(Those interested in playing can check out the other part of the story told by Altair Dusk, in Miriel. PM if you wish to join. Thanks.)

The old man was livid. “What do you mean ‘bend over’?!” the voice rasped, mimicking the sound of dry leaves rubbing against one another. The withered hands thrown upwards, trembling and shaking with every syllable that was being uttered. The skin stretched over every bone in the man’s body, emphasizing his already gaunt appearance and made his eyes look like they were going to implode from the sheer volume of his voice.

   “Shaloub, please…” appealed his wife of many years. “It’ll only be for a short while… and no one else is going to see anything.” She placed her hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

   “Can you just give me something that I can apply, by myself?” Shaloub implored, his voice softening immediately.

   The figure stopped pounding at the pestle and mortar and looked up at the farmer. At first glance, she seemed to be a girl on the brink of adulthood but the fair skin and the startling blue eyes indicated her to be of an ethnicity that was different from her elders. In contrast, they were dark-skinned and much taller than she was. While their hair was wiry, coarse and thick, hers arranged itself in large cupid-like curls around her face and it appeared to be finer and smoother in texture. The cherubic face regarded Shaloub without hesitation. Gently, she placed the pestle against the side of the mortar.

   “I don’t wish to see your behind as much you do, Shaloub,” she replied. “Believe me… you may have been a strapping lady-killer in your youth, but right now, you’re lucky Keera hasn’t gone blind.”

   “Minshara, please…”

   The physician sighed. “Look, Shaloub, it will be for this time only. After that, your wife can do the honors. I have to teach her how to apply the poultice.”

   “Please, dear… it will only be for a short while,” the old woman persuaded once more.

   Shaloub looked back at Min who looked back at him with the same serious expression. He sighed, closed his eyes and turned toward the chair.

   Keera smiled at Min, who returned it and proceeded to dispense her treatment.

   After a few uncomfortable minutes, Min walked to the wash basin as Shaloub proceeded to pull up his pants and muttered something about having to see the cows in the shed.

   “I’ve never quite seen anything like it,” Keera laughed.

   Min rubbed the smell of herbs away from her fingers, scrubbing at the skin with a piece of rag. “Well, it happens. Mainly to young people who don’t take care of their diets but it can happen to the rest of us.”

   “So I just apply the poultice once a day?”

   “Once a day, before bed. I’ve made some for you in advance. I know how hard it is to get good elderberry nowadays,” the young woman rummaged in her bag and produced a few packets. “One packet, two parts water. Apply for about an hour maybe two, if you can. The longer the better but no more than a day.”

   “But you’re removed this one after a few minutes,” Keera exclaimed.

   “I didn’t want to embarrass him further than I had to,” Min shrugged. “Besides, he has chores to do. So put the poultice on at night. I notice you have some yarrow and aloe vera nearby. Apply yarrow tea to ease the pain throughout the day. Don’t drink it. The pulp of aloe vera to soothe any burning sensation. And keep his diet full of vegetables and fruits – and tell him not to… push too hard when he goes to the outhouse. It should be all right in a month or so, if you stick to what I tell you.”

   Keera clasped her hands and looked relieved. “Thank you, Min. As promised, here are the moccasins I made from the last cow we slaughtered.”

   Min slipped off her worn slippers and pulled the wet shoes over her feet. They were comfortable and perhaps, if they stayed that way, she might just change her mind about footwear. “Thanks, Keera. I’ll come back next week to check on your husband… just to make sure things are all right.”

   “I don’t know just how we’ll cope without you. Those doctors from the West Side charge three times the value of my fields!”

   She began to make her way back to her cottage. Poliho might seem like an assimilated village, not far from the rest of Tarsis’ more famous residential areas but to Min, if one were to look closely, one could notice the sub-villages that used to make up the once separated Poliho. The old markers were still there, only more weather worn and dilapidated.

   Life in the village was not idyllic but it wasn’t terrible either. Frankly speaking, Min knew that there were worse places to end up than Tarsis. The bottom of the ocean, for example. The nightmares had been getting worse lately. On some nights, she could feel the breath forced out of her by the sheer power of the ebbing surf and the taste of the salt on her lips. And the migraines… Min likened the pain to having her head repeatedly bashed against driftwood – something that might have happened 7 years ago.

   She snapped herself out of her thoughts and unlatched the gate that lead up to her parents’ home. Already, she could smell the spiced fish casserole that her mother was preparing to serve.

