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This is a story I wrote for Zsisron's hypnosis story contest over on FA.

Dariat, a young bird living in a town of mammals, is excited to hear that the famous Avian Circus will be passing through on its way across the Plains. The Circus is famous for its attractions, which are all centered around birds. But when he goes, things take a strange turn, and people and events he once thought benign turn out to be anything but.

As always, I encourage and appreciate criticism. Also cookies. I love cookies.

Avian Circus

By Neal Brake

Start from the beginning.

*

The main tent sat on the apex of the hill, colors falling down the sides like water down the face of a cliff, the whole thing a stone dropped into the middle of a pond that generated shimmering colored ripples.

*

No, the beginning. As in, the part where shit begins.

*

Dariat had heard of the Avian Circus, of course, mostly because who hadn't? That simple, illogical, ineffable, and near-infallible reasoning was responsible for ninety-nine percent of the rumors and hearsay that spread like wildfire through the town's youth, reaching critical mass before anyone with any real information had a chance to give input. Ketton was, as a town, an ideal place for rumors. It had been built at the base of a cliff that supported an inhospitable plateau dappled with poisonous vegetation and animals, and was bordered on two of its remaining sides by a river that provided most of its food. The river ensured that the land immediately surrounding it was fertile, but the cliff jutted out towards the top, which resulted in the small area between the cliff and the water being almost permanently ensconced in shadow; thus, the only farmable land was on the other side of the river, away from the cliff face. Those who had built the town centuries ago had recognized this location as not only extremely defensible from its enemies, but ideal for growing. So the area between the cliff and the river had been given over to structures of wood, and growing population that demanded more living space had pushed the founders to dig into the cliff itself, creating a warren of halls and scoops that became home for hundreds of families. With so many families living so close together, information and rumors spread with impossible swiftness.

So when rumors that a circus comprised entirely of avians had reached Ketton in Dariat's sixth year, he had learned of it immediately. Of course, given his unenviable position as one of the only avians among a host of mammals, he had taken it upon himself to learn all he could of this strange and wonderful thing. No passing caravan or wandering traveler was safe from his probing questions, and over time he built up an idea that, while not comprehensive, both satisfied and whetted his curiosity, pushing him to learn even more.

Naturally, when the Circus announced its traveling path would take it right through Ketton, everybody knew within a day; also naturally, Dariat was the first one to know.

The source of the rumor was almost as fantastic as the rumor itself. A traveler wearing a simple brown robe had passed through the town. This was not an abnormal event by any means, simple travelers wearing simple clothes passed through on a daily basis. It was his species, not his occupation, that made this traveler so unique and, ultimately, believable. He had stopped by Dariat's family's market stall, apparently interested in the shiny baubles made from the useless parts of the fish and animals they hunted. Dariat had welcomed him automatically, without looking up from his workbench where he was busy shaping a small rodent's pelvis into a holder for a gem. "Welcome. How can I help you?"

"What's that you're making?"

The timbre of the stranger's voice brought Dariat's neck snapping up. Standing before him was, unmistakably, a dragon. Though he had never seen one before, Dariat was positive this person must be one. A sharp reptilian snout jutted out beneath icy blue eyes. The scales on his face were green, but in a shifty way that confused Dariat's eyes into thinking he was seeing every color of the rainbow contained in each one, though when he tried to focus all he caught was the color of the shady side of a leaf. A gold coyote sat in his right ear, clutching a red ruby in its jaws. Beneath the simple traveler's attire Dariat glimpsed a green tail slithering behind wrapped feet with sharp claws. The dragon had his hands in his sleeves like a monk, though Dariat was sure there would be wicked claws on them, too.

"Um. It's going to be a necklace," he said. "I think."

"You think?" The dragon sounded amused. "Why don't you know yet? You are making it, after all. One would think the artist would know the desired result of his work before he began. 'Know the sculpture ere you chip,' or so they say, anyway."

