That Vine Is Mine! [Inoadar]

[Vanari]

Fall, Day 81, 513 AV Vanari squinted up at the clouded, noon sun, then back down at the ominous woods that stretched before her. In one hand, she held the reins of her newly purchased mountain pony, whom she had affectionately named Pie, due to the pony's baked crust-like coat. In her other hand, a small, brown piece of parchment shivered as a breathe of cold wind blew by, bringing with it promises of Winter. It struck a twinge of homesickness in her troubled heart, but the Vantha ignored it. Right now, she had more important matters to tend to. Important matters, such as figuring out what the petch she was supposed to be looking for, dig it up, and then make it back to the city without getting stabbed or eaten. Or both. She looked down at the list again. So far, she'd managed to get most of the ingredients; they were fairly common, and probably meant more for aesthetic or olfactory purposes. This last one, though... Vanari heaved a sigh, then began walking toward the forest, her Tamos unsheathed long before she had made up her mind. She led Pie gently by a length of rope she had been fortunate enough to obtain through less than noble means when one of the careless caravan drivers was haggling over a pound of grain. It was just sort of sitting there at the back of the caravan, and she was in sore need of someway to lead her new pony. So, she took it. It was now or never, and she made it a habit to choose the former. One step. Four steps. Ten steps. She gulped as she neared the trees and various flora and fauna sprawled before her, remembering all too well what surprises had laid in wait for her the last time she'd been here. And this time, there was no one to save her. Steeling her resolve, she marched forward and allowed the forest to consume her and Pie, trying her best not to dwell too long on such a personification of something she felt quite strongly had a mind of its own. Back at The Bazaar, she had been told by a kindly merchant that this particular herb she needed could not be bought from common folk and was only harvested out in the wilderness beyond Lakeshore. She'd also been assured she wouldn't have to walk too deep into the forest. Pfft, Vanari scoffed. She'd already been walking for a good handful of chimes, and she saw nothing. What a load of-- She stopped dead in her tracks. Pie bumped her soft head against the Vantha's shoulder and shook her mane in annoyance, but remained true to the legacy of her breed: tempered, sound, and wary of things amiss. Something was very, very odd about this particular clearing. For one, there were burn marks. Not the kind a fire might leave, but the kind that suggested struggle and chaos and gods knew what else. For another, in the midst of the ash and scorch marks were greenish, brown veins growing heartily out of the seemingly ruined earth. They were even budding vibrant red flowers, which looked rather pleasing if one ignored their gravely suspicious surroundings. Vanari was usually diligent and disciplined when it came to serious tasks, but the eeriness of the woods, combined with the obvious signs of ill-omen all around her, made her more than a little anxious to get what she came for and get the petch out of there. She tied Pie to a tree, though she was careful to keep the knot loose in case trouble came to find them. The vagrant crouched down to inspect the vines and poked at one of the red buds gingerly with her dagger. It didn't bite or exude some noxious gas, so she deemed it safe enough. How to go about doing this? Should she just hack blindly away? Or try to find a specific section... The Vantha was in the middle of her internal debates when she heard a twig snap behind her. She whipped her head around. Nothing. Memories of her last paranoia-filled visit flooded her mind, and she began to hack at the vines, not caring a fig for her earlier concerns. By the time she had finished harvesting as much of the vines as she could, her forehead was beaded with sweat and she shaking a little from anxiety. But the deed was done, and she and Pie were free to return to relative safety. Vanari began coiling the vines into a rough bundle, careful not to knock off any of the buds, and stuffed them into her cloak. She then tied her cloak to her waist and loosened Pie's rope from the tree, looping it around the pony's neck to keep it out of the way. Fortunately, she was tall for her kind and Pie was not, so it wasn't too difficult of a task jumping onto the pony's back. Hands lightly gripping a fistful of dun colored mane, she dredged up her old lessons of bareback riding and nudged the pony around, fully prepared to make a hitchless, peaceful return.

