worshipped in secret so as not to lose his position. Yurei, of most people understood this as she had been coerced to hide her own beliefs the majority of her life.

She collapsed before the altar on her knees which was something she had not done since her childhood. Her gaze briefly glimpsed over towards the mirror to regard her reflection and her shoulders slumped forward as she studied her features; scars, scars, and more scars. Yet, her eyes and countenance revealed age which perplexed her. She didn’t seem to resemble the toothless hags of Arian towers who declared men once fought for them when in reality aging shots had failed them, but rather… wisdom which had arrived with years of experience. Her eyes appeared tired, but the irises exhibited a keenness which most women seemed to lack, with the exception of elders. She stared intently upon her features; the serums had paralyzed most of her aging with the exception of the lines under her eyes which were present due to experience. The others, such as the crow’s feet were due to the moments of happiness within and without the collar during her life. There were only so many things that the serums could suppress.
She pressed her lips against her palms while her body tensed as she attempted to pray but she felt nothing… nothing but the fleeting strength allowing her to perform her gesture. Her lashes fluttered gently over her eyes as she attempted to concentrate and muster a prayer but she remained restless. The humidity of the physician’s infirmary began to become stifling to where she could barely breathe and she quickly exited his personal quarters. She rushed outside to allow herself the consolation of the cool, cold winter that allowed her some respite. As she regained her senses she realized a single thing; change was inevitable. But change was based upon personal experience was it not? She rushed back inside to the location of where she and Crow seemed to depart upon mutual agreement. But, she wasn’t satisfied and she was certain she could discover the root of her restlessness… despite how foolish it might be.
“If he wants to brood, then he will learn to laugh. That damn man takes himself too seriously. Assassins…”
She hissed under her breath as she reached for the bag of money that he had left her as she pried it open and peered inside and gasped. There was enough gold to secure her for the rest of her life and many times over. Yurei furrowed her brows as she had to come to a decision. Her gaze shifted over towards the door as she began to rummage about the room for clothing. She would have to layer herself if she was going out in the cold. Her feet slipped effortlessly into Alesia’s boots which she had left by the door and grabbed her cloak. Her clothes were a haphazard mixture of winter slave livery and the infirmary gown that Alesia had gently attired her in. She smoothed a single hand through her tangled locks as the slave girl did her best to remove the matted dreadlocks. She picked up Crow’s bag and hastily departed the infirmary as she slammed the door behind her. Hopefully, she could catch up to Crow before he left. Her thin, shapely legs broke into a sprint as she ran through the village, mimicking the speed of a tabuk.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the heaviest thing she seemed to be carrying was the money pouch. Her time spent in recovery had revived her and as she continued her run, the snow seemed to part as she reached a thicket of trees. She witnessed the billowing cloak of the assassin from several horts away. Her grip tightened on the bag as she bellowed out to him as she continued to close the distance, “You forgot something, Killer!” She raised the bag to eye level to show him what she possessed as her intention was to toss it back to him. “You and I have unfinished business, Crow.”

Crow paused with the door handle still in his hand, perhaps because he was curious to what she wished to say. However the pause wasn’t very long when he eventually walks on. He couldn’t or wouldn’t hear anymore of her at this moment. Too much that had happened in that room made him leave. No turn of his head, no moment to wait if she would follow. He walked on to the docks, simply because he himself knew that even if he had stopped, turned there was nothing he could have done differently. Her proposal was absurd and something he wouldn’t ever accept, no woman would play that part in his life. In his own mind he had already been too kind.

Crow knew that most women that even dared to touch him, would have at least the back of his hand on their cheeks for several days. His personal space was almost sacred and she had invaded it. Not even his slaves dared without his approval come that near. That space was there for a very good reason, a reason that held much from his past. His father had taught him young that when one was in that space your life could be hanging on a thin thread. Perhaps he had been too surprised, aware of her weakness by her recovery, or had given in for his own selfish need to taste her lips. The last something most read as his “way with women”.

Crow knew that in his training he had been regarded as the fellow that had that natural charm. They teased him with his shaggability and he had carried it with him through his entire training. When he had become that Assassin he still used the charm to get where he wanted. He had even killed a woman after giving her pleasure. Slaves adored him, for his patience in training. Yet he had never given them what they were after. Even the Peacock couldn’t get it and he knew that it had become what she most desired. His heart had been broken and never healed. She had spoken of care for him and it troubled him, since a part of him wished to be gentle with her. Perhaps tell her that he cared too. But it would be a lie.

Crow couldn’t care for her, let alone for any woman. That same care would be turned if Gold was paid. Not his care would stop from doing what he had been trained to do. Crow was for most certain no lair. He was a talented artist if it came to portraying that he did. He even made his slave Sparrow believe he loved her, while in fact he hadn’t. The only woman he perhaps cared for was safe in the bounds of another, who he respected. It was the only woman that knew him – perhaps – better than he knew himself.

Crow glanced behind him to see that the new acquired slave heeled him. In his eyes no longer the warmth but the sharpness to see if she complied well enough. The slave, one he knew well, had submitted to him after her former owner had abandoned her. The killer had perhaps been lost in action, still on his task and unaware of the girl. He could have killed her when she crossed her wrists, but hadn’t. He however not really in need of a slave at that point had only seen the waste if he had done so.

Crow had to wait on the captain when he moved upon the dock to depart again. The man had been paid well and had seen him come. “You wish to depart, Killer ?” he had asked. Crow had given him the position of where he wished to go and ordered his girl to find a spot below deck to warm herself. “As you wish, Killer.” The man haste to say and urged his crew to prepare to leave. Dyval wasn’t a place for killers, Crow thought. There was no reason to remain – the things that had to happen had done so. The Innkeeper was paid, the physician would find more than enough in the pouch he had left behind. What was left after that was enough for anyone to start anew.

Crow wasn’t a liar, wasn’t greedy, wasn’t capable of caring or love. Crow was just and alone that killer, that Assassin that could turn like a leaf: One moment charming and sophisticated while in the next sharp and alert on the ready to slit the throat of the one he had made feel safe in his presence. Perhaps there was the orthodox, since wasn’t it just as much a lie to portray yourself something you weren’t ? Crow remembered the words of one of the older killers. “When gold is exchanged only our caste codes are in place. No city law matters, the kill must be made.”