Dariat was mesmerized by the dragon's voice. It was not the deepest he had heard, but it had a resonance that sank into his bones and shook them without being invasive, that spoke volumes of secrets gleaned over millennia. He stopped himself staring. "Um. I suppose."

The dragon chuckled. "You do, do you?" He withdrew a (clawed) hand from the sleeve. "May I see it?"

"Sure." He handed the bone to the dragon, who took it with almost reverential care and twisted it to examine it from every angle. "Hey, I don't mean to be rude, sir, but...are you a dragon?"

"Yes." Simply.

"Wow." Dariat meant that. He had heard stories of dragons, but they were strangers from a strange land, foreigners when they deigned to show up at all. Stories said they were bearers of a terrible magic that could level cities and control the weather, and that looking one in the eye was death. Hyperbole, Dariat supposed now, having looked one in the eye and survived. "May I ask what brings you here?"

"I am simply traveling from one place to another, and this town lies between me and my intended destination." He scratched lightly at the inset with a claw. "I assume from the sheer number of stalls here that such is not an uncommon occurrence."

"Not the traveling part, no. But the dragon part, a little." Dariat grinned in embarrassment when the dragon looked up. "Sorry, but I've never seen a dragon before. I bet nobody here has, for that matter."

"That is not terribly surprising. I am not aware of another of us who has traveled this way before now."

By this point, the dragon had attracted a crowd of onlookers. Most were attempting to be unobtrusive, shooting glances from within their stalls or pretending to examine merchandise that was conveniently located between themselves and the reptile. Then there were those who were simply staring openly, mouths all but agape. Dariat tried to ignore them and hoped the dragon wouldn't notice how rude everyone was being.

"You have beautiful feathers," the dragon said suddenly.

Dariat blushed, taken aback. He had been complemented on his plumage before, he took pains to keep up his appearance. The natural red that covered the majority of his body was routinely touched up with a thin blue coat that was almost invisible, but that added a certain sheen visible when seen out of the corner of the eye. The feathers on his front were white, and those he simply kept as clean as he could. The white feathers ran along the bottom half of his face, so he knew the dragon could see the effect his comment was having. As if it wasn't uncomfortable enough, the dragon smiled at the reaction. An analytical part of Dariat's brain noticed how he kept his lips pulled over his teeth as he did so, probably to make it less scary, he thought.

"I....Thank you," Dariat said lamely.

"I see you take great pride in your appearance. This is nothing to be ashamed of, I think. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Dariat."

"Mine is Sindo, Dariat. I am pleased to meet you."

"Likewise."

"I once was lucky enough to happen upon a circus whose principle acts all centered around birds. Birds of all kinds, in fact. And the main act was...well, magnificent. Birds of every type and color, the most beautiful I had ever seen." His eyes sparkled. "I think you might just outshine them."

Blood kept rising. "Ah. Um."

"I am almost positive the circus is coming this way. It's a great train of wagons, dozens of them, you can't really miss it. How much would you like for this?" Sindo gestured to the piece on which Dariat had been working.

"T-that? But it's not finished yet." He was thrown by the question, but nonetheless somewhat grateful to have the subject be something other than himself. He liked what he was hearing, but he had no idea how to respond to it, and it was making him feel awkward.

"Hm." The dragon seemed to consider this, then set the pelvis carefully on the counter. "Very well. But I think you should know that it looks beautiful to me as it is."

"T-thank you." Dariat found an interesting pebble on the ground and studied it, hoping his cheeks weren't turning any redder and knowing they were. "Can I ask, why are you traveling?"

"You already did. But I don't mind telling you more. I am traveling because my chosen profession requires that I do not remain in any one place for too long." Off Dariat's inquiring look he smiled and said, "I am a purveyor of memories."

"Memories?" Dariat asked. "What do you mean?"

"Unique memories are prized by some. I collect them and redistribute them as they are demanded. Naturally I cannot continuously gather memories from a single place for too long. Part of the appeal of memories is the novelty of the unknown, and sufficient variety is impossible if every memory is drawn from the same locale."