[Inoadar]

It had been well over ten days now. Inoadar had checked all his contacts for any further developments regarding the search for Forus. Mostly nothing new, but his courtesan friend at The House of Immortal Pleasures had been unaccountably absent and may have news next time he saw her. 'Off her back and on her feet.' he chuckled to himself as he made his way slowly through the woods.

He wondered if the Yukmen from back on the sixty...whatever date it had been...if they'd driven off the wolves with their unnatural presence. Though he and Kyodaija had barely prevailed over a mob of them in that clearing, he still fumed over the loss of all that Englehorn Vine he'd just finished gathering. But with little in the way of bludgeoning weapons, he'd had to set it aflame and exploit the freaks' tendency to mimic, to get them chasing into the smoke over and over, where the fumes caused choking, weakness and coughing up blood. Kyo, was then able to crush them, pretty much one by one. Then they'd used the fire to burn the bodies. Kyo told him that was what needed to be done, and he had been in no condition to argue with a Dhani constrictor in a bad mood.

He'd worn a rag over his face, actually a sleeve from his extra shirt, but the smoke and fumes had clung to the fabric to nearly disable him as well. They'd dragged themselves from the scene to make their way back to town. It had occurred to Inoadar that there had been one bundle that might have remained intact. It was strewn about, a thrown Yukman, doused in oil, had run screaming in circles, dragging the vines with him.

Inoadar had gathered them from the trees originally, but it was possible they'd take root in the clearing as well. Plus which, they grew fast. It had been a good twelve days or more now and he was eager to see if there was a new batch to collect. The woods rose in a gentle slope and came down into the clearing. As he crested the rise, his horse, Handy, took note of some presence, whickering softly. Inoadar's crossbow was in his right hand before he realized it, his sighting lens in his left, propped to his eye as he scanned the surroundings. He looked and saw, in the clearing, a young woman was crouched in the clearing, pulling up...His Vines!

He dismounted and sneaked his way down to the treeline bordering the clearing. It was a human woman, by all appearances, but you never knew. He sent Handy one way while he went the other. He assumed Handy would not be stealthy when there were no predators about. And sure enough, the horse stepped on a twig with a snap loud enough to get the girl's attention. She finished hurriedly, to get to her feet and return to her horse. The timing disrupted Inoadar's plan and he was forced to hurry back to step out into the open.

"I suppose I should thank you for gathering up MY vines for me. I would have been quite put out if I'd have turned out to make this trip only to be robbed of them a second time." he began, his overly courteous voice belying the loaded crossbow he tapped against his leg. "But I wouldn't dream of being so ill-mannered as to make you carry them for me, so you may feel free to simply drop them where you are and ride on."

[Vanari]

Vanari had just stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth to cluck Pie into motion, when the mountain pony balked and shook her mane from side to side. The girl's tongue fell flat and her eyes darted across the foliage. Something was coming through the trees up ahead. Horse and Vantha alike froze, their ears pricked in alarm. Moments later, they were rewarded for their caution as a lean, darkly clad figure stepped into the clearing. Before either could react, the mysterious fellow began speaking, a crossbow tap-tapping not-so-subtly against his leg. He was saying something about vines and being robbed, but all Vanari could focus on were three things: One, his pale face and green eyes, which contrasted starkly with his dark clothing, seemed to harbor terrible promises even as his tongue spoke calm, reasonable words of courteous conviction. Two, the crossbow was loaded. And three, he appeared to be alone. "...So you may feel free to simply drop them where you are and ride on." Ordinarily, Vanari, being of little to no use in any form of combat, would have complied. After all, he had a cross bow, and she did not. There were too many reasons to do just as the man told her--she was incompetent, the vines weren't that important, and she had grown fond of Pie and imagining an arrow sticking out of the pony's bleeding flank tore a seam in her heart. And then, in the most unlikely of moments, thoughts of Ria, of her slippery god, and of Vanari's own dreams, floated to the forefront of her mind. It was foolhardy and stupid to think of this as anything other than a good time to forfeit. But, somehow cowering in the face of danger didn't seem like the course of action a true champion of Ionu would take. Time to go big, or go home. The Vantha nodded, maintaining her visage of terror and obedience and keeping her movements free of threat. She shifted carefully, as though moving to dismount her pony... ..and then she kicked Pie into motion, letting loose a wild battle cry as she did. The mountain pony's sturdy legs lurched them forward, building speed as they crashed through the woods. Vanari had aimed for the trees, in hopes that if the man bothered wasting his time shooting at them, he might hit bark instead of flesh. She kept low as her fingers clutched the pony's mane and her legs, Pie's pumping ribs. As they trampled plant life indiscriminately and plowed their way out of the woods with reckless abandon, the Vantha felt a distinct suspicion that she may very well have lost her mind. And then she laughed, the sound ludicrous and hysterical even to her own ears, as she sent a prayer out loud to The Trickster. "This one's for you, dearest Ionu!" She blew a kiss into the air and, imagining an arrow zooming for her head, ducked close to Pie's neck, grinning like a madwoman all the way.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar would guess that the young woman had incredible luck. As she lit out on her horse, her image suddenly doubled in his vision, as though he had teared up. He could only assume some bit of dust had been kicked up and made a bee-line for his eye. He blinked several times and wiped his eyes to no effect. He would have to do the best he could. He set his aim between the two images then, with just a nudge to lead her, and fired.

