Completed Culture Shock

[Kuvarakh]

Kuvarakh allowed himself to sink into the water, not needing to breathe. He stayed on the bottom, looking for something to tie the whip to. The root of a nearby tree presented itself conveniently and he tied one end to it and the other end to his ankle.

He let himself drift up to the surface, keeping the tied ankle sightly below the surface, out of sight. The Zith had circled back around and landed by then. He paced on the edge of the pool, waiting for the body to drift closer. Kuvarakh had figured that a creature with wings of that sort would not swim well and would avoid it as much as possible.

After a moment, he heard the creature splashing in, wading towards him. He felt a clawed hand grip his wrist and start to tug him towards the shore. Kuvarakh knew that the whip had to be extended to near its full length by then. He tensed his legs in anticipation.

As soon as he felt the beginning of a tug on his ankle, he scissored his legs, rolling to grab the Zith's arm gripping his wrist with his other hand. He pulled hard with his hands at the same time as buckling his knees. With the whip anchored on the root, he had more than enough leverage to pull the Zith off his feet into the water.

There was nothing for the Zith to grab onto to resist being pulled under as Kuvarakh reached to grab the whip with one hand and pulled him further under. The Zith did not appear to realize that it was Kuvarakh doing the pulling. He was struggling, but it was more to see what other creature had hold of his arm. By the time he realized that his "victim" had somehow not drowned, there was enough slack in the whip for Kuvarakh to loop it over his enemy's head.

The creature struggled fiercely, tearing great gashes in Kuvarakh's side, slashing his throat and biting furiously. Kuvarakh didn't try to prevent these wounds. He knew he would need a new body, and he knew right where he was going to get it. Though he was not a great swimmer, he was better than his winged adversary. And knowing how to maintain leverage with kicks and spins, while keeping his choke hold on the whip, looped and twisted around the Zith's neck, gave him the advantage he needed. Soon, the Zith twitched a few times and went limp. Kuvarakh kept him under water for a full ten chimes, just to be sure.

[Kuvarakh]

When he rose from the water, guiding the dead body of the Zith, he was startled by a burst of oaths and gasps from behind and to the right side. He turned to look, finding his vision oddly tunneled and two-dimensional. At the same instant that one of the four men facing him muttered "Zulrav's Teeth!" and another cried "Rak'keli's Mercy!", he had discovered that almost the entire left side of his face was a raw field of tilled flesh, complete with empty eye socket.

There was a moment of stunned horror. These men, all varying shades of blonde vitality, tattooed and accompanied by stunningly beautiful horses, appeared torn between immediate extremes of medical care and an unrestrained hail of arrows. These two courses of action came under immediate debate among them as arrows were nocked in preparation for the possibility of the second option holding sway.

Inoadar thanked the gods, including those the men had just mentioned, that he had not yet undergone the body jumping ritual, as he had serious doubts he would be able to speak clearly once ensconced in the winged, furry body. By the looks of the riders, they were not going to give him the benefit of the doubt and any lack of communicative ability would only make it worse. He raised his hands.

"Please, do not shoot. I am no threat, not to you, your people, your land or your future. I know how I look and I can explain. Believe me, I do not herald the beginning of an invasion of some ghoulish army. Keep your weapons raised, if it keeps you calm, I do not mind. I understand your hesitancy." he said, being surprised again by the high female voice that came out.

This brought yet another look of shock from the men. One of them took one step ahead of the others, muttering back to the others, "She certainly speaks well enough. Keep them raised all the same." The others nodded their agreement, keeping their arrows trained on Kuvarakh. The man facing him lowered his bow but kept the arrow nocked, his natural ease with the weapon leaving no doubt in Kuvarakh's mind that it would take just the blink of an eye for him to reacquire and fire.

"You speak like a human, but you have wounds that would kill you if you were. Who are you? And WHAT are you?" the man slowly circled the pool as he asked, looking for he some clue as to the nature of the mutilated corpse he was speaking to.

The debate was on. Kuvarakh explaining his condition and existence as a Nuit, outlining the series of events that brought him to this pass, finally focusing on his intent to conduct the ritual that would allow him to survive in the Zith body. He didn't actually know the term "Zith", but the men, who called themselves "Drykas" named the winged body thus.

Many were the interruptions, and comments of disbelief and challenge, but with each lucid answer, Kuvarakh's story became more and more difficult to discount, if not believe. At best, it could be said that the men, while not necessarily ready to believe the account, DID accept that Kuvarakh believed it, and was of the peaceful intent he claimed.