Dariat had never heard of a memory merchant before. He was fascinated by the idea that anyone could actually sell someone else's memories. It seemed too fantastical to be real-but then, he was talking to a dragon, a creature that until now he had considered more myth than real. "How do you get them?"

"The memories? Magic, of course," Sindo said, smiling. Dariat was finding that smile enchanting, and something about it and the way the dragon's eyes locked onto his made him want to shiver and gave rise to his adolescent blood. It was with a start he realized what was happening, and it made him feel even more foolish to know that some stranger reptile of indeterminate age was affecting him like this. He was sure he was almost completely red by now.

"That's...amazing," he said, and meant it. "Can, uh, could you show me how? You do it, I mean? The memory thing. I'm sorry." He brought a hand to his beak in a casual way, trying (and failing) to downplay his mortification. "I'm prying, I apologize."

"Not at all. And I would be happy to show you." Dariat's heart actually skipped. "Unfortunately, it requires a great deal of effort and time, and I have been greatly wearied by my travels. The road is no easy path, I'm sure you can guess." He winked knowingly.

"I, yeah, I can imagine. I mean, not really, I've spent my whole life here, so I guess I can't really know. But I'm sure it's harder than all this."

Sindo laughed. "I've worked myself up a fine appetite. Would you happen to know where I could get some decent, filling foodstuffs, for tonight and the road?" He looked almost expectant.

Dariat didn't know what to say. The dragon's gaze was at once inviting and intimidating. "I, uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Feton makes probably the best gumbo here, he's just down the market median. And if you're interested in fishstuffs just about every stall's got some, but I'd go with Miss Faye, but she's down the other way, and she's the kind who she's going to ask for more that they're worth but don't let her take for you're a ride cuz I mean it's fish, right, and we're right by the river, and they're not worth that much anyway, especially if she gives you...."

Sindo smiled as Dariat rattled on about the best places to find food and drink, a corner of that smile curling just a bit higher than was warranted by the sight of the flustered youth. Dariat, he thought, committing the name to memory. His red plumage, by no means unheard of, was nonetheless obviously well cared for, considering the dirt cliff where he lived. He was exceptionally good-looking, as well. He'd do nicely.

Though he probably wouldn't have noticed the small quirk of the smile anyway, Dariat didn't give himself the chance. As he spoke he was looking at everything but Sindo, who bore it all smiling stoically. When he had finished hurriedly detailing how exactly to haggle down the price of a room at one of the cliff's inns ("Panter's always fascinated by exotic species, so he'll probably pay you if you let him") the dragon interrupted with, "I'll be sure to have a look."

"What? Ah, right." Dariat quieted quickly, suddenly aware he had been babbling. "Right. Sorry."

"Don't worry, Dariat. I find your company delightful."

"Oh! Thank you, uh, Sindo. I...same thing." This was ridiculous. When exactly did he lose the ability to speak?

"Here." The dragon reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew a simple gold chain, which he handed to Dariat. "You should wear this."

"T-thank you. Oh, thank you very much!" Dariat immediately clasped the chain around his neck. The dragon laughed delightedly.

"Thank you for your help, Dariat. I'm going to go take your advice now. I hope we'll meet up again before I leave, yes?"

"I hope so, too."

Sindo didn't move, just kept looking at Dariat. The red bird shuffled his feet, trying hard not to look at them. Why couldn't he say anything useful to the situation?

Sindo tried not to sigh. Soon enough, he thought. "I'll see you soon, Dariat." He turned and left the befuddled robin staring after him. He could feel the avian's gaze on his cloak and smiled to himself. The poor boy was infatuated with him, and he hadn't even had to use his charm too much. A little, maybe, but it never hurt to be sure. He was almost surprised the boy wasn't rushing after him.

Dariat watched the dragon go and felt a peculiar tugging in his chest, as though something was compelling him to follow. It took an effort of will to stay where he was.

A real live dragon! Imagine that.

*

What else?

What do you mean?

What do you mean what do I mean? 'What else' generally only has a handful of meanings, only one of which is applicable in this situation. So, what else?