Strangely, his vision cleared right after his shot and he could clearly see the bark chip from a tree beyond her. "DAMN IT!" he growled, knowing he should have targeted the horse, not the rider. It would probably not have brought it down immediately, but it would have slowed it enough to make it an easy chase.

But in a sense, he was glad, because he hated targeting mounts. They were not responsible for the offenses of their masters and were rarely even aware of the danger he would present to them. Thinking creatures like humans didn't have the defense of being "dumb animals" and bore all the responsibility of having made enemies. Their animals were too often made to suffer for their master's decisions. An unwelcome thought of Clyde Sullins came suddenly to mind, but he shook it off as he ran whistling toward his own mount, Handy.

No, people that killed animals to make a job convenient were beneath contempt. He was not averse to exploiting them, though. For instance, he used Kelvic blood that he drew from his slave/assistant, Ariella, but he did not hurt her in the process. And as for her slave status, that had been a spur of the moment thing to save her life. As well, he understood the necessity of dealing with trained and armored war mounts like the Syliran Knights used. Those creatures deserved no more mercy than their arrogant, self-righteous, hypocritical masters did.

But he was too proud and too confident to shoot the poor unknowing mount out from under this girl who didn't have the sense to yield to his command. If he could catch her, and get her off her horse, he could probably get her to give up the vines. They were his livelihood, for shyke's sake! What could she need them for so badly that she'd defy a man with a crossbow. She couldn't have known that he wouldn't shoot her horse or, for that matter, that he was not a particularly good shot.

He climbed into the saddle and kicked Handy's flanks, shouting for added impetus. Handy started with a high neigh and then broke into a gallop that nearly pulled Inoadar from the saddle. He managed to overcome the inertia and got himself leaned forward into his mount's increasing speed. The trail wound through trees now and Handy slowed quite a bit.

Inoadar cursed under his breath as he realized he was going to have to watch for side trails the girl might have taken. The woods would be like this for nearly a bell before they broke into a long plain taking up a fair amount of the landscape south of the lake. If he took the time to check every possible side trail, then he'd be too far behind her even when he DID reach the flat, possibly even with his sighting lens. He decided that if she was hidden, she would still have to come back to town. He could wait for her at the ferry after stabling Handy. He kicked his mount again, but did not try to spur him to a gallop. He did not want to exhaust him.