[11:50] Melchior Wardell arched a brow when the man he had sent to bring his slave stopped him before he could continue his way to the infirmery. The man, some might consider him a mute, didn’t speak but simply held out his hand to collect the coin he had been promised. Perhaps some would consider it odd that he – a killer – had paid such coin for a mere beast. But for some reason Crow rather wished to be served by his own slave. Careful or suspicious because of the looks the Innkeeper had given him. “Tal mine.” he stated while he waited for her to greet him in the way he had taught her.

[11:53] Vivianna didn’t care that it was snowy, she knew her lips belonged on the leather of his boot. He’d hear the crunch of snow as she dropped to her knees and pressed her lips. “Tal my Master.” She says, rubbing her cheek along the cold leather of his boot. “I’ve seen to all the little details back home.” She told him this so he’d know his tent was in fine order, and waiting on his return. She’d stay on her knees in the cold, until he told her she could rise, even though she felt the snow creeping through. “And yer looking so handsome today, my Master!” She couldn’t resist adding just before she pressed another kiss to his leg.

[11:56] Melchior Wardell looked down while she showed him how she belonged to him and then simply snapped his fingers with the signal for her to rise. She – although a slave – was of value and he didn’t want to bother himself with more trips to an infirmary. “Heel.” he simply stated to her giving her a glance as to silence her. He turned to the man had paid the coin that was promised. “You came quickly – seems I should speak with that captain you have as a comrade.” he said towards the man. The man shrugged and headed off perhaps to afraid to be seen with a killer in these parts.

[11:57] Vivianna laid one last kiss on her owners boot before she hopped up at his snap. She fell in silently behind him, ready to follow his every step. Her normal way was to babble along and entertain him with her stories… But his look silenced her, and so she stood, ready to heel.

[12:01] Melchior Wardell pushed the – familair – door open and instantly his keen eyes scan the room to see what was happening inside. As ever he was cautious to enter any building and up in these parts he was always more weary. There wasn’t much respect to his caste, although he doubted there was truly that in any part of Gor. He was one of the most hated castes and although he perhaps carried it proudly he wasn’t one that would flaunt it.

[12:04] Vivianna stepped in quietly behind her owner. Already the warmth of being indoors and out of the snow was making her feel better. She stayed silent, never one to greet unless her Master said she might. She leaned over though, and peered over Crow’s shoulder to study the woman….

[12:09] Yurei was beginning to rouse from the fitful slumber that the sedative afforded her. She had discovered for what might be the first time in ages an opportunity for respite. As Crow and his slave entered, she rested on her side and his arrival stirred her awake. Her vision was blurry at first as she attempted to discern who had entered, but the musky scent of old blood and sweet lingered in her nostrils and she shifted onto the edge of the cot while her hands rubbed at her eyes as she attempted to battle her drowsiness. “Crow is that you?”

[12:13] Melchior Wardell spied no physician inside but noted The Peacock before she even spoke. He pointed to his slave as to signal her that she was needed “Mine see to some tea of some sorts.” he demanded as if there was a good reason for it – while in fact it was merely to pose himself once again as the harsh killer he wished to be. “Seems the physican isn’t here.” he gave as a reason. He turns to The Peacock “Yes it is me.” he replied while he stepped closer “I see you are awake.” he turns to see if his slave would do his bidding “You know why I was summoned ?” he asks her while he took time to study her and to see that her recovery had been far more than he had

[12:14] Vivianna gave only a quickly spoken “Yes, my Master.” as she hurried off and began the process of putting the tea together. They’d hear little clangs and water as she organised the boiling put, set out the leaves… She was sneaking glances at the woman in the bed as she worked….

[12:24] Yurei continued rubbing her eyes as she listened to the clanging of pots and various other items inundate her ears as Vivianna proceeded to make tea for either her or the both of them. Her gorgginess abated to a manageable where she was able to comprehend better and the first thing she did was peer around the looming figure of the assassin to regard the brunette. She felt something in her chest but couldn’t explain the feeling; however it was sharp and unpleasant and she attempted her best to conceal it, “The physicians wants to know what you want to do with me.” She stated tonelessly as her eyes returned to his; but unlike their prior meetings, there was the absence of bitterness and rage. There was something more heartfelt, warm as her eyes revealed the new series of sensations and feelings that she usually suppressed or quelled. “Whatever you decide… I’ll try… to comply.”

[12:28] Melchior Wardell arched his brow in surprise, no mask, simply surprised by the words she spoke and the expression she held on her features. He reached out to her cheek with his hand to brush it – perhaps to attempt to turn it slightly to see if the wounds he had seen there previously were healed or a tender caress to show that he was pleased with the recovery. “I see.” he stated as if it held already an answer. “And you will try to comply ?” he asks. He had followed her gaze but as a man could only guess to her reasons for looking at his slave in the way she had done. It held no meaning to him for now. He was tempted to ask further about the physician but held still as he wished to hear the answer to the question he had posed.

[12:31] Vivianna strained two cups of tea… She was asked to make tea, so she assumed it was for both of them. As it was cold outside, she was making the tea a little strong, and she asked “Will my Master or the Mistress take milk or suger in the tea?” It made more sens to get it all done at the little kitchen, versus some flowery city arrangement where one carts trays all over the place…

[12:42] Yurei leaned her head gently against his callused palm like she did prior in the longhall during the summer. She turned her face towards his palm and planted a light kiss. It was not one that a kajira or bondmaid would utilize to seduce a man. It was not even something that a high caste woman would use to manipulate a man into getting what she wanted. The illness had seemed to changed her as well as the parade of dreams which offered her different perspectives about her past. Her lashes fluttered over her cheekbones as her tears threatened to descend and indeed they did… she was being honest with the proverbial black bird for the first time, “Yes, I will.” She stated feebly with a voice that was filled with genuine emotion bordering a sob and suddenly her eyes opened to allow her amber hues to encounter his own green eyes, “I think I finally understand what the diviner was talking about all those years ago.” She reached up to grasp his hand and gave it a reflexive, affectionate squeeze, “I think this is mean

[12:42] Yurei: t to be, whatever this is.” She glimpsed over towards Vivianna and smiled as she wiped at her face with the back of her opposite hand, “Milk and sugar, girl.”