   An elderly man, also dark-skinned like most of the locals but possessed so much more dignity, looked up at the sound. “Minshara?”

   “Yes, father… I’ve come for lunch as promised,” she replied, putting her bag by the door and helped her father put away his farming tools.

   “How was old Shaloub today?”

   “He’ll be fine in a month or two,” Min smiled, running fingers through her black hair, relieved to be free from the restraints of the scarf.

   “What exactly is he suffering from anyway?” Ikwame asked, opening to door.

   “You know I can’t tell you that.”

   Ikwame gave a large hearty laugh. “It’s still those darned hemorrhoids, isn’t it? The whole village knows. He’s had them since he married Keera. We all told him not to marry her… she’s a terrible cook. They’re fortunate you decided to stay here to practice.”

   “Ikwame, you stop that gossiping right now… It isn’t nice to talk about Keera like that. She’s our friend,” Safiya chided. She wiped her hands on her apron and kissed Min on the forehead. “You must have had a hard day.”

   “Nothing I can’t handle,” Min replied.

   Life in Poliho wasn’t going to make her great or famous but it was good. She had a loving family here and people who trusted her – most of the time anyway.

   “Come here and sit, Minshara… stop thinking and eat with us.”

********

   Minshara Kohl lived not far from her parents. In fact, the cottage that Ikwame and a few other villagers built was on the other side of the Kohl family’s dry fields. It was small with only a room that doubled as a study and a sleeping area and a designated kitchen. Three of the four walls were covered in shelves and lined with bound books and folios, arranged in alphabetical order; labeled vials and jars containing plant parts and essences. A small black cat with white fur covering its paws, uncurled itself from Min’s chair, stretched and yawned.

   “Hello, Socks…” Min stroked the cat and tickled it under its chin. “Bet you didn’t miss me much, did you?”

   Socks blinked before yawning once more and then, proceeded to claim the small bed on the other side of the room as her new sleeping spot.

   Min hung her bag and tried to ease her tired shoulders by rubbing and massaging them. At the corner of her eye, she saw something glinting as it caught the light of the metal lamp. She knew what it was and like so many other times, she had to look at it to make sure it was there.

   Out of her bag, she pulled out a small kaiken. When she washed up on Tarsis, she didn’t know what it was called. She had thought it was a normal dagger but it was so beautiful and so exquisite in its design and crafting that the seawater had not dealt it any damage. The handle and scabbard were well lacquered and covered in the pattern of willow-trees in spring and a pair of cranes in a mating dance. Attached by a weathered silken cord was a jade piece and a small useful brush for writing.

   Min listened to the soft swish as she drew the blade from its sheath. The blade was a bright, clean steel. It seemed to draw whatever light there was in the room and reflected it as if the moon itself had embedded itself in the weapon. The blood groove made it light and Min noted the perfect balance of weight. She had never used it for anything as trivial as pruning plants or preparing vegetables but she kept it with her always. She had used it once or twice but those instances were so long ago during the days when she used to beg at the Center.

   There was knock on the door. Min sheathed the weapon and went to the door. “Who is it?”

   “Return it to me.”

   “What?” Min opened the door.

   The stench of seawater assaulted her senses as a woman, dripping wet from head to toe, wearing a ruined silken garb stood at the door. Seaweed wove itself into the roots of her long matted hair. “Mine…” she whispered and lunged toward her.

   Min woke up with a start, her heart trying to get its rhythm back to normal. She found herself on her bed with a bemused Socks looked at her. “Damn it, Daidlin!” she cursed. “Just once… only once, a nice dream of myself having a normal day would be nice.”

   She released the tight clench of her fists and forced herself to breathe normally. Reaching for her waterskin, she took a few sips to wet her parched throat.

   Socks mewed and looked at the small powdered bags of Chamomile on the table.

   Min shook her head. “That’s not going to help,” she sighed and wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her nightshirt.

“So which one was it this time?” her father asked.

   Min thrust the hoe into the hard ground and waited a moment before continuing her work. “It was the woman again. The one with the long hair and seaweed and bits of marine life stuck to her…”

   The smooth brow furrowed, bringing together the thick white eyebrows. “These nightmares are starting to worry me,” Ikwame replied simply, plucking the weeds by the roots.

   “It’s nothing really,” she replied, loosening the soil. She dug the hoe deeper into the ground and pulled it back out with a vengeance. Dig, pull. Dig, pull. There was something satisfying in seeing bits of earth fly about. It didn’t do the situation much good but at least, it was cathartic.