I-I don't know what you're asking me.

I'm asking you, mush-for-brains, what else happened that night. After the shiny dragon left, did anything else of importance happen that night?

I masturbated. I was thinking of him when I did it. He's really pretty.

That's what you come up with? When you think of 'important,' that's what comes to mind? Well, I guess that is a powerful charm, even half-cocked. Very well, did anything else of import occur?

Nu uh.

Okay, then. Let's move on.

He left the next day. It was sad.

I bet. What happened next?

*

The Avian Circus arrived the next evening, well after the dragon had departed. He had come and gone without as much of a fuss as Dariat would have expected, given the rarity of his species. But Kettoners had learned, over many years of accepting visitors, that those who traveled the road rather enjoyed their privacy-usually part of the reason they were travelers in the first place. So while they may have stared, social more kept them from approaching him except to offer a deal or haggle on an item. Never to engage in idle conversation or personal talk. Dariat wished he would have stayed...but then, after much disappointed reflection, he conceded that part of Sindo's allure was the mysticism one accrued naturally simply by being a wanderer, and justified it to himself that way.

Dariat spent that day as the rather modest center of attention. Both his unique heritage and quality of self-grooming worked together to set him slightly apart, and even in the closed confines of the town there was enough mental space for someone to feel isolated. Still, as one of the only townsfolk who'd had a prolonged interaction with the dragon, and the only youth, he found himself accosted all day about the encounter. He related it as truthfully as he was able, though he did embellish certain personal details. Like how he was beginning to think of the grin as beautiful. He kept that to himself. Other than that he told of his experiences faithfully. By noon he had told it enough times that he was no longer the only one consulted; by late afternoon, he had returned to his quasi-ostracized state.

The Circus appeared just before the sun set under the hill to the west.

The first thing anybody saw was the lead wagon, a simple white affair drawn by two wild gryphons with harnesses around their torsos. The driver was a wolf in what appeared to be a simple leather jerkin. He reigned the avians in and looked over the town, then turned round and made some signal. Immediately another wagon appeared, this one drawn by four of the great winged beasts, followed by another, and another. A whole line of the things appeared and encircled the hill at its base. As they settled, the lead wagon trundled down towards the bridge. It stopped just on the other side, its driver hopping down and leaving it unattended, apparently unconcerned as he walked over the bridge. Two of the town elders approached him. Already forewarned of the arrival (thanks to the gossip), they welcomed the visitor with some hushed words. The driver bowed low and returned to his wagon, which retreated to join the rest up on the hill.

This was the first time Dariat had ever seen a circus, and he was amazed by the speed with which the workers assembled the various structures. After the wolf returned to his wagon an entire contingent of them spilled out of the back. They immediately set about withdrawing items from other tents and sticking them into the ground. Poles with ribbon-like strings unfurling from the top ends were the first to go up, pushed up by two or three wolves while others pulled on the ribbons. The lines were secured with pegs driven deep into the ground. Simultaneously came the small tents, simple affairs that only needed a couple of the wolf workers each. Other wolves (they must have come from other wagons, though Dariat hadn't seen which) set up a temporary wood fence supported by what looked like heavy concrete blocks on the base of the poles.

It was a flurry of activity that was impossible to follow in its entirety. The townsfolk were all as captivated as Dariat, their chores mostly forgotten as they gazed at what looked like a small city being assembled with mechanical precision.

A whole host of the wolves were busy with a massive structure that covered the top of the hill. Small teams dug moderate poles into the ground in a rough circle while a large team worked on a huge one in the center. It towered over all the others, a wooden monolith scratching at the sky. Dariat wondered where exactly it had come from; none of the wagons he saw looked even remotely big enough to carry it.