[12:47] Melchior Wardell had simply shook his head at the milk or sugar and held his attention to The Peacock. He canted his head a little as if to give himself a different perspective upon the face of her. For a reason he was bothered with the fact there were no sharp words, no snipe remarks but a gentle kiss and the affectionate gestures and squeeze. “What do you understand, Peacock ?” he asks her while his eyes grew sharper to look into hers. Perhaps in this idle attempt to see atleast some of the bitterness that always had fitted her. With the words she spoke he had instantly a thousand other questions, since what was said made so little sense to him. Yet he hadn’t forgotten the feeling when he had first followed that unknown voice that had beackoned him to eventually find her – nearly dead. Crow was known for his organized thinking. A man that could pull open drawers to find what he had stored there at will and close them if they weren’t needed. Now he simply heard voices that weren’t his own. Voices of his mentors ? (c)

[12:48] Melchior Wardell couldn’t help that in his eyes a glimpse of his confussion would be. What would he do now ? What answers ? What challange ?

[12:50] Vivianna nodded and said “Yes, Mistress.” and added the milk and suger to the tea. She caught Crow’s head shake, so left his tea as it was. She picked his up first and carried it over to him. She said quietly by his side, so as to not disturb “Your tea, my Master.” She’d take the Mistress her tea in a moment, but for just now, her eyes were locked on her owner. She could not help the little smile that tugged at her lips when she looked at him, as he -always- made her heart race.

[13:03] Yurei hadn’t released his hand but could most definitely feel the confusion that seemed to water down the blood pumping through his veins. Whatever treacherous expression or countenance that seemed to sustain her had dwindled down to this moment, “You yuan wu fen… fate without destiny. That has been the entirety of my life so it seems. I have come to comprehend that I cannot control what is out of my hands and that was why I was eating bitterness for so many years. I’m not perfect and there will be moments where the bitterness will resume.” She shifted her gaze briefly to Vivianna and contemplated her, curious about her thoughts on such profound matters before focusing back on Crow, “Neither can you… you are destined to be what you are, but are not fated to be of stone… like me.” She seemed to continue with the mystical saying and in a manner they made sense. “In my dreams… I saw what you were. I don’t know how, but the gods have shown me why we are what we are. The diviner from my childhood revealed a

[13:03] Yurei: man who assumed the symbol of the crow, who’s path was similar to mine.” She gazed pointedly at Crow at again though her expression was unreadable, “You and I are the same Crow. This is why I cannot be bitter around you or towards you anymore.”

[13:10] Melchior Wardell took the cup from his girl and gave her a signal to continue her serve with the lady. He listens to the Peacock and although her words might have seem odd to others, they weren’t to him. Hadn’t he himself had similar thoughts as to how much they were alike. “We spoke once about men and women. We spoke in ways they were different. You spoke of women of bone and men of clay – and yet here you are telling me we are alike ?” he now watched her intently and held that pause in silence – as if he wished to hear what the voices in his own head were telling, but none seemed to speak in words he could understand. “If there is such thing as destiny what would it say now – Peacock. You and I know that in the world we live – beauty is with a price.” he started to pace “You know that if the Physician would ask me what to do with you – I wouldn’t quite know what to answer him. What are you truly – A freewoman that must hide this revelation ? – A slave I would sell to a slaver that could really exploit the beauty (c)

[13:15] Vivianna inched back over to the counter and picked up the second cup of tea. She carried it over to the woman and knelt down properly to hand her her tea. She wasn’t one for kneeling as she was of northern stock, but she was always careful to please her owner, and she would cause no offense by not kneeling as the woman might expect. Holding the cup up to her she says simply “Tea, Mistress. Milk and sugar.” She tried to think of what else she could say, as the ladies seemed to like it flowery… Vivi was a man’s slut through and through, so she struggled a bit when it came to ‘pretty’. “And yer hair looks lovely. And… tea makes you warm.” Vivi nodded as if that might just cover it…..

[13:25] Yurei was about to reply to Crow when Vivianna interrupted her train of though. Normally, she would be irritated but she welcome the break in thought and speech as she collected the cup from her, “Thank you, girl.” Her voice was sweet, melodic, though still a bit hoarse due to her recovery. She lifted the rim to her mouth and took a few sips before extending it from her to contemplate the cup as was the Pani way, “Your girl is lovely. My compliments.” The beverage warmed her hands and she exhaled, allowing her shoulders to deflate as she became more comfortable before resuming her exchange with Crow, “I was wrong, Crow. And it’s rare when I admit that.” She had finally released his hand to cup the tea as she allowed the liquid to warm her insides after sipping it again, “Nothing is absolute, absolutely nothing. Our genders vascillate between clay and bone status.” She glimpsed up at him thoughtfully, “And I believe you and I are made of both bone and clay… there are some pieces of us that can never mend but

[13:25] Yurei: our perseverence… our strength and tenacity to survive resides within our bones.” She glimpsed down at the cup again as her partially combed out hair which the slave Alesia had tended to was beginning to look somewhat more manageable. “I have a solution and this only occurs in Pani culture. But, with out mutual rejection of one another, I don’t think that a breech in tradition would matter much.” Her eyes moistened as she encountered his eyes again, “Make me a contract woman… your contract woman. It’s the path of both slave and free woman combined.”

[13:32] Melchior Wardell looked at Vivianna when the compliment was made. Perhaps he as any Gorean man should feel pride in owning her and he did – the collar wasn’t a thing he gave easy surely not his. “She is entertaining.” he simply said in reply, which was perhaps the understatement of the year. He grins when the admitance came of her wrong “I wonder about the bone and clay – Peacock. I see us as birds each have their own unique way of going through life. Perhaps you and I have learned to fly with the breeze of winter, were others would strike down to rest upon branches.” he spoke with a voice that was dark – aged – but no longer harsh or demanding. Perhaps like a poet that phylosofic spoke about his vision on life. “I have never underestimated your strength or abbility to survive. I have seen you broken, shattered, bitter and nearly on the edge of death.” he looked down on Vivianna and even managed to smile. “A life as a woman that is in any way connected to mine – isn’t easy. I would even say hard.” he said earnest. (c)

[13:36] Melchior Wardell took a moment pause to gather his own thought “I was once indeed broken. I vowed myself then a promise that untill today I never broke. A promise that is far more valuable than any gold or even my life.” he then turned to face her once again. In his eyes there was perhaps that sadness of the bittersweet memory of the very moment he had vowed never to love again. Not for the codes or regulations of his caste, but simply because he couldn’t be so selfish again. “How tempted your sollution might seem – I have to decline it for reasons I cannot speak.” he said – truthfully when it came to his own thoughts. “However Peacock – I will not let you fly in the winterstorm. You will find yourself protected by old and dark feathers – as long as life permits.”