[Vanari]

Vanari risked taking a peek behind her and nearly fell off Pie's back with relief at the absence of the pale faced man. For the past bell or so she had been imagining the thousand different ways she and Pie could be shot, ambushed, trapped, kidnapped, gutted, and executed. Occasionally, she swore she could hear him galloping after them, and pictured vividly a crossbow aimed right between her eyes every time she risked a glance backwards. The Vantha continued bouncing along as Pie trotted through the forest. Having deemed it more or less safe, she allowed the pony to rest from the mad galloping they'd engaged in for at least half a bell, though she still nudged Pie's muzzle away anytime the pony tried to munch on things. They broke out of the woods not long after, and Vanari never felt so happy to see the gloomy shore and even gloomier Stryfe. Her shoulders sagged in exhaustion, and she didn't so much dismount as she did topple from Pie's back onto the rough ground. Once again, she found herself met with the perplexing paradox that made up Ravok and its complicated sense of good and evil. One one hand, the Stryfe were militant, intimidating, and sometimes downright inhumanly brutal. On the other hand, they also stood as enforcers of peace, safety, and justice. So, while Vanari was scared half to death of them after having seen them in action only once, she was also gripped with the sudden urge to kiss one of them out of sheer, joyous relief. Now, all she had to do was wait for the ferry to return, lock herself in her room at Tarsin's, and pray she never saw that green-eyed man and his crossbow again. Easy as pie... ...right?

[Inoadar]

Inoadar got off track in the trees and came out on a side path that suddenly placed a broad swath of swampy mire in front of him. He took the opportunity to scan the distance through his sighting lens and saw Vanari. She was not as far ahead of him as he'd feared, but she was far gone from anything he could do with his crossbow.

He started into the wet ground, testing the stability of it, when Handy suddenly reared, and danced back neighing, dumping Inoadar onto the muddy slop as a Ravokian Water Moccasin hissed and coiled defensively nearby. For a moment, Inoadar thought about trying to pin it with his cane and see if there was some way to bring it back to the shop and milk it. But now, Handy was sidling away nervously and the girl with his vines was getting further away.

"Next time, you lovely little bastard." he saluted the snake and went to collect Handy, resigned now to backtracking and falling much further behind the girl. He had started to worry that she might be one of those nut cases that tried to live in the wild. If that had been the case, she'd probably have some fellow idiots living with her in some ruins, and that could present some difficulties.

But having seen the direction she was riding, he was now reassured that she was a resident of Ravok and would be waiting at the ferry. He hurried back to where he'd lost the trail and took the other branch. His only concern now was if she got there at just the right time to catch a ferry that was ready to leave for the city right away. He knew the odds were against it, but he didn't want to take the chance and spurred Handy to a series of short gallops, broken by equally short trots.

As he started the slow turn around the Southwest corner of the lake and stopped to scan the water with his sighting lens. He saw a ferry in the distance and had to watch a moment to determine that it was approaching the shore, not the city. He smiled with anticipation as he continued on toward the Trading Post.

He stopped at Lakeside Stables and brushed down Handy, speaking calmly to him as he watered and fed him. He knew the stable hands were tasked to do this for him, but he preferred to do it himself when he was there. They were only for days that he did not cross to the shore. He thought any opportunity to reinforce trust with his mount was to be taken advantage of.

That done, he combed his hair and straightened his clothes, nodding to the guards, many of whom he slipped gratuities to from time to time. They would give him no trouble as long as he didn't actually kill the girl right here. He walked up the stone trail giving the guards his usual accounting of himself as a producer of serums and medicines and handed his citizenship papers, the ones which identified him as "Nolan Parnell". Satisfied, the guards allowed him through. He headed to the broad landing where people awaited the approaching ferry.

He smirked to himself at the thought that the girl was probably dying of anxiety, wishing the ferry would hurry. She HAD to know he could show up any second. If he'd had his disguise kit with him, he might have taken the opportunity to spy her out, keep her under surveillance to see if there was any other valuable purpose she could serve. But it was too unlikely he could escape notice on the long trip back to town without a disguise.

But he decided to stay out of sight until they boarded and departed the shore for the return trip. THEN he would reveal himself. He didn't want her making a fuss and risking that the Stryfers would intervene to keep peace at the Trading Post. On board the ferry there would really be nothing she or they could do.

he kept himself on the far side of various groups, laughing along with the comments of strangers to seem a part of this or that group. Once aboard he spied her out and made sure to stay out of sight until the boat pulled out. Then he snuck around the far side of the boat to come upon her from the side. 'Awww, she looks so relieved.' he sneered inwardly.