Once the center pole was secure, a single wolf shimmied up it. He looked like a wild squirrel crawling up a tree trunk, only slower. There was something on his back, but it was not clear from this distance. When he reached the top he fiddled with something, then took the bow from his back. The wolf notched an arrow and, squatting low, fired. The arrow streaked through the air, dragging a line behind it, and thunked audibly into one of the smaller wood poles. A wolf on the ground immediately set about retrieving the arrow and securing the line to the pole. The wolf in the middle shot an arrow at every other supporting pole, and missed none. When the lines were all secure, he shouldered the arrow and sat down, feet dangling off the edge.

The wolves around the outer poles were busy. At each one they congregated around the base, working over something. Then a wolf climbed up the pole and tested the line connecting it to the one in the center. Apparently satisfied, he stood atop the pole and stepped onto it. Dariat watched, not quite believing what he saw, as sixteen wolves walked upright along the inclining lines. Each one dragged what looked like a large snake behind them, except it couldn't have been alive because the thickness never changed and they were at least as long as the lines themselves. When they reached the top they handed them to the wolf in the center, who got busy connecting them in some way. Their burden lifted, the ancillary wolves slid back down the lines. More wolves were busy underneath the wires, some with ladders, others with strange pieces of equipment that took four to lift. The center wolf raised his bow and fired several shots down, seemingly at random, and all trailing more wires. Wolves were walking along every wire now, sometimes in both directions at once, in which case one would flip under and scuttle along the underside until the other had passed. Half a dozen climbed up the center, trailing long pieces of fabric like bizarre capes. The whole thing put Dariat in mind of a mixture between a spider's web and an anthill. The only things that seemed at all out of place were the gryphons, but they obviously didn't mind. Those not pulling heavy equipment had settled down in the grass to rest.

Once the wolves with the fabric reached the top they sprinted down the wires, still trailing the fabric. With inhuman deftness the center wolf secured the pieces to the pole before the fabric ran out. It was secured at the ancillary poles as well, and the general shell of the tent was realized. More fabric was run up and out. Blue and white and gold shapes were embroidered on every piece, though the shapes were impossible to make out in the waning light. Dariat looked up. The moon had risen already, starkly defiant of the sun's last orange light. Stars were peeking over the eastern horizon.

The fabric up and secured, the center wolf trundled down the roof, and the other wolves followed suit. Soon the anthill activity ceased and all the wolves disappeared inside the tent. Though work was obviously being done inside, none of the townsfolk could make out any details. Dariat looked around at the other structures, all shiny but not as impressive as the behemoth in the middle.

The sun gave up and finally set, red orange light flaring briefly behind the huge structure before it was gone for good.

Dinner in the warren was a social affair, taken almost exclusively in the dining hall that occupied a large hollow cave behind most of the living quarters. Tables and benches ran its length, and width, and were supplemented by open spaces for individual families or family groups to eat on the ground if they chose. Normally, a family would fix their meal in their homes, and then bring the meal to the dining hall, where they would eat amongst family and friends. Such a mélange was ideal for promoting strong ties between family and neighbors, and even the bonds within the families themselves. Cooks also worked all day preparing food for the meals under the supervision of the head chef, for those families that chose not to fix their own. The dining hall was also ideal for gossip. And tonight, only one item was on everybody's mind.

Dariat sat on the ground with his parents and his closest friend, Sung, a ferret. His parents almost always chose the ground, something Dariat found just a little ironic seeing as their adopted son was a bird, but he didn't mind. It actually allowed more freedom than the benches, and because it was not limited to two dimensions allowed for a much more social atmosphere. Individuals and families routinely approached from odd direction to say hello or offer their company.

His parents (both cacomistles) were both munching on honey scones, still warm. Dariat nibbled on one while Sung took a swig of the spiced cider he had brought (it was common courtesy to bring your own food when visiting another family for meals, though it was just as common that they would share theirs with you). Talk of the circus whirled around them.

"It is weird, though, innit?" Sung was saying around the bottle.

"What is?" The image of the circus being assembled had been stuck in Dariat's head through all of dinner so far.

"The timing. I mean, yesterday we got a dragon coming through here, and today, a circus. And not just a circus, but the circus. I mean God, we all know this is one of the big ones. And it's coming through Ketton! And they're doing a show! What are the odds?"