[13:36] Vivianna tilted her face up to the woman’s with the praise, and turned to look at her owner. She’d want to see if he was pleased as she moved back to his side. She’d stand silently behind him, waiting to serve if need be.

[13:48] Yurei continued sipping her tea in silence while she listened to him and her hands began to tremble at the final statement. His rejection was something that was she wasn’t expecting but she did not blame him… she understood the difficulties of his caste and what hardships it entailed. “You saved my life though. I have crossed the threshold of dreams and now I am beginning… to feel things again.” She set the cup aside on the adjacent desk as she approached him, though she did savor Vivianna’s offering, she felt her heart was like a ticking time bomb in her chest, “I don’t blame you anymore. Crow… I think… I care for you.” She deliberately met his eyes which seemed to fill with emotion. There was palpable difficulty in her speech, stammering as she revealed the context of her feelings, “But you know me… I will survive any love which weighs me down. I will even destroy it if I must to live. Not unlike you.” She leaned on tip-toes and draped her arms about his shoulders as she kissed him… tenderly, pas

[13:48] Yurei: sionately, and with profound reverence for the being who’s path intertwined with hers. She did this for a while, uncaring of his reaction. She had wanted to do this without the bitterness and it seemed to vivify her. She broke it after several ehn and pivoted to the side, “Thank you… know that I will protect you however I can as well.”

[13:57] Melchior Wardell was perhaps for a rare moment – not the dark man with the many masks that would imprison his feelings and answered her kisses with a similar tenderness. Perhaps in a way he once had kissed his companion or another before he had been broken to be build as the man he was now. He again had taken every word to mind and than his hands took her hands from his shoulders to push her gently from him. Perhaps the tenderness wasn’t as much of a lover, but a protector – a brother in arms – a comrade. He watched her intently and when he was certain his voice would not hold his old sadness he said “To care for anyone is precious and somethng one should treasure. We never know when we might not be able to care again. It isn’t something to be killed, but celibrated. There is always a space in our being that allows us to be a child that sings, a lover that shares the pleasures.” He nodded “If your destiny is alike to mine – I know you will be the indestructable one, who suffered everything and nothing.” (c)

[14:00] Melchior Wardell gave a small gesture to the room “I might have saved you. But not as much by keeping you alive because of your injuries, but by the acceptance that life has things in it that might harm us – not with the intent of it. ” he tipped her nose, playful – a sort of compliment as he never did it with those he didn’t like “However promise me that you will never safe me – for the moment I would be in your debt – I would no longer be what I am or wish to be.” the last was spoken again in earnest. He was afterall a Gorean man – An Assassin who would fail his caste if it indeed ever came to such.

[14:02] Vivianna was well trained, and she’d been serving the killers for years. She was trained to be lethal, loving, loyal… She could poison with a smile, and report things in the minutest detail to her owner. And even with all of that, she could not keep the look of shock from her face as the woman touched her Master. Her eyes widened and she even took a step back, just in case. When her Master spoke softly to the woman, the shock she wore turned to even wider eyed and opened mouthed amazement. She tried to school her features back in to the calm little observer she always was…. She even offered a smile to the woman.

[14:09] Yurei released him as her arms dropped to her sides and she became crestfallen. She realized now he didn’t see her the way that she saw him, even though all the signs seemed to declare otherwise. The lump assembled in her throat as it descended into her stomach, descending into a spiderweb of knots which elicited tears. But, they were tears of relief as it seemed, though they hinted at sadness and joy. She was happy to have made her peace with Crow, but was unsettled. However, the flick of her nose produced a feeble smile as she gazed into his eyes again, “You know I can’t promise you that, my black bird.” She stated affectionately, if not lovingly, “But, I release you from any and all debt from me. I simply want you to find your contentment in this world and perhaps…” She dauntlessly raised her callused hand to allow it level over the area where his heart was and press against it. She could the steady beat of his heart, even through his clothes which made many fear him. She had ceased fearing his caste long

[14:09] Yurei: ago but maintained a respect as she viewed herself not unlike them. “I know your codes, your caste… but promise me you will try to be happy… for this peacock who has now become a butterfly.”

[14:17] Melchior Wardell composed again to the man with the many masks and caught her hand from his heart. “Seems we both can’t truly promise.”he replied. Perhaps a sad statement when one would think of it. He knew that at the present he held no debt with anyone. It stronged him often to know that he had even compensated those that had given him much. He had rescued his mentor Sol, tended to his fathers last words – when he thought to leave life. He was a man that had faced many obsticles in life and had suffered them and yet none had harmed him in his core, which he even now protected with all his might. He could explain that it weren’t for his codes of his caste, but the solemn vow he had made, yet he didn’t. Why would he burden another with what he carried for this long. “Very well.” he said to the last of her words. He took a small pouch from his belt and gave it to his girl “Put it on the desk.” he turned back “That will cover all costs and with what remains I hope this butterfly will find that new start.” (c)

[14:19] Melchior Wardell continued “But please take to heart that this isn’t simple coin a good man made. I am very much – the black bird – that murders.” he stated. “A butterfly can be when with others even move air – while when there are more of me – they will speak again of murder. Do not forget that behind each goes that secret world even in that of the most colourful butterfly.” he then turned perhaps to rip himself from the woman that had haunted his toughts for this long. “Heel mine.” he merely gave his girl in order so she would.

[14:21] Vivianna curled her fingers around the pouch and muttered softly “Yes, my Master.” before she turned to carry it to the desk. She laid it carefuly in the center and headed back to his side. The pouch felt heavy to her hand, and she took another curious glance at the woman, wanting to know about the lady who would be worth such a pouch of coins. She spoke to his command quickly “Yes, my Master.” and prepared to follow him back out in to the cold. She looked over her shoulder, one last look at the woman before she turned to follow Crow out. She’d never even greeted the lady…

——

One would have to wonder why Crow didn’t take Yurei… Suyuan for his own… but he had his reasoning and again they seemed to go their seperate ways for the time being.

There continued to be rumors of a scarred, Tuchuk looking woman roaming the Northern Forests who seemed to train the very black birds that continued to visit her quite frequently. Despite her initial dissapointment, she had changed… life had returned to her being and the bitterness which seemed to be forte had subsided a bit.