He flopped down beside her suddenly and leaned in close, his green eyes gleaming with cold malice that belied his seemingly kind words. "I'm terribly sorry. It appears I owe you an apology. I thought you were only gathering my vines up for me. Had I known you were going to offer to carry them all the way back to town for me, I would not have bothered you. But please, you can give them to me now...Right now."

[Vanari]

For the sake of avoiding attracting the attention of the Stryfe, Vanari maintained composure. Even though her neck fair prickled with anxiety and every few ticks she would look behind her, utterly sure her last sight would be that of an arrow flying for her face, the Vantha did her best to act normal. She had enough troubles on her plate. She told herself to breathe as she lead Pie to the stables, suddenly fearful of letting go of the rope that connected her to her equestrian savior. The Vantha promised the stablehand she would pay them extra if he took good care of her pony and reluctantly handed over the makeshift reigns. She would have to get proper equipment sooner or later, but that was another worry for another day. Still, she slipped five silvers to the stablehand, cementing a bit of her promise in hopes he would not forget. Once she said a fond farewell to Pie, Vanari sat behind a crate and waited impatiently for the ferry to come. Her foot tapped so hard in anxiety it left a sizable hole in the soft ground and her neck was developing a cramp from how often it twisted and craned at every new sound and sight. By the time the ferry's familiar bulk came gliding into view, it was all she could do not to leap and shout for joy. She was one of the first to board and took a seat in the back, stuffing her newly acquired goods under her chair. Sighing, she sank a bit into the seat, trying to convince herself to relax. Five ticks later, she decided her spot was too vulnerable and moved everything, including herself, to hunker down by the rails. She let her feet dangle over the water, which calmed her with memories of Ria, but kept one eye trained on the other passengers. It was a bit dizzying after a while, keeping track of all these strangers, so within a chime or two she deemed it safe enough and allowed her gaze to drift along the rippling lake water. It imbued a sense of tranquillity in her, and she found herself nodding off not long after... ...and then a familiar voice hissed right into her ear, forever shattering her false sense of peace. Vanari's heart lurched as she scrambled to her feet, gathering her bundles with her and staring with wide, dark blue eyes at the pale faced man. How on Mizahar...? "H-hey, look," the Vantha stuttered, her heart still battering itself senseless against her ribs. She had one hand clutching her belongings and the other stretched out as if to hold the man at bay. "I'm not itching to make any trouble...someone told me I could harvest these. As an alternative, for Halbriar. So I did. There was no mention of it belonging to anyone. If you promise not to, er, kill me, maybe we can...share." Vanari tried her best to look sincere, but it was hard, what with her intense suspicions over the man's intentions and all. Ravok had its notorious reputation for a reason; if a man was willing to fire a crossbow at a woman over some petching vines, it was likely an unsavory means to an even more unsavory end. And, given the supposed properties of these vines... ...well, enticing Ria with something potentially aphrodisiac-like was one thing. Whatever this man intended was probably entirely another. Her vision narrowed. She really was in no position to be making demands, but if he was going to kill her she might as well go out with a bang. "What do you want them for anyways?"

OOC :

Yep, she totally has the wrong plant in her hands. Feel free to mention this, or not

[Inoadar]

Inoadar snorted in disgust. 'That's a damned stupid tactic,' he thought disdainfully, 'She thinks she can spit out a ridiculous story like that?' It was downright insulting! Inoadar was no great herbalist, but as sure as Priskil's perjury, he knew the difference between a vine and a tree! "What nonsense is this? Who do you think you're dealing with? Some moron who goes after herbs without knowing what they are? I don't know whether to be more insulted that you think I might be that stupid, or that I'm so gullible as to let YOU off for being that stupid! Halbriar indeed!" he snorted again.