"I don't even know." Dariat broke the scone open and let the honey smell seep into his nostrils.

"Not big, I know that much." Sung took a scone from the basket. "I've heard they're heading across the plains to Makod. Can you believe it? Imagine bringing a traveling circus of flying birds to a land populated entirely by blind vagabonds. I mean what's the point of that, then? They all just going to listen real hard? 'Oh, listen, I think I heard one.' 'Where?' 'Up, somewhere.' Dariat, what's eating you?"

"Nothing. What do you mean?"

"You've not been listening to me, I can tell."

"Yes I have."

"No you haven't."

Dariat sighed. Truthfully, Sung's implications about blind snakes interested him very little. The circus occupied his mind like a thin layer of paint failing to obscure the portrait of the wandering dragon behind it. "They say the Makoden are psychic, anyway, so maybe they don't need eyes."

"Come off it. They're not. That's just a silly rumor. Probably started by some bloke what got bit by a snake and wanted everybody to be as scared as he was."

"How does making them psychic make them scary?"

"They can sense you coming, can't they? Can't sneak around them if they can see the future."

Dariat snorted a laugh. "Fine. Either way, it's a moot point. Snakes or no they're here now. Wonder what it'll be like."

"I've heard they'll be finished by the morning, and we'll be able to see then. Did you see all those things they're putting up?"

"And the size of that big one. What do you suppose they keep in there, a feral dragon?"

"Nah, wouldn't fit around that big pole." Sung chewed thoughtfully. "I've honestly no idea. But I guess we'll find out tomorrow, yeah?"

"I wonder how they're going to handle admission."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do we need to trade to get in? They take gold, or food, or what?"

"You are coming, right?"

Dariat grinned. "Wouldn't miss it."

As it happened, the circus ended up not charging anything for admission. When Dariat and Sung and their parents reached the hill the next day, the wolf at the gate in the temporary fence waved them through with a friendly grin. Dariat's father tried to enquire politely about a price, but the wolf assured them that no compensation was needed-

*

I don't understand that part?

What part? And why are you talking again?

I'm sorry. I don't understand why they let us in without asking for payment. It is weird, you have to admit. Even for a traveling circus.

No, I don't.

But-

Holy fuck. Is this really such a thorn? If you must know, a price was negotiated, but it was done quietly because that's how everyone wanted it. Well, everyone in the Circus, anyway.

What was it?

The good kitchen folk of Ketton let the workers into the food hall after everyone else had left. They ate and grabbed some food for the acrobats and left, and nobody was the wiser. It was easier on everybody that way, and the wolves are really much more shy than you'd think, aren't they?

Oh! I'd heard they had been there, but-

Yes, that's lovely. Now shut the fuck up and tell me what happened next. And don't talk anymore.

*

Dariat's father tried to enquire politely about a price, but the wolf assured them that no compensation was needed, and shooed them unhurriedly through the gate. It was morning, and the eastern sun had thrown a veritable blanket of sparkles over many of the tents and wagons.

Inside the fence things were even more impressive than they'd looked from outside. The wagons-Dariat now saw there were dozens more than he'd thought-were set up in rough concentric circles around the hill, like ripples in a pond. The sides facing the center had the canvas drawn up to showcase whatever was inside. Many of them were simple stalls selling jewelry and keepsakes, or clothing or food or drink, all somehow based on or having to do with birds. Small falcons in flight adorned rings and jays and chickadees linked beak to tail to form elaborate necklaces or bracelets. Eagle-headed canes were practically spilling out of one stall, while in another the seller (a wolf) used what looked like a heated rock to melt metal and shape it to resemble a soaring crane carrying a fish. He had attracted quite a crowd, though they all stayed back due to the heat. Other stalls sported paintings and rugs, and a couple even weapons; a sword with a winged pommel, or impractical arrows with beaks on the ends.