One day she disappeared… only to re-emerge attired in traditional Pani robes and labeling herself an entertainer. She called herself Tokoyo… named after the girl who won back her swordsmen father’s honor.

—– Tokoyo’s Story ——

She was the daughter of a swordsmen named Oribe Shima. Shima had displeased the emperor, who was in an ill state of health, and subsequently banished him from the kingdom. As a result, he had to set up home on a group of islands called the Oki Islands, away from his daughter. Both he and Tokoyo were miserable at being separated, and she became determined to find him. She sold all her property, and set out for a place called Akasaki, which was just off the coast from the Oki Islands. Although she asked the fishermen to ferry her there, they all refused, since it was forbidden to visit anyone banished there.

One night, she took a boat and sailed to the islands herself. She spent the night on the beach. The next morning while searching for her father she encountered a fisherman, whom she asked about her father. The fisherman replied he knew nothing, and warned her not to ask anyone else about his whereabouts. As a result, she was forced to eavesdrop on people’s conversations, rather than simply asking them directly. Unfortunately, Tokoyo could not gather any useful information this way.

On one evening, she came upon a shrine of Amaterasu, and after praying to her, collapsed and fell asleep. She was awoken by the sound of a girl crying, and looked up to see a young girl and a priest. The priest led the girl to the edge of a cliff and would have pushed her off the edge, if it wasn’t for the intervening of Tokoyo. The priest said he was going to sacrifice the girl in order to appease the god Okuninushi, who demanded the annual sacrifice of a young girl. Tokoyo offered to take the girl’s place, begrieved and hopeless from not finding her father. After praying to Amaterasu again, she dived down into the ocean; dagger in her teeth.

At the bottom of the ocean, Tokoyo found a mighty cave, which housed a statue. The statue was of the emperor who banished her father, and she immediately decided to destroy it. However, thinking better of it, she tied it to herself and began to swim back with it. Before she could leave the cave, a serpentine creature (not Okuninushi, but some unnamed monstrosity) confronted her. Devoid of fear, Tokoyo first stabbed it in the eye, blinding it, then relentlessly attacked until she succeeded in killing it. When she arrived at the shore, the priest and girl carried her to town. Word of her heroic deed spread. The emperor’s unknown ailment had also suddenly been lifted. He realized that Tokoyo must have released him from a curse, because of what she did to the statue. He ordered the release of Oribe Shime. The father and daughter happily returned to their home town.

—————–

Few if any believed her, but found the story fascinating. Suyuan, now having labeled herself after the legendary figure became more content with each opportunity she told the story. She would have to remember to tell it to Crow next time she saw him.

He had restored her honor and in return she had given a most precious gift… the feelings of her heart. Gratitude was not enough for Amaterasu binding them together.

Perhaps in this lifetime, they couldn’t afford the luxuries they wanted but at least they knew they would always have one another… either in signs or dreams.

Tokoyo was triumphant and Suyuan finally seemed to have found the peace that eluded her for so long. But, as Crow stated, there would always be darkness. She was ready to battle it whenever it attacked her.

For now, she would attempt to find a place where she could find some measure of peace with the money Crow gave to her… Torvaldsland seemed ideal. Perhaps, she could settle down on that farm she dreamed about, companion, and have children. It was a life she wanted. It was a life she deserved. It was a life she should have had.

Now, she had her chance. The possibilities were endless. She now had the tools to quell the demolished dreams of both her childhood and adulthood and commence the long, arduous healing process. She would endure it as best she could without ever losing herself again.

“Mother, you would have liked him…” She said to the air, hoping that wherever Mizumi was, she could hear her.

She could sense the wind of change as she returned to the cliff where she had originally intended to end her life. This time she was glimpsing at the horizon with a profound hope that she hadn’t felt in years.

The world of men was cumbersome but with men like Crow, it made it bearable. She would try to be happy and live contentedly not just for him, but also herself.

She had herself but she felt connected to everything and everyone for the first time.

As Tor-tu-Gor ascended over Thassa, she smoothed her hair over her notched ears while studying the glittering waves.

She pivoted and abandoned the cliff, never intending to return to it as she would see what this chaotic world had to offer her. She would stumble and fall several times, but the renewed strength which blazed inside of her was beyond any slave fire she had ever experienced or felt. She would continue to survive however she could, but also remember to live. She liked the idea of settling down in the North. But, despite her desires, she knew never to expect… only hope. Tears blinded her vision as she created more distance between her and her old life and a single thought occurred to her as she took the path to join her hired guard who stood watching. They would be leaving Dyval indefinitely and go wherever fate lead them. Perhaps one day she would discover her destiny, but for now she had fate and she was grateful for that. As she shed the skin of her former life, a single thought occurred to her:

“Knowing love, I will allow all things to come and go. To be as supple as the wind, and take everything that comes with great courage. Life is right in any case. My heart is as open as the sky.” – Maya, Kama Sutra: A Tale of Love

—————————————-

But these were all fantasies and fever dreams.

She was still in Dyval, attired in her rep-cloth gown as she watched Crow begin to depart. She felt something within her ache and the poignant words of Alesia resonated within her head. What about personal desire? Instinct told her to be silent and she regarded the coin bag he had left for her. Whatever pride she possessed became obsolete in the moment he turned his back upon her and she bellowed out to him, “Crow… wait a moment.”

Crow watched how the slave girl gathered the silks that he had torn from her body only a few moments ago. He had used her, rough and without any love or affection. He simply had taken her as the beast she was to satisfy his own needs of release. It had been several hands ago when he had used a slave and perhaps it would be more hands when he would again. There was no love making, no tenderness and the girl that scurried in his room was very much aware of his strength. She carried the scars, perhaps even bruises for several days to remind her of him. The slave finally knelt before him and pressed her forehead to his knee. “Master, is there anything I can bring you ?” she asks softly – in fear that she again would meet him in the harsh manner of before.

Crow reached out to her long black locks of hair and pulled her to his face “No.” he stated while his green eyes that had seen all the countless murders, searched for hers. “You served me well. You can give that to your owner.” He said while he reached out to his belt that was discarded next to him. He pulled the coin that he and the owner had agreed and handed it to her. “I will of course check if he will receive every one of them.” He warned before he took possession of her lips for a final time. “Now go.” He bid her, before he would turn to his tunic. The girl rises and turned to leave but stopped halfway across the room to kneel again. She pressed her head to the floor, lowering her body as far as she was able. Crow noticed and understood that the position she had taken was to express how low she was and that there was still something she wished to share – something nearly forgotten. “Master, forgive this low slave.” She whispered. “I was asked to pass a message.” She added.