He looked at her extended arm with mock pity. "You know, you only make yourself more vulnerable giving me something to grab so easily like that. One hand grabs the wrist, pulls it forward, taking you off balance and then slamming the back side of the elbow with the other hand while keeping it stretched straight and POP, broken arm. Do yourself a favor girl, and give them over before you hurt yourself with them."

Her look was quite scared, but there was something else. Actual sincerity. 'Does she really believe these are a fertility aid?' they narrowed their eyes at almost the same time. She surprised him somewhat by asking what he wanted then for. 'As if it makes any petching difference what I want my own property for!' There was only one valuable purpose they had, and it wasn't as the party garlands that some fools used them for. He wondered what some celebrants would do if they knew how afflicted they would become of even a single holiday candle got too close and set one alight.

He made a face of amused perplexity. "Are you serious? 'What do I want them for?' I want them for what they are used for." He hesitated a moment, unsure if he should brazen it out in public. But this was Ravok, his shop was fairly well known. There was no reason to be secretive. "I want them for the respiratory toxin that runs throughout every part of them. If you think they are a fertility booster..." he chuckled, suddenly genuinely amused, "...the only thing you're going to give birth to are your own petching lungs when you cough them out your pretty face!"

"Now look, believe it or not, I don't want to hurt you. But those are mine. Come on, admit it, you found those already bundled and tied in that field. I left them there ten or twelve days ago. I HAD to. A Dha-...a friend of mine got ambushed by Yukmen and I didn't have time to get all of them. We had to set most of the vines on fire to weaken and choke them so we could finish them off. But not before I got the Shyke beat out of me by those petching...rock...petching...bastards. I've still got a couple broken ribs, I think, and I'm not giving these vines up now! I packed four bundles of them, and have yet to get even ONE of them!"

[Vanari]

She was anticipating either a miraculous agreement to her terms, or to be shot in the face outright. There were variations in the ways she died, sure, but those were the basic outcomes she had prepared for. What Vanari wasn't expecting was for him to yell at her like he was the matron of her Arvintas and she the idiot child who had once again stacked all the dishes in the wrong cabinet. Vanari flinched under the steady heat of his anger, and at his comment about her outstretched limb she snatched her hand back as though she'd touched a burning kettle. People were staring now, but neither paid them any mind. "...the only thing you're going to give birth to are your own petching lungs when you cough them out your pretty face!" Oh gods...The Vantha looked down at the vines bundled haphazardly in her cloak. How could she have been so stupid and careless? She could have murdered Ria! Well, that is, if she didn't kill herself first in the process of making whatever insane thing she had purchased the recipe for. And how dare he insinuate... Fertility? Her?? Never! Ruby eyes flicked up abruptly, mirrors to the man's own anger. "I am not giving birth to anything." It wasn't the most rational thing to say in her given situation, but petch it. The man went on, oblivious, to rant about why he had left the vines behind, and something about a friend and Yukmen and getting the shyke beaten out of him. Vanari liked the last part, and was puzzled over the second. This guy had friends? "I didn't find any petching bundles," she spat. "I cut up some vines, and then you showed up. With a crossbow. End of story. " Again, not the most rational approach, but for some reason this man seemed to have a knack for getting under her skin like no other denizen of Ravok had so far. Something about being scolded made her blood boil. It was silly, really. She ought to just give up the vines, especially now that they were no good to her, and especially not to Ria. All this trouble could be avoided, and no one had to get hurt. Simple as that. Somewhere in the midst of a battle between self-preservation and emotion, she registered these thoughts. But it stung her pride to give in so easily. So, she kicked them clear out of her conscience. "I understand your pain, I do," Vanari responded, suddenly serene, before a crooked grin spread and her eyes flashed a mischievous green to match the stranger's own. "But, I spent four bells on this thrice-blasted ferry--soon to be eight--and I went through nearly as much shyke to get these. I don't like to go home empty-handed after such a long, trying day, anymore than you do. So, how about we make a trade?" She extracted the vine-filled cloak from her arms, then leaned casually against the rails. "You can have your vines. If, you agree to ever so charitably aid my ignorant self in the making of a simple, little concoction. You seem to know what you're doing, whereas I don't, so it's only logical, right? It's just a gift for a friend. Nothing complicated." With a quick flick and shove, Vanari flipped the bundle over the rail. Now it dangled precariously over the churning lake, water lapping up against the ferry's hull as though hungry to reach her potential offering. "You can say yes," she cooed, "or you can say good-bye. What's it gonna be?" She leaned closer to the edge, resting her cheek on the hand that gripped the folds of her make-shift bag--the hand that was now the only thing standing between someone having vines and no one having vines. Her face was still split in a devilish grin, and it only grew wider as a sudden thought struck her. "Hey, do you really think I'm pretty?"