   “Your mother and I have been talking about this for some time now… perhaps, it is time for you to… find out more,”

   The young woman placed a hand on her hip and wiped the sweat off her brow. All around her was Poliho, the only home that she had known for as far as she could remember. Granted, it wasn’t a long time but it was something. There was good in this place. All around her, people led simple lives.

   They were born, grew up, got married, had children and died here. Once in a while, a few of them left for the ‘lawfulness’ of Miriel but most stayed. Even now, she saw them tilling their fields, sowing the seeds for the next harvest. Mothers worked with newborns tied to their backs. Children carried farming tools as soon as they were able. Everyone helped out with one another.

   As far as Min could see, she didn’t need to know where she came from. She had thought about it once. Back when trying to find out where she came from was important. She stared long and hard at the rags she wore. They were silken rags, just like the woman in her dreams. Then, she would look at the kaiken.

    And the deep-seated feeling of dread would rise up like a tsunami and overwhelm any desire to return.

   There had to be a reason. Minshara just wasn’t sure what. Perhaps, it was best that she didn’t try to find out. She didn’t wish to anyway.

   If only her parents could see it her way.

   “I know you think your mother and I are being stubborn old people but we’ve earned it, don’t you think?” Ikwame responded to her nonchalance.

   “I mean no disrespect, father,” she replied, leaning against the hoe’s handle, “and I know you mean well but…”

   “You like it here too much?”

   “Yes,” she smiled. “I have a good thing going here. You, mother… and my craft. I can’t ask for anything more.”

   It became Ikwame’s turn to shrug. His large eyes looked over his dry fields, most of the ground, already loosened and ready for seeding.

   Min pondered for a moment, then spoke as if she remembered something. “By the way, do you want anything from the South Market today? I’m getting some supplies from Miriel.”

   “No, not really. I heard there’s some sort of disease spreading there.”

   “Some sort of epidemic, I think. No one’s been able to discern the cause. I’d love to study it…”

   “Why don’t you then? You haven’t left Poliho since you got here.”

   “Let me finish, father,” she smiled, then continued her sentence, “If I didn’t have to check on Shaloub. Besides, I have to travel by sea to get to Miriel and you know my wonderful history with large bodies of water. I’ll be satisfied with the accounts I get from the merchants.”

   “What do you think it is though?”

   She continued to dig at a slower pace, glad that the change in subject had eased the tension away. “Well, I heard that it makes the infected feral… some rumours say it could be lycanthrophy but I don’t think so. Lycanthrophy is very specific in nature, affecting the victim during the full moon for three nights. This one sounds a little like rabies, to be honest. I haven't heard anything unusual about the timing. But I really can’t say much. Not enough accurate information. Too many distorted rumours. I just hope it doesn’t get here.”

        "Less talk, more digging," her father suddenly urged. "I see your mother and it seems we have to hurry if you want to be in time for the wedding."

"Not all us can forget our roots as easily as you," Roko had joked once more before the party ended. Min flipped onto her back, disturbed at the well-intended chastisement.

"Are you afraid, daughter?"

"I am most certainly not," Min angrily responded, a little more cutting than expected. A life so mundane is not worth study, not worth living – the words reverberated in her head like the tolling of bell whose deep haunting chimes continued well after its servants had stopped ringing it.

She laid flat on her back, her fingers caressing the soft spot underneath Sock’s neck. The fingertips scratched lightly at the fur, playing with the flesh that lay between the cartilage and bone. The cat merely purred contently, nipping playfully from time to time at his mistress’s hand.

The cottage was made of mud bricks and sticks. The roof that hung over the main sleeping area and kitchen was thatch but the porch roof was a flat one, made out of strong branches whose bark was now rain-smoothened over the years. The construction was odd, of course. No one saw the need for a flat roof that allowed water to seep through the cracks but Minshara saw differently.

The stars of Poliho were beautiful at night. She was probably the only villager that liked to spend her time staring at them. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t get to sleep. The roof was comfortable enough for her to lie flat down against the wood, wrapped up in a warm cotton blanket to look up at the constellations.

"You don’t want me to leave, right?"she whispered to Socks, suddenly realizing how deafening the silence was.

The cat didn’t answer of course. It merely looked at her with its large green eyes and rubbed itself against the wood to ease the invisible scratch.