The entire time, Kuvarakh had stayed in the water, away from the shore, lest the men rush him. They, in turn, indicated no desire to touch him in any way. The reached a sort of truce, Kuvarakh promising to stay where he was, the men promising not to shoot him full of arrows. One of the men went off a ways away and pulled something from a pocket, made a few gestures and then stood as if in conversation with some unseen individual. He came back after a while and spoke to the apparent leader of the party. They came to a quick accord and the leader turned to Kuvarakh.

"One of the masters of the Sapphires wishes to see this ritual you speak of. He supports your claim of being a Nuit. But has never actually witnessed the ritual. In exchange for this invasion of your privacy, he will give you a place to stay while you recover, as well as protection for as long as you stay in Endrykas in this...body." he made a face as he indicated the Zith form. Apparently, the Drykas and the Zith were not on very good terms.

Kuvarakh appreciated the mention of 'privacy' by this "Master", who appeared to have the means of communicating over some considerable distance. The ritual WAS a private matter and this master gave acknowledgement of it. It gave Kuvarakh reason to believe this was a case of a scholar wishing to expand an area of knowledge. How could he say no?

Besides, it had occurred to him a short time ago that he had brought nothing with him to make the requisite glyphs on the receiving body...

"Very well, I accept your offer." Kuvarakh said loudly, thinking that this "Master" may somehow be able to hear him. He adjusted his focus and vocal projection on the men before him, "So...who do I ride with?" His amused anticipation of a comically collective gasp and exchange of looks indicating "Not ME!" was not disappointed.

[Kuvarakh]

The Master met them a short ways out of town, bringing a cloak with a hood for Kuvarakh and a large box containing a variety of ritual items. He had not known which items would be needed so he had brought all sorts. He was somewhat disappointed that a simple charcoal stick was all Kuvarakh really needed. He explained that he COULD use rare and costly inks or paints, but there was no need and he would not see his benefactor exploited.

He went through the process, explaining each step as best he could. He pointed out, however, that the entire procedure was somehow engrained in the psyche of the transferring soul and was more or less instinctive. He did not truly know what the glyphs meant, but only that the body was encompassed by a network of them. Like compass points at the extremities, to linking glyphs at midway points, to the central hub on the torso.

The Master, as well as the men, found it interesting that the body was laid out in a manner largely similar to the way the Drykas laid out their dead for the free release of the soul. In the case of the Nuit ritual, though, the orientation was reversed. For the Drykas it was for the soul inside to be freed to the web. For the Nuit, it was for the empty vessel to receive a soul from outside.

Kuvarakh told them how he would now spend several hours draining the all-important ichor into the receiving body. He made no effort to deny the complete vulnerability of the Nuit at such a time. He also stated in no uncertain terms that it may be quite some time afterwards before he would be able to even walk normally, and that it might be weeks before he completely adjusted to the unique coordination of this body.

He thought of mentioning the benefits of embalming, but in truth, he wasn't expecting to remain in this body as long as usual, with its cruel appearance and extra set of limbs. He was not looking forward to learning to coordinate them, even to the point of just getting them to stay in place with no nerve-reactive twitches or stretches. Plus which, the wounds he had sustained were starting to tell on him and the extra time spent doing any embalming processes might put him in real danger. He had lost a lot of ichor already.

Before he began, he stated that he would need something to bring back to Riverfall to prove his identity to his detractors. Perhaps the Undan on his wrist and the clothes he was wearing. The Drykas promised they would see to it while he recovered.

When he was finished, he lacked the strength to even get to his hands and knees. The master wanted to ask him a volume of questions, but Kuvarakh scraped up the energy to shake his head. he tried to say 'tomorrow', but found, as he'd feared, that the tongue in this Zith body, was not accustomed to vocalizing words of common. Kuvarakh suspected that, with the energy gained by several hours of meditative rest, he could begin to work on that obstacle.

His meditation was interrupted briefly by a gasp from one of the men, quickly hushed by the master. If he'd have known what 'windmarks' were, he might not have shrugged off the exchange so easily.

[Kuvarakh]

Kuvarakh spent several weeks in Endrykas. He had heard something about a "traveling city" on the plains, but he didn't realize this was the one. Being from Zeltiva originally, there were certain similarities he noticed in the attitudes of those involved in maintaining the readiness to be mobile. The tents like giant sails on massive ships floating in an endless harbor.