Crow watched her, didn’t yet speak while he cleaned himself up and started to dress himself further. He knew that the girl hadn’t been given any time to speak when she had entered the room. It was one of his ways. Not give girls the room to come close before that act of pleasure. Have them as strangers, helpless and with no names. “Speak.” He only replied to her eventually. The slave knelt back but kept her eyes on his sandals. Perhaps she could see how well armed Crow truly was when he started to strap his daggers upon his body. “I was told that the one you were waiting for has sent word.” She said with a hint of her own curiosity, since the message held so little information. Crow nodded and knew instantly that there was only one he had been waiting for “Good.” He stated and waved his hand “If that was all you were to tell, you can leave.”

The slave girl took that intake of breath – as if she had escaped death and hurried out the room he had paid for. When the door closed Crow finally felt himself alone with the thoughts he only kept for himself. “The Peacock has recovered.” He stated to himself as if the woman was only a metaphor for what was. A woman that had endured much and always seemed to find herself carrying scars but alive. The thought that she was in a way so similar to him. He had survived several Kurri attacks, wars, chases after a kill or even a fall from his tarn. He never came out of it unharmed, for each there was a scar that would remind him of what he had escaped. The tokens of his victory on death itself.

Crow looked around the room, the smell of sex still in the air, to be sure that he had indeed armed himself completely and hadn’t forgotten any of his belongings. He was getting older and to reach for a knife that he might have forgotten wasn’t the best way in his profession. He was careful and with it always aware that danger could come from small things that others often underestimated. The Peacock was one woman he never would underestimate. He had seen her in so many ways and never could he see her as just that beast as he had with the girl that had rushed from his room a moment ago.

Crow stepped towards the window that gave him an excellent view on the small town square. He could see the merchants that carried their merchandize to their stalls. He even could hear the conversations or debates between them. Their lives were so different to his own, he thought. They could make commitments with others, take a companion or even fall in love. The last something Crow feared more than death itself. He knew that falling in love would make any men weak. The man could fight it, could try to show different, but no man would truly be without that blur that such emotions gave.

Crow leaned against the wall that still gave him that view and wondered about the story of Azrael.

 Azrael

Azrael would have been one of the first Assassins, legends said. A man so skilled in steel was asked to murder for gold. Azrael had been a famous warrior, whose heart turned cold when his beloved companion had died in a war. His kills were done swift with not even a hint of his presence. Guards spoke of the ghost that seemed to murder. None had ever seen him, nor could they even shace his shadow when the murder was found out. He came and went with no witnesses there. Azrael was considered one of the best in his caste.

When Azrael was tasked to murder the same man that had ordered the needless war there had been no signs of his failure. He had done all an Assassin would do. He had been as a shadow to the man, had observed, studied all his doings. Azrael had known his e. very day step, his routine, the number of men that protected him

The Assassin Azrael had finally known that the best chance was to kill the man in his own home by night. When he had finally made his last arrangements to give him a quick exit from the murder he was to commit he had readied himself to enter the house unseen.

Azrael had dressed himself in the black of the night to hide in the shadows and pass the unsuspecting guards and painted the dagger upon his forehead – a sign that he was there to do what he had been paid for. It had been no problem to enter the house, the man that was to be killed perhaps felt falsely safe by the amount of guards that were around his home.

Azrael had been on the verge of killing when a slave entered the room of the man that was sound asleep. Azrael would kill her just as swiftly if it weren’t for the candle light that showed her face to him. The same face as that of his beloved companion. A deep and profound love that had been years ago his soul of living. The blade in place to pierce the mans heart started to tremble when the slave girl had whispered to him and pleaded for the life of the man that in his mind had been the cause of the death of his own companion. He could have killed the man in the blink of an eye, could have slit the throat of the girl in the process and yet he could not. Instead of taking the life of the man he turned his blade to his own heart and fell in it to kill himself.

An Assassin that had been only a ghost for most, an example for many other killers, had failed his caste by not doing what he was paid for, simply out of love for the memory of his own beloved companion that would await him in the City of Dust.

—

The story of Azrael always gave Crow the shivers, since he could perhaps empathise with the man that Azrael would have been. Perhaps because he also had lost a woman that he had loved so deeply or could see the reason for the failure of Azrael as one that he could make too. It was this story that made him carry the mask of the cold – harsh killer. It was the knowledge that even a slave girl could make the most fierce man bend or break.

Crow walked back to the bowl with water and splashed some of it to his face, in wish to erase these thoughts from it, before he would go to the physician to see what state he would find the Peacock in.

Yurei should have died and in a sense she did. She died again and again, like the Phoenix of Earth legend who lives for a thousand years, only to build it’s own funeral pyre and cast itself into the flames. As it dies, it is reborn and it ascends from the ashes to live another thousand years. There were various Pani legends reflecting the Earth story, but what she found most fascinating were the stories and facts that her mother shared with her about crows and ravens. The creatures would sit on hot surfaces as they allowed the heat to overwhelm them. Sometimes when they flapped their wings, they encouraged the flames of whatever fire they perching near to blaze and it would frighten the bird, causing it to take flight. She had watched one instance of this as a child and found it fascinating. She always had an affinity for birds and what they represented to her. Sometimes, she even wished to fly away like the black birds who appeared whenever she seemed to need them the most.

The physician’s slave tended to her and she learned that her name was Alesia. She was lovely, slender, but certainly never lacked any curvature which made her the beautiful slave she was. She possessed keen, intelligent, and thoughtful green eyes that exuded nothing but tenderness and warmth. Her conversations with her revealed that she too was a former breeder but had been rescued by the physician and subsequently she became his love slave. The tell-tale signs of affection between the physician and Alesia was palpable, if not admirable. But, he was rough with her and often scolded her for small mishaps. It was not uncommon for a man to be harsh with his love slave. She happened to listen to the sounds of Alesia being lashed for accidentally spilling broth on Yurei’s sheets and the physician happened to be present. His mild-mannered countenance altered to rage as he reached for the whip he hid under his desk and dragged Alesia by her hair from the room to so that he could punish her in privacy. After the ordeal, Alesia emerged from outside, sniffling and flushed and Yurei could discern the lash marks across her body. The physician returned and beckoned Alesia to a cot where he proceeded to apply salve to her wounds as he spoke tenderly to her.