The little discussion her mother had with her had left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had not intended to snap at Safiya but there were some things that made her uncomfortable and she had thought her mother better when it came to realising what those things were.

The people of Poliho were so provincial. Most of her children grow up listening to tales of faraway places like Anfalas or the nearby port city of Miriel. Of course, during the past few years, some had returned with stories about a very strange and foreign place – its ways and traditions kept secret to outsiders upon pain of death. Or so it seemed.

Because how does one hear of the ways of Nijon if they were indeed that bloody sacred?

Nevertheless, the locals loved a good tale. A small kingdom ruled by clans, nestled deep in the Southlands? Where buildings were constructed without a nail in sight? Gold-lining on the tiled roofs? Silk robes on all its citizens? And what was this strange code that they all lived by and why was the Emperor so sensitive to everything that he needed to execute a lot of people?

Min sighed. Socks had taken to sleeping upon her midsection, curled up into a small ball of black and white fur. Min stretched her shoulders fractionally, trying in vain to keep the cat asleep. Socks merely opened his eyes to give her look of reproachfulness before changing his position to lie belly up and returning to sleep.

She had tried to figure it all out, so many years ago. There were no Nijonese to speak to. Only people who had travelled there didn't see much beyond the ports and no one knew anything for sure. Naturally, she was never short of ‘reliable sources’ eager to inform her because here it was, for the first time ever… a native of Nijon living and breathing in what had to be the cesspool of everything mundane and normal. Minshara Kohl was a novelty whose popularity waxed and waned like the ebbing tides.

It only added to her ‘Gaijin-ness’ that she had little recollection of her past. It was all so cliched, she laughed bitterly to herself about it.

Yet, Safiya had been right. Min was frightened. Terrified, in fact. The fear clawed at her like a harpy, waiting at the edge of her dreams just after she relinquished her consciousness. The words on her wrist screamed their meanings to her. The ink once dark blue, was now faded and Minshara felt that she had somehow betrayed the significance.

Still, those were only psychological games her mind played with itself. They weren’t enough to deter her from finding out. Contrary to popular belief, Min knew a lot about Nijon… more than her friends and family gave her credit for. She knew of the social structures, the xenophobia that drove the self-imposed isolation and the all-important metaphorical symbols. Nijonese were fond of imagery.

She had learned all of this from a brothel madam, a self-styled woman who had given herself the name of Madam Papilonn. Min remembered her as a graceful but domineering individual who had almost convinced her into the life of a courtesan, had the madam decided at the very last moment to have nothing to do with her. The madam was well-travelled and educated, much more culturally savvy than the rest of the brothel owners who had only travelled as far as Miriel. Madam Papilonn left Narim at a very young age and ended up in Tarsis when she was well into her thirties.

Madam Papilonn also happened to be the only other person who had seen the kaiken. In a moment of what Min had thought to be misplaced trust, she had shown the weapon to her. Min remembered the shocked expression as if it happened moments ago. Like a true courtesan, it was no blatant outburst. It was a merely tremble of her hand and a slight raise of the eyebrows. A small ‘oh’ was all Min heard but all those were enough clues to tell her what the madam felt.

"This belongs to you," the madam had whispered as she handed it back.

"It was found on me," Min replied haltingly.

"It was not a question, child," the madam sighed as she waved for her servant to ready her carriage. “I was stating a fact.”

“What do you mean? How do you know?”

"This was a wedding present. See the cranes and the willow tree? Longevity and fidelity. And the cherry blossom usually symbolises the transient nature of things but since it is connected to this weapon, we can safely assume that it means to symbolise a ‘transient’ moment – perhaps childhood?"Madam Papilonn explained slowly. “Only bushis have weapons of this quality. You were one of them, that much I now  know.”

“How do you know I am bushi?”

“Either that, or you are a servant or thief.”

“Perhaps a servant,” Minshara answered softly, keeping the weapon back in the folds of her shirt. Her hands returned to their polite position on her lap.

The madam laughed, “Why a servant?”

Minshara did not reply. Her thoughts recalled the tattoo between her shoulder blades. “I have a pretty good hunch,” she said simply, agreeing with her instincts.

“Whatever it is,” Madam Papilonn replied, rising to her feet. “I would advise you to not return.”

“Why would I not want to go home?”

The madam’s servant knocked at the door, politely informing her that it was time to go.