He got his speech down in short order. Fortunately, it turned out these winged creatures DID possess tongues capable of human speech. There was some early uneasiness with the presence of a Zith strolling about. But, as he was not presenting an aggressive demeanor, there was no ugliness directed at him after the first few days, and even those incidents universally ended with apologies.

He spent sessions discussing his Nuit existence with interested scholars, and they took notes. At this early stage as a Nuit, he was surprised to learn that it was no simple matter to get Nuits to discuss their unique lives. He did not yet realize how unsociable most Nuits were. He had not yet amassed the emotional scar tissue brought on by multiple cycles of building friendships only to watch them grow old and die again and again. He had considered the eventuality of this, but had yet to truly endure it.

He also considered how lucky he was that this entire chain of events took place while the Drykas' city was on its stretch of proximity to Riverfall. A different season and he might never have found his way out of the Sea of Grass after taking over the Zith body. Now, in addition to all he was already enjoying, courtesy of the Drykas, they had offered to escort him back to Riverfall. Even more than with their own city was the danger of being shot down on sight likely upon approaching Riverfall. Here, the culture was defensive against the flying humanoids. In Riverfall, they were the object of ritual hunts.

There was discussion of him staying to impart some of his knowledge of hypnotism to one of the djed masters, but he did not have time to make any useful progress. It had taken him two years to learn even the bare basics and he did not want to stay longer than the several weeks he already had. He was unsure of the time limits on his quest and did not want to have his apparent success be denied on such a basis. He hoped he might be able to return someday though.

So, he was allowed to borrow a horse long enough for his party to reach the Akalak city to the north. By now he had gotten fairly used to the sensation of unused limbs centered on his back. These wings were useless to him, but there were still muscular signals causing nervous reactions with them and it was often unsettling to be aware of an extra set of folded up limbs attached behind him.

On the northern perimeter of the Sea of Grass, one of the men that had been in the party that found him before he had occupied the Zith body, rode out to join the group as they made their way to Riverfall. His name was Garren and Kuvarakh recalled that he had not seen much of him since the ritual. Garren spoke very little the rest of the way there, but seemed very focused inwardly about accompanying them.

Again, Kuvarakh shrugged off the development.

[Kuvarakh]

The ground rose and became rockier, with multiple redoubts and backtracks zig-zagging their way up the slopes and cliffs. They came around a bend in the ascent and found a quartet of armed Akalak blocking the road. They were not brandishing the weapons aggressively, but their holds left no doubt that they would be swift to draw them should they be given cause. The narrowed eyes focused on Kuvarakh suggested they felt such cause to be only a step from being given.

"Drykas, your trade is welcome, as always, but your associate is not. You surely are not ignorant of our policy towards...such as him." The apparent leader stepped forward from the rest as he spoke. His Lakan seemed to grow from his hand, and he used it to point at Kuvarakh. "His kind are not welcome among us. It will not be allowed even for him to remain here while you press on. He must return to his...people."

Kuvarakh spoke without stepping forward or dismounting. "Sir, I am not of the people that this body indicates. If my associates are content to wait with me, I ask you to do me the favor of informing Lorogon that his Venalla has returned, he was her Talvis and she has more to offer than a glassbeak's head. If you cannot locate him, you may relay the same message to Ti'sali, Venalla's former advocate with the Nakivak at Godiva's."

The Akalak stood shocked and suspicious, "You speak with surprising insight. How do you know of Venalla? And where is she said to have gone? And how would a Zith know of such things? Consider your answer well before speaking it, Zith, for if I sense an attempt at deception, your friends will watch you die and must not raise hand to aid you, lest they suffer a similar fate as conspirators."

Garren's face flushed with anger. Both sides of the confrontation straightened with surprise and hands poised upon weapons as he dropped from his mount and strode boldly to bring the point of the Akalak's lakan to the center of his chest. "So this is how you welcome neighbors, with whom you claim good relations, when they return one of your own back to your fold? I would like to say this cold disregard for courtesy comes as a shock to me, but I would not show you equal dishonor by lying to you."

The party captain stammered in shock for a moment, before barking in response, "GARREN! Stand down! What is the matter with you? This request...NEITHER of them..." his glance strayed to the Akalak, "...are unreasonable. We will be happy to await the resolution of whatever necessity is required of us. And this man was speaking to KUVARKH, not you!"