Yurei could not help but feel simultaneously envious and disturbed at what she witnessed. It reminded her of herself and Shiefo as he was one of the few owners to lash her whenever she made a minute mistake. His image also surfaced in her delirious dreams while she battled her sickness.

She remembered the last time she encountered him and the exchange that she had made. It was the previous summer in Port Cos as a matter of fact and and the season was gradually declining into autumn.

He happened to see her as she had just finished playing her samisen for a group of warriors. Seeing him made her heart plummet into her belly and caused her to drop her instrument, chipping the wood and breaking a string. He had pulled her aside and demanded to know how she had attained freedom.

Her bitterness still enveloped her as she voiced her grievances with him and it was both poignant and emotional. He realized that she was drowning in her own antipathy for just about everything around her and offered to end her existence. She was shocked; the former Ubar of Telnus with whom she shared her happiest days with was willing to take her life from her in order to “ease her suffering”. How she had loved him when she belonged to him and how their feelings flourished like blossoms reaching for Tor-tu-Gor which replenishes all life. Yet, here he was, willing to end her life for her own good. The man she had loved had died in the fall of Salernum… or at least the ideal of him did. They both shared a relationship like Alesia and the physician. The only difference was was that Yurei’s self-identity remained in check so it seemed. She remembered glaring at Shiefo and declaring, “I don’t have enough love for you to allow you to kill me.” With that, she kissed him. What the former Ubar did not know was that the rouge that was painted upon was mixed with tassa powder and her kiss had rendered him unconscious, leaving her enough time to escape and return to her nomadic existence. But, she had to go the extra mile when a rarius discovered them. Her quick thinking had allowed her to inform the rarius that Shiefo had accosted her and was drunk.

Just as he came to, she accused him again and departed the city. That was the last time she ever went to Port Cos.

Her action might be seen as wicked, if not treacherous. She wasn’t surprised really; after all she was a panther and they were known to be thieves, whores, and liars for when the situation warranted it. She was reminded of this whenever she tucked her wayward strands behind her ears, both of which were notched due to an overzealous rarius with whom she attempted to befriend and even understand, but his stubbornness and strict dedication to his codes created friction. She did this act even now as she allowed her callused fingertip to trace over the crude indents in her ears. Not only were they notched, but they were simultaneously pierced. Shiefo made certain that her life would be harder as he inserted needles into them while he positioned her over a tavern table and proceeded to slave rape her afterwards. But, despite what he did, she still loved him albeit quite foolishly.

She propped herself upon the pillows while she contemplated all of this as Alesia attended to her. She had just bathed and Alesia was attempting to comb out her dreadlocks again. Each knot she yanked elicited a gasp from the peacock and each time she apologized profusely for hurting her. Alesia reminded her so much of her former self and despite their differences, found a sort of kinship with her like she did in the slave Ki so many years ago.

“My owner has dispatched a messenger to that man who brought you here Mistress.” Her voice was mellifluous and sweet and it reminded her of raw honey and sugar. “He says that since you are getting better, it is best for the killer to decide what to do next and how to proceed with you.” She became tentative as she stated the next words, “He says you may end up a slave.”

Yurei regarded her for a long time with a neutral countenance as she sympathized with her reluctance. She continued to comb her hair as gently as possible. “I hope you don’t, Mistress.” That was all she could afford to say in regard to her personal feelings. Alesia had seemed to grow fond of the recovering Pani woman and admired her qualities. “Forgive me if I step out of line, but from what I have seen in you, your heart and spirit are not meant for the collar. I don’t think any man can tame you.”

Yurei didn’t respond as she continued to glance forward. Her eyes flickered to the image of the human body which Crow had discerned a Hand or so prior. Her brows rested heavily over her slanted eyes as she seemed to become lost in thought… or feeling.

“Perhaps so. But, things are not always certain now are they?”

Her thoughts continued to meander as Alesia continued her care. Her statements left her confused, but also pensive as she studied the poster with what seemed to be immense concentration as she thought of Crow and their prior conversations.

Her fragile beat faster particularly when she contemplated over their history together; their conversations, their dispositions… how everything between them seemed to weave and connect quite naturally.

Crow confused her just as much as she confused him. But, it didn’t explain the rapid pounding of her heart whenever she seemed to recall even the most unfavorable moments with him.

She studied the imagine and focused upon the chest area where a diagram of the heart seemed to be the primary focus. Everything in the human body was fueled by the heart and the blood it pumped through it. Love, joy, rage, sorrow – all of the complex matters of human nature begins with the heart…

…And it was her heart that began to swell with emotion as she realized that for once, she could feel without having to resort to bitterness. It was a defense mechanism; it was what sustained her. She remembered the expression she shared with Crow… eating bitterness and allowing adversity to transform into virtue.

She was tired of swallowing bitterness. She was tired of herself; of the disguises, masks, and lies. For the first time in what seemed to be ages, she wanted to feel freely and openly without being being afraid of what the consequences would bring.

She wondered what Crow was doing and reclined on her bed as Alesia tucked her back into bed. She couldn’t wait to inform him of her epiphany.

Crow had taken up a room in the Inn and had now taken a seat in the room where food and drinks were served. The slaves that were dressed in precious silks, clearly there to honour the slaver that occupied a building close to it. The girls, beautiful or even exotic, there to lure customers to buy them, weren’t idle but serving the guests that were in the room. He silently observed their well manners, their subtle gestures of their talents that were still veiled as to urge men to search further and eventually find themselves in the unstoppable desire to own them. The slaver must be a talented one to have such in stock, Crow mused to himself while his attention was taken by a girl that demure and graciously knelt beside him. For a moment he had to halt himself as not to send her away, but to give her the order that what he wished to eat and drink.

The slave girl was clearly not in her element with him, he thought when he spied the trembling of her hands that rested upon her knees. Crow should perhaps be used to it and yet it took him by surprise every single time. But she could not know, who or what he was besides the Assassin. He wasn’t a cartoon figure with only a black cloak and the task to kill a life that was paid for. An Assassin was far more than his caste, Crow thought while he gave eventually gave the order to bring him a meal and his milk. In his corner of the room he felt alone, truly alone as if when one would take him from here, none would even think or notice him being gone. The loneliness had helped often in his tasks and yet it could suffocate him in another, when there was no contract to fulfil. Had he by taking up the cloak and helmet, taken the life of only that ? Was he only 2 dimensional ?