Madam Papilonn returned her gaze back to the strange young woman. “My clients are from all over the known realms. You would be surprised at who sneaks in through the back entrance of my establishment,” she began slowly. “What do you know of disgraced bushi, Minshara?”

“They don’t exist?”

“They are often killed,” the courtesan answered coldly, with a steel that was unheard till that moment. “People are often quick to take advantage of those left outside a circle of protection. You are definitely bushi. I see it in your behaviour, your demeanor. You are no servant. I'm more open to the idea that you're a thief.”

Minshara could only look at her dumbly. “But I need to know,”

“Listen to me, girl. If you were bushi, as I know you are - I'm not a courtesan if I can't see patterns in how people carry themselves - in any circumstance, we should people looking for you night and day. So far, no one has. Why? Follow the logic.”

“If I were Heimin…”

“No one would bother with a lowly merchant or a Hinin entertainer,” Papilonn tritely cut in. “For whatever reason, you are better off dead for now.”

“You know more than you are telling me,” Minshara had not meant for the command to express itself in her tone.

“You dare command me, young mistress? Reason out why I cannot tell you,” the same steely voice answered. “I’ve dealt with enough courtiers for today.” The madam gave her one last look and softened her approach. “These are good people who have found you…remember that before you start asking the hows and whys of things..”

The sun had come up over the horizon, promising a new day for Tarsis. She had not bothered with her past and yet, Roko’s and Safiya’s words tortured her. Min had spent years unbothered by her past. She never wanted to know. Why did it bother her now? It was completely ridiculous.

Perhaps, it was simply the lack of patients or academic pursuits.

Perhaps, it was time to pay Madam Papilonn a long forgotten visit. If only to tell Safiya something new the next time she asks.

The cat pawed at his mistress and yawned. The green eyes looked at her most accusingly. Minshara sighed and pushed the cat off and climbed down to her front door. Liar, Socks seemed to communicate.

“All right, I’m going,” she sighed, “I’m going…”

Minshara watched as the servant girls carefully laid out the apparatus in front of her. The luxurious mahogany table was covered with a brocade tablecloth. Fast delicate hands arranged the jade-coloured cups and the earth-tinted spoons and brushes. Finally, the small teapots were placed in the middle of the table, seated like a little emperor and his queen.

   Papilonn wasn’t dressed her best but she was easily the loveliest person in the room. The brown hair was pulled upwards and tied into an intricate bun. One tastefully chosen hairpin held what must be, at least, waist length tresses. Her robes showed Nijon-influences, as did everything else in this room, Minshara noted. Perhaps her visit was not a surprise after all.

   She held out her hand, palm upwards, indicating that Min should start.

   “I’m sorry to disappoint you, madam,” Min declined without flinching. “I am unaware of the customs.”

   “Ah,” the courtesan replied. “You do not know?”

   “I said I am unaware. I might have learnt this previously or never took notice at all…” the physician countered, watching the courtesan scoop a small amount of tea leaves into the smaller teapot. Gently, she poured hot water from the larger one into it and just as briskly, poured it out.

   “That was to open the tea leaves a little and to get rid of any dust that might still be on them,” Papilonn explained, finally pouring the prepared tea into Minshara’s cup.

   This is a test to see how much you’ve remembered and to what extent. Min held out her hand, pulling back the sleeve to the elbow with her other hand as she did so. Graciously, she thanked the Madam and lifted the lid of the cup slightly and drank without showing her open mouth. She downed the tea in three sips and replaced it where it was. As Papilonn downed hers, Min snuck another piece of charcoal in the glowing embers. Her ears felt the slight vibration of the teapot, the water within now boiling hot instead of comfortably warm. She prayed that the courtesan missed it.

   “It seems that you still remember how to drink it,”

   Min only gave a wistful smile, “An action that must be ingrained into my muscles, most probably. Like many other things.”

   “Perhaps, Miss Kohl,” Papilonn purred, finishing her tea and indicating for Min to serve the next cup. “But I am more interested in what brings you here? After all, I have only seen you once before and that was so many years ago.”

   “I plan to return to Nijon,” came the startling reply as she handed to cup over. The combination of the heat and the shock caused Papilonn a momentary lapse in concentration, the jade green cup fell to the carpeted dais.

   Hurriedly, one of the two servant girls cleared the mess while the other replaced it with a clean cup. Delicately, Min poured her a fresh cup. “My apologies,” she offered. “I must have allowed the water to steep longer than I ought to.”