A spark of recognition registered in the eyes of the Akalak at the mention of the name 'Kuvarakh', but he quickly suppressed it, turning his glare away from Garren, who stood his ground defiantly, to Kuvarakh. "Speak then, that I may know what necessity I will be required to resolve." The threat and irony attached to these words was not veiled in any way.

Kuvarakh cleared his Zithene throat, "I know of Venalla, Nakivak to Lorogon, her Talvis, because when she died, I, Kuvarakh, am the Nuit who claimed her body to save my own life, her own having already fled. In grief and understandable skepticism, Lorogon challenged me to legitimize my claim to seek a place among the men of Riverfall with an unorthodox quest. While occupying her body, I was bidden to undergo the Rite of Trial and return with the head of a Glassbeak. I did not have the opportunity to complete this quest in the Sea of Grass, where my escort left me, because I was set upon by a Zith before ever I encountered a Glassbeak. This is his body you see before you now. I slew him and took HIS body, Vanella's having been horribly maimed and now given back to the plains per Drykas tradition. I now claim my position on the basis that the Hunt of a Zith, whatever it is called, is a higher level of quest than that upon which I was originally discharged, and should properly supersede it."

Everyone stood, momentarily dumbfounded. Except Garren, whose anger had now acquired an additional look of self-righteousness. The Akalak leader looked around at his men, who looked impressed by Kuvarakh's address. "A very smoothly delivered and well rehearsed answer. Very well, surrender your weapons and wait here. I will send for a change of the guard at this post and we will escort you into the city."

[Kuvarakh]

This having been done, Kuvarakh stood amidst his escort, looks of shock and loathing coming from every direction, but no hostile moves being made. The Akalak squad leader stepped from the group, clearing his throat, "There is no threat here. Despite appearances, this is not a Zith come among us. This is the Nuit, Kuvarakh, recently possessed of the body of the Nakivak, Venalla. He has returned from the imposed Rite of Trial."

There was surprised murmuring from the gathering crowd. The Akalak continued, "While unsuccessful in THAT endeavor, he has succeeded in a spontaneously inflicted Rite of Passage. The Zith you see before you is the very Zith he slew. He feels the success of the one should transcend the...incompletion...of the other. He wishes judgement to be made, acknowledging the lapse of the Trial in honor of the Passage. We are escorting him to his previous quarters while this matter is resolved."

"There is nothing to resolve." an angry voice growled from the crowd. Lorogon stepped out from the crowd, a demeanor of uncompromising demand defining his features. "He failed in his Rite, comes to us in the guise of our enemy, and murdered my 'promised'. Any right to 'resolution' belongs to me!" The crowd parted as the big man strode with deadly purpose towards Kuvarakh, Lakan in hand.

Yet one man, one of the Drykas, Garren, stood in his path, the look of hatred etched on his face with equal intensity. "Your 'promised' WHAT? Wife or SLAVE? Mother to your child, or RAPE VICTIM?" Venalla was my cousin's niece! She was traveling to her 'promised' husband -" he spoke the word as though it was poison, "- when her escort was ambushed by Zith."

The scene was frozen in horrified anticipation of impending violence, yet Lorogon did not interrupt as Garren continued. "Yet I honor the beasts more than her supposed rescuers! They are nothing more than animals, yet you hypocritically CLAIM some moral and cultural superiority. Yet you only 'rescue' her to force her into whorish status as an unloved brood mare for your race! Why else would she slay herself to be rid of this dishonor? You spoil her for the rightful claim of her virtue by her TRUE husband, then despise THIS man for giving meaning to a death otherwise demeaned as mere 'duty'." He pointed at Kuvarakh, who cringed in uncertainty, not wishing to discredit a man giving him support, yet doing so in a manner more inclined to generate hostility.

[Kuvarakh]

Lorogon's face quivered with fury, as did most of the other Akalak faces looking on. "What do you, an outsider, know of what it is to face racial extinction! To need women of other races to bear our young! Do you think any of these women find it demeaning to bear children to the most grateful of fathers? Yes, there is risk. Are you such a fool as would suggest that all the rest of Mizahar is safe from peril? Venalla would have died on the Sea of Grass, that area you Drykas keep so very safe, if not for us." his sarcasm was withering. Garren's jaw clenched, but he allowed Lorogon the same courtesy to continue uninterrupted.

"We HONOR our Nakivak like no other! We are on hand to rescue women who would DIE otherwise. Did your 'escort' do its duty, there would have been no need! They are grateful to repay us for their salvation. THEIR risk is offset tenfold by the honored status they enjoy among us."