The merchant tents were there to space out the others, which all held various attractions. Dariat and Sung (their parents had left for food) watched one entertainer wolf who carried canaries on both shoulders and a few on each arm. When people approached the birds would flap out to them, trailing thin purple string and draping it about their heads, much to the delight of the children gathered around. He would then have the birds perform tricks, flying over one another's heads and around and under each other in a specific sequence, all while trailing the strings, and the crowd found itself looking at a picture perfect representation of the warren. The wolf bowed humbly to the applause, and the canaries thought that an appropriate time to all whistle at once. At another, a magician (also a wolf) blew fire onto a falcon, who caught alight (the crowd gasped!) and then simply flapped his wings, and the fire dissipated in shapes of smaller, identical fiery falcons (and they cheered!). The boys clapped their hands in delight.

In certain areas the ripple-like lines were broken by smaller circles of wagons intruding on the main pattern like eddies. These smaller circles were all centered on some kind of attraction. Dariat and Sung found seats on the ground among a crowd gathered around a large cage with a tarp thrown over it, which adhered to the bars. Something was moving beneath it. A wolf appeared, dressed in the same gold and white as the rest, though his colors were stained onto an embroidered leather jerkin. He wore thick gloves and a kind of skullcap that covered his ears in thick leather as well. A star of white fur sat in the center of his forehead.

The wolf introduced himself as Astro, and then, with absolutely no warning, pulled the tarp off the cage. Dariat gasped along with the rest of the (by now sizeable) crowd. There was no cage. Instead, the tarp was revealed to have been hiding one of the gryphons, complete with harness. It snorted noisily at the sunlight. Astro stroked it gently along its head, muttering softly. He then stepped quickly back and clapped his hands twice. The gryphon reared, its beak open in a loud caw. His beak, Dariat noticed as it reared. The gryphon fell back to the earth and shook its maned head. Astro was busy with something in his hands. When he opened them, a small flame was dancing unaided on his palm. With a shout he threw it to the ground. It caught suddenly, and a ring of fire encircled the gryphon, who looked nonplussed. At a sharp command from Astro, the gryphon scooped up some of the fire with both foreclaws and poured it over his face. The fire dribbled down him like molten water, seeping into the crevices between his feathers and causing him to glow a dull red that was somewhat nullified by the sunlight. The gryphon repeated the action five more times, and then, without warning, reared again, this time spreading his wings to their considerable width. Fire raced along them, every feather edged in flame, and he became a burning, cawing effigy of Hell itself. The crowd gasped as he turned, allowing all to see him from every angle. Once he had stood for long enough that Dariat felt thoroughly cooked through, he flapped his wings, hard, and the fire flew out in every direction. The crowd gasped as bits of it landed on them, then turned to glittering red and orange streamer where they hit. Astro was doused in the stuff, and grinned rather roguishly at the reaction his act had received. Once all the fire was gone, the gryphon settled back down, resting his head almost lazily on his forelegs. The crowd applauded wildly, and Astro bowed modestly, and the gryphon cawed indifferently.

Walking past the stalls and attractions Dariat felt a faint twinge of something he couldn't quite define. Like nostalgia, only not as strong. It was an attraction to the promise of a kinship he had never felt before but that he had always dreamed about. He was one of the only avian creatures in the whole of Ketton, and even his parents-kind and loving cacomistles that they were-couldn't completely alleviate the tension he felt merely from being himself among so many mammals. Even though the carnival workers were all wolves, the way they handled the birds like pets held a strange attraction for him. It was obvious they cared about the animals, and just as obvious they didn't consider them strange.

"This is amazing," Sung said around a cooked piece of meat that had somehow been fashioned into a small soaring eagle on a stick. Dariat had found the food a little too macabre to get it, and had settled for a biscuit instead, though it, too, resembled a bird in general shape. It wasn't meat, though.

"Sure is."

"How do they make money, though? I don't get it. If they let everyone in for free, they're never going to turn a profit."

"But we're just a small town on the edge of the Plains," Dariat reminded him. "It's not likely they'll be losing too much by doing it. And they were going to stay here anyway, you remember what that wolf said." The one who'd sold them the food