   “It’s no matter,” the courtesan replied, taking up the cup with her other hand. The fingertips of Papilonn’s right hand were red from the scalding.

   “Things left too long unattended have a habit to making themselves known,” Minshara replied. “You should let me take a look at that. I have some aloe that will help soothe the skin.”

   Papilonn smiled at the disguised chiding. She held out her hand. Min took a quick look at the finely manicured hand and proceeded to place small amounts to the affected areas. The balm was quickly absorbed by the blistered skin.

   “You were saying how you intened to return to Nijon?”

   “Aye,” Min said as she placed Papilonn’s hand on the table. The courtesan withdrew within the folds of her gown. “My parents think it best that I try to find out more.”

   “Why now? Surely this endeavor would have been more successful if it was done years ago. You might no longer be remembered now.”

   “If I was bushi, I’m sure my clan would remember me. The records of my birth and presumed death would still be available,” Min dodged the former question.

   “That is true.”

   “I cannot go into Nijon without any prior information on who I might be. I was hoping that you might be able to help me.”

   Madam Papilonn sighed. “I had warned you against it. Have you forgotten?”

   “On the contrary, that’s why I returned to you. You must have your reasons,”

   “And they are good reasons. But answer me first, why is it so important?” the concern in her voice betrayed her. Papilonn knew it full well but had decided to show at least one of her cards.

   “I’ve always wanted to know but you frightened me into the opposite,” Min replied looking out into the street. “Living with the fear of the unknown is something I cannot do anymore. The fear chases me in the night. It haunts me in the only respite any person should have – sleep. I have nightmares that would cause you to tremble even when you are awake, Madam Papilonn.”

   “Surely you know of the herbs that would ease your sleep?”

   “Trade being a coward for being a deluded addict? I don’t think so,” Min poured herself another cup, this time not bothering with the ritual. “Let us dispense with the courtesies, Madam Papilonn. I want to hear what you have to tell me.”

   “Many dignitaries visit my establishment when they are journeying towards and from Miriel by sea,” Papilonn began her tale. “A few months after you washed up on Tarsis, I received a very rare guest.”

   “Who was he?”

   “He was a nobleman of Nijon, that is all I know. He was very dignified for a young man, handsome and very exotic-looking. But so very young and his inexperience almost cost him his purse and all his valuables when he walked into my bordello so obvious in his naivety.”

   Min relaxed her posture and listened carefully.

   “Anyway, the girls were all over him, laughing at his strange accent and his odd questions. But he bore the teasing very well, like he was taught to endure certain things. I managed to get him away. It was tough at first to get either one of us to understand what the other was saying but we managed to figure out some basic things. He told me he was looking for someone – a woman of your description. She was very important to him.”

   Min’s mind immediately went to the kaiken.

   “I know what you’re thinking,” Papilonn echoed. “I think it was him. He told me that you were fleeing a great danger and that he had followed you secretly in the hopes of reuniting with you.”

   The physician closed her eyes and exhaled a long held breath.

   “He was so earnest that I couldn’t help but try to find out,” Papilonn went on, sipping her tea. “Its not often that a courtesan comes across such a cliched yet genuine experience. I asked around and heard of you. We visited you, in fact.”

   “What? When?”

   “He waited in my carriage as I talked to you in the cottage. He was visibly relieved to know that you were still alive. I honestly thought that he would come to you but strangely, he decided to return to Nijon with the news that you were gone.”

   “But why?”

   “He never said. And I’ve never heard a word from him since. Every once in a while, a Nijon captain will arrive with something precious from his homeland for me. He would give it to me together with an empty scrollbox. At first, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it. Then, I realised that I was to write him of you.”

   “And did you?”

   “I wrote a few details at first but soon, a letter arrived asking me that I should only state the necessities like if you were alive and well, for example. Details were to be left out. Too dangerous, I assumed.”

   “I must get to Nijon,” Min breathed.

   “You mustn’t,” Papilonn snapped. “He has repeatedly said that you are to remain here for your own safety.”

   Minshara looked at her straight in the eye. “What’s in it for you?”

   “Excuse me?”

   “Well, you seem rather adamant that I should stay and I don’t think there’s anything in this for you,”

   “You are a skeptical one, aren’t you?” Madam Papilonn smiled.

   “I believe in the goodness of people’s hearts…” Min replied, “But I do know that some are willing to trade that for its weight in gold.”

   “Not everything in this bordello is for sale,”

   “Of course not. I mean no insult, madam. But most things are. It’s a little difficult to see.”