Kuvarakh watched this continue with deep grief, regret and apprehension. He could see in Garren's face that none of the points Lorogon made were going to answer the one that still remained unanswered. The Drykas nodded with acknowledgement of many points the Akalak made, but always, self assurance kept a sneer on his features, knowing his response to all of them, '...Why, then, if she was so honored, did she slay herself?...' It hung in the air, waiting to be thrust into the heart of the big Akalak, and they both knew it.

Guilt and desperation rose to an unbearable weight on Kuvarakh's soul. This was all his fault. Had he not procrastinated in procuring a new body, he'd not have needed Venalla's and this entire scenario would have never occurred. There was becoming a very real threat of an "incident" occurring here. The kind that could bring open hostilities between these two cultures. He could see by the looks on several faces, Akalak and Drykas both, that he was not the only one considering this possibility.

Both men were deaf to the pleadings and insistence of others counseling calm and restraint. Someone was about to end up dead, and Kuvarakh sympathized with BOTH men. Justice would suggest it should be himself that made sacrifice to end this hostility, but he had become irrelevant now. His little mission was insignificant beside the angry debate that now raged between Garren and Lorogon. Even if he volunteered to kill himself it would end nothing. there would be a brief pause as everyone shook their heads at his pointless gesture and then the argument would continue.

He needed something to make himself the focus of both men's anger, to shift the blame. Some way that made her death his fault while also denying Garren his position of citing Venalla's suicidal attitude as stemming from her 'brood mare' status, as Garren described it.

Then it happened, Garren's voice rang out with smug viciousness, "Then why, if she was so loved and honored among your culture, did she wish to kill herself to avoid her noble duty?..." the sarcasm and disdain in his voice was pure poison.

Kuvarakh wanted to scream in mad desperation to please 'BLAME ME'. And suddenly, he knew what he had to do.

"SHE DIDN'T!!... IT WAS ME!...it was me..."

[Kuvarakh]

Grim resolution gave him strength to face the crowd as it turned as one to stare at him. He didn't know what he was going to follow up the comment with, but it was paramount that both Lorogon and Garren looked shocked and turned to him, rather than continuing to square off on each other.

Lorogon took a step towards him, his hands twitching, "So...you DID kill her. She did not WANT to die." his voice was both rage at Kuvarakh and triumph at Garren.

For his part, Garren looked bewildered, "What are you saying? You told us she was dead when you found her. Which is it? Why would you mislead me to make false accusations?" Both men started to look suspiciously at him, the thought that he might be trying to defuse their confrontation with some phony claim, occurring to them both at the same time.

All at once, he felt a touch on his mind as- 'dying' - was planted there. He had developed his hypnosis enough to recognize the likelihood that this was the source of this thought. But he grabbed at it like a drowning man. "I did not kill her, but she was dying...of poison...I could not save her."

Lorogon stomped up to grab him by the throat. "WHY DID YOU NOT CALL FOR HELP? A healer would not have been far, that close to Godiva's!" Garren made no comment, his curiosity warring with anger at the possibility of having been manipulated.

Kuvarakh had to improvise. He suspected that whoever was feeding him his directions would give him only the crucial ideas. He needed to pause for every comment to establish a pattern so his helper could do so. He hung his head, taking a moment. "I was not that close to Godiva's when I found her. I... took her there after she died. She told me to take her body! She said she could see I needed it. She...wanted... some good to come of it."

"TO COME OF WHAT?" Lorogon roared. Kuvarakh shrank back, trying to think of a useful response. Then it hit him - 'miscarriage' - and a full story began to form in his mind.

"Her miscarriage. She... found she was barren... and did not want to... could not live with the shame she would bring." He stammered, knowing now that he needed them to respond to know what exact reaction to give.

Now Garren stepped forward, beside Lorogon "Bring shame to who? Her intended husband? Or Lorogon?" Lorogon looked at Garren briefly, his face showing his desire to know the same thing. Kuvarakh felt profound relief at seeing a bond now forming between the two men, where moments before they were ready to kill each other. He'd have been glad to die to get this resolution, but now he had reason to hope that would not be necessary.

He hung his head, and his grief was not feigned. Although his relief was enough to bring a smile to his face, he still felt great bitterness over the fact that he was blatantly lying about this poor girl's honor to save a situation of his own making, regardless of its unintended nature.

"Both of you."

[Kuvarakh]

Garren and Lorogon were now shoulder to shoulder in their confrontation with Kuvarakh. "Speak plainly, then. What could have transpired to bring shame to us BOTH?" Garren pressed him. Lorogon simply stood glaring, arms folded, as he too, awaited Kuvarakh's answer.