He spied a man across the room that was wearing his white with gold colours. The man probably rich and well known seemed to wave his hand to several others. Offered them a seat at his table and slapped the girls asses to make them hurry in bringing the wine he had ordered. A man that clearly enjoyed life and shared it so graciously with others. A man whose life pretty much could depend on how others would perceive him. If one would become envious or would learn to hate him, a couple of Gold Tarns could end that man’s life quickly. How that thought had troubled him when he was still that young Tarnsman in Glorious Ar, that shared his earnings with friends. That had never found himself lonely at a table as he was now. Many years had passed since then and even if he hadn’t taken up the Caste of Assassins, would he still be so full of joy as he was then ? Would he not be the worried father he nearly became to be when his life shifted in that horrid way ?

The girl returned and her eyes never looked up to him, but were on the tray and table where she carefully put all he had ordered. When the girl asked him for more of his wishes he only shook his head and sent her away with a flick of his hand. How these helpless creatures reminded him of his own slavery. The slavery of the Caste that held so many secrets, so many unspoken codes of conduct. A caste that was never about pride or glory, but about gold and the next contract one could gain. It was about skill, in mind and steel. None really made the choice to become an Assassin because one became one. One was recruited or searched for the caste for another purpose, which was never discussed. Some to escape the shame of being exiled by their original caste while others – as he – were escaping the torment of their lives.

Crow ate but all the while his thoughts wandered. He could have been a Peacock if it weren’t for the loss of his beloved companion and the deaths of his children. He could have been that proud Warrior of Ar and have that glory in what he did. Celebrate his honour and serve the purpose to which he was born. But here he was – The Crow – that simply did his dealings in the shadows. That for most was just that cold, heartless man that had given up on all beauty and pleasures of life. A man that was for those that didn’t know him well enough – shallow and one that took gold over life.

From the corner of his eyes he noticed the Innkeeper nervous to his presence. The glances in his direction, the girl that had instantly returned to him, mere signs that he wished to know why he was here. Crows hair prevented anyone to see that he wasn’t wearing the mark of the dagger upon his forehead, perhaps partly to blame. Perhaps most would be unbothered by the distress of others, but yet he wondered if he should finish his plate quickly and depart again. Crows talent in portraying himself as the Assassin that was ruthless, unbothered and harsh, helped him in situations like these. None would even come close to guess his true thoughts, except for one girl that could read Assassins as clear as day. How odd that this girl now seemed to be related to one of his mentors.

Crow took the vessel with milk and gulped it down as if to finish his meal here where thoughts of the past seemed to fly by as if they were hummingbirds in search for their beloved honey. The thought of Raven – the girl of Scar – had taken him back by – The Peacock. The women – the slave – the panthergirl and never had he seen her as to what she truly was. He knew that whatever she was, he hadn’t seen it. Crow might have been many things, but he wasn’t a coward. He would face what challenge all of this would give him, since he was certain there was one. It was the wheel of which he and T. had spoken. The wheel showing a new direction, perhaps a new phase. Perhaps the answer to the puzzle was before him – but he wasn’t yet ready to see it.

—————— Several years previously ————————

Suyuan (suyuan.quan) knew that he wouldn’t flinch or blanch, as assassins were trained to be the ideal and perfection of rigidness and unparalelled steadfastness. Oh, it was simple to imitate herself but each day that progressed, it became harder to resort back to her Pani face; stoicism while feeling a maelstrom inside. Her gaze flickered towards the collar-girl and she nodded towards her but focused back upon her ambition, “We do… but men so often interfere with it as their will must be exercised first before we are permitted to do what we wish.” Her voice was steady, careful, if not meticulous in the manner of which she spoke. But, she was still audacious, “Men’s greed prove to overween us too much and that is why we cannot complete our destinities. However…” She shifted to face him, holding a regal pose as if she were a queen, “I think of men and women like clay and bone. Men shatter like a clay pot and no matter how much you attempt to piece it back together, it will never be the same. Women however are bone. We break, but we can mend like nothing ever happened. When I was a child, my mother told me to think of myself as grass – born to be stepped on by men. But, I think of myself as a peacock among vulos.”

Crow (melchior.wardell) nods and his green eyes light up at the vivid picture her story held to him “It is those women that keep a men from breaking that are cherished and loved to the extent that wars will be fought to have them or own them.” he lifted his chin slightly while his eyes regarded her sharply “Did you ever consider how much spring a woman can bring to a man ?” he asks her but waved the question away “It is your bitterness … if you could lose it … your beauty would extent far more … than any sway of your hip or exposed skin could gain.” he lifted her chin tenderly even … “You can be the most beautiful peacock … if you learn to clean up your feathers and be without the weight of your past.”

Suyuan (suyuan.quan)’s almond-eyes broadened a bit though her expression remained serene, similar to that of a Buddha, Mona-Lisa, or perhaps an ost waiting to strike on its intended victim, “Have you ever heard of a phrase called ‘chi ku – eating bitterness’? It is a belief that adversity brings virtue. Oh Crow, I have swallowed my bitterness and moved on… but I know you are not unlike me… something weighs in your heart too. Something did break you.”

Crow (melchior.wardell) shook his head “I don’t know the expression … and I am aware of the fact that at one point in my life there was something that broke me … and it will never heal … as I have left it there … that piece will never be …” he could express it without the sadness that had owned him for the longest ever since the death of his companion and children “But the difference between you and I … it has not blemished my feathers … it has not tainted my heart by darkness … it has never been replaced since I never looked for replacement … which … you try.” he pulled her by her wrists closer and locked his eyes to hers “You speak of swallowing your bitterness and yet you spoke of what you my caste has taken … ” he released her and pushed her gently back to make his own movement to leave “I am sure we will continue this discussion … but until that time … that eating bitterness … also means to chew it before you swallow.” with that he moved further and left without giving her any time to respond.

———————— Present ——————-

Crow nodded to himself while the last of his own words dawned him. “we will continue the discussion” With that he lifted himself up to pay the Innkeeper and leave the room where the laughter of others tried to persuade him to dive deeper in his own memories of what never could be. He couldn’t replace it – nor mend it – nor disguise it – of that he was certain.