   “Let’s just say that I’ve only told you his side of the story and my side of the bargain,” the madam finished, with a flourish of her robes as she stood up.

   “Fair enough,” Minshara got to her feet. “I must take my leave, Madam. Thank you for having me.”

   “I shan’t see you out,” Papilonn bowed courteously.

   “You needn’t have. By the way, the skin should blister before it heals properly. I’ll send over some move balm in the morning.”

   “Thank you,”

   Minshara walked out of the bordello, glad to be rid of its luxurious environment. The night sky of Poliho was lovely and clear again tonight. She yawned as she turned the corner. A small donkey drawn cart passed by her. Hitching a ride with the owner, she soon fell asleep on the hay – a sweet dreamless sleep, courtesy of Daidlin.

********

   Back at the bordello, Papilonn looked at her neatly written letter. Carefully, she rolled it up and placed it into the empty scrollbox. Securing it, she made her way to one of the guest rooms.

   A Nijon captain was having the time of his life with a few of her girls. Upon seeing the arrival of the madam, he promptly excused himself.

   “Madam Papilonn,” he greeted. He was not expecting to see her till the morning. “Is anything the matter?”

   Papilonn placed the scrollbox into his hand. “I need you to return to Nijon immediately. Your master must be informed as soon as possible.” She pressed the object into his palms to make her point. “Please, captain. Your master’s honour depends on this.”

   The captain nodded. Turning to crewmembers who were with him, he barked out some orders in Nijonese. In a few minutes, they had left the bordello.

   And so were the shadows that were lingering outside the windows of the tearoom.

The tension and fear had lifted for a moment when Myrnal walked down her mark's front pathway with him. His wife had answered the door, jealousy flashing in her eyes when she saw her husband coming home with a younger woman. It had been difficult for Myrnal not to laugh at first at the sheer absurdity of that, until it dawned on her what was wrong with this picture. The man's wife was human and apparently quite pregnant. The children peeking through the doorway were of no less than three unique races. Adopted? All of them?

Myrnal gaped with her mouth open. "Oh, f$%# this. This is such bull$#&^." The woman reached down to the child at her side and covered his ears.

"Esau? What's going on? Who is this woman?"

Myrnal threw her hands in the air in frustration. "Screw it. It doesn't matter. Fine. You win, jackass. With your pregnant wife and your pack of adopted kids. Fine. But you need to take your pile of sympathy s#&^ and get out of here. I'll cancel my job, but someone else is going to come after me."

Esau sighed. "Look, Zel, she--"

His wife interrupted him. "She was hired to hunt you? You little--"

"Woman!" Myrnal interjected. "Are you f$%#ing deaf? Are you retarded or something?" Zel covered her child's ears again. "Unless you want a pile of bloodthirsty scumbags like me after you and probably everyone else here, you need to leave. Yelling at me is not going to help!"

Myrnal pulled her coat around her, already feeling the chill of the evening sink beneath her collar even in this dive of a bar. There wasn't really anyplace for them to go but Tarsis. Once she'd cancelled her obligations to her employer, she retrieved the whole silly enormous family. Apologetic, his wife had asked that Myrnal join them.

"Please, I'm so sorry for how I acted. But I don't know how we're going to escape notice on our own. I have to take care of the children and Esau can't do everything."

"I'm not your damned babysitter, and I'm not your hired arm. I just suggested you get your stubborn asses out of this town."

Zel had frowned. "If that's what you need, then fine. We have a little bit of money." One of her adoptive sons, a boy at least part-elf, ran to grab her purse. "Thanks, Aaron." She simply took the coinpurse and held it out to Myrnal.

The ninja snatched it out of her hand and counted out enough to pay for a few days' lodging and food. She'd tossed the remainder back to the little boy, rolling her eyes. "You people really drive me nuts, you know that? Come on. You'll miss the last ship."

Last ship indeed, she thought as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her ankle-length black coat. And now I can't get back.

Stuck in Tarsis thanks to the quarantine on Míriel's docks. On the one hand, there was no shortage of taverns here, so she felt on somewhat even ground. Surely there'd be plenty of jobs in a place like this. Debtors to rough up, gang warfare to meddle in, travellers to protect. If that were the case, though, she'd better find something soon.

You try to do something good every once in a while, and this is what happens. Bites you in the ass. Way to go, Myrnal. Another job well f$%#ing done.