The answer was fed again into Kuvarakh's thought from some outside source, but he did not need it now. He knew what course this lie must take to prevent this incident from creating a rift between these two men. "She was in love with a THIRD man. A Drykas. She was not on her way to her waiting husband-to-be when the Zith ambushed. She was running away with her lover. That was why the party was so easily overwhelmed. She only had a pair of escorts to protect her. Just he and one other, a brother, or friend, I suppose."

Garren leaned in threateningly, "You LIE! If she loved this man enough to shame my cousin, she would not have left his side. She would have died with him!"

Lorogon countered his charge. "Not so. The Zith take women for slaves. This is the most common horror that we rescue them from. They would not have killed her. All are grateful for the salvation we extend them."

"Salvation?!" Garren spat back. "To see one you love enough to betray a vow killed? And then be grateful to leave him behind? Just to go to the bed of strangers? She'd have killed herself first!" he saw the scowl on Lorogon's face and added, "I do not mean any particular insult to the Akalak people. But she'd have been too overcome with grief to call it 'salvation' from ANY rescuers."

"Not if she was already carrying his child." Kuvarakh said quietly. But though softly spoken, the words hit like boulders for the shock they spread.

Lorogon staggered back a step. "She already carried HIS child? Then she lied to me." Kuvarakh said nothing and Lorogon continued. "Why would she do this to me? Why make a fool of me? She knew her child would not be Akalak. She knew she could not get away with it. It is an outrage!"

"She came to realize that. She said much the same thing, through her tears. She had wanted the child to grow strong, strong like your people. So he could avenge his father. But she came to know the shame of her dilemma. Her regret was great. She knew what it meant to have done this to you and she was sad at how she knew you would feel."

"I would not have cast her out!" Lorogon protested. "Accommodations would have been made. Her debt would still be unpaid, but it would have proven her ability all the more!"

"But that's the whole point!" Kuvarakh cried, "She miscarried! She had nothing now! No child to remember her love by. No son to avenge him. Unable now to bear YOUR child. Disgraced among your people."

Garren looked stricken as he muttered, "Unable to return to her OWN people." he hung his head. "Gods forgive her...Gods forgive us all."

[Kuvarakh]

The crowd began to disperse. Lorogon remained, his face softened somewhat as he asked, "When did she tell you all of this?"

Kuvarakh's eyes dropped momentarily. He raised them slowly to look directly into the big Akalak's face. "As she lay dying in my arms. She told me she took poison. You may not believe this, but I made up the account of her drowning to avoid all this. I knew I would have to answer for taking her body, but I did not think it would be such an issue since she was not carrying your child."

Lorogon's fists clenched, "I thought it WAS my child she carried. She deceived me, told me it was mine. I feel for her grief, but it is no excuse to be dishonest with me. Her Drykan child would have been cared for while she carried mine..." Lorogon's eyes dropped as he recalled what he'd just been told, "...if it had...lived."

"I'm very sorry, Lorogon. I hope you can forgive my inept handling of the situation. But I was still weak and the whole thing blew up before I had a chance to think of how I would break it to you."

Lorogon looked up sharply. "Forgive? Certainly I forgive. I forgive a parasite for being a parasite. it is their nature, but it makes you no less disgusting to me. Did you ask her if you could take her body when she died? I suspect you were all too eager to take it. Was her death convenient for you? Now that I know her lies, I think it convenient for me as well. You two deserve each other! Stay away from me, vermin, and consider yourself fortunate that I no longer care enough about the whore to strike you dead. You did not dishonor her, for she had no honor to begin with." he turned away and stormed off.

His words were needles of ice. It was not so much that it bothered Kuvarakh what Lorogon thought of him, as that it had been necessary to besmirch Venalla's name so completely. But it had prevented the escalation of the situation into a major incident which might have put these neighboring cultures on a hostile footing. He hoped her spirit would find rest and a better rebirth.

He looked around for a few chimes, hoping to find someone showing signs of hypnotic strain, so he could thank them for their aid. There was no sign of any such person. He was not surprised, really. If he was seen talking to someone immediately after this resolution, and that person was known to practice hypnotism, it might raise suspicions anew. Perhaps it was best to forget about the whole thing. Looking into the mirror and seeing a Zith for the next two years would make it difficult, but he would make the effort.

For now, it was back to the books...