[Inoadar]

Inoadar rolled his eyes at her inane reference to whether she was giving birth or not. But her anger seemed genuine, which made her insistence that she hadn't found any bundled vines all the more believable. 'Could they have taken root? So soon?' he asked himself as her defensive anger seemed to calm.

But he found his annoyance piqued anew as she embarked on her sad tale of wasted time and effort. 'As if her one trip being wasted makes up for my two trips.' And he was right on the verge of scoffing at the notion that he owed her any sort of "charitable aid" whatsoever, when a thought occurred to him. He had his new Kelvic assistant and potential bodyguard, Ariella.

She was a white tiger and was quite the specimen. With training, she would be an ample shop assistant, and could even possibly become an actual LAB assistant someday. But her primary role right now was as bodyguard. Now this was largely unknown to her, as she had that naive Kelvic human worship that conflicted with her feral nature. She didn't really realize that her intimidating animal form was her best service to him. He had enemies in town and a snarling white tiger would give most anyone second thoughts about confronting him. And her enhanced animal senses would be a boon to detecting ambushes.

The trick was to get her to abandon this notion that humans were some saintly race of superior beings without letting that notion reduce her adoration for him. Again, his trade was going to darken her perspective of him as savior and benefactor. He needed to demonstrate unexpected acts of wisdom and kindness to secure her opinion that, though humans were, for the most part, nothing special, HE was worthy of her devotion.

And here was such an opportunity. This woman, trapped and pleading, was just the sort of waif that he could bring back to the lab to let Ariella see a demonstration of his generosity and benevolence. That which set him apart from the rest of wretched humanity.

He nearly choked on his attempt to generate a facade of cooperative resignation when she hung the bundle over the railing, threatening to drop it if he didn't come to terms with her. 'Is she going to be my next petching "Amolina"?' he thought, recalling his nemesis-turned-partner, Amolina Moletta, a woman that had been a repeated thorn in his side for far longer than he had ever intended to let her live. Fate, and perhaps Rhysol's own random acts of chaos, had thrown them together, and they had been forced to work together. He had found her to be quite a bit more capable than he had initially thought.

But what had been in his thoughts right now was how much he had hated her and wished to see her dead. And this girl, here now before him, dangling his vines over the edge of the ferry, was playing the same dangerous game Amolina had started with. He decided to combine generosity with intimidation.

"That question, sweetheart, I will answer with another question, 'How good a swimmer are you?' because if you think you are going anywhere but in the water after them, you're kidding yourself. But don't panic, I think you are right. I think we can work something out. I'm not sure what sort of...uh..."concoction" you have in mind. I assumed you liked the vines for their decorative value, but I guess you were thinking more along the lines of some type of serum or philter?" he cocked his head a bit to the side, waiting for a response. She seemed to be considering it, but said nothing, so he went on.

"If you simply want me to buy them from you, I suppose I could give you an offer, but it would be in the area of a compromise. If you want me to appreciate the trouble you've gone to, you need to do the same for me. I'll need to gauge how much...uh..."product" I can expect to get out of the bundle, then I'll give you half that. OR if there's some sort of drug I can prepare for you, we can work that out back at the shop."

He thought it best to pretend he hadn't heard her last question, and made as if something only just occurred to him, "Oh wait, I'll need to go to the shop in either event. I don't have my money with me." He gave her a kindly look, "You can hold onto the vines until we get there, if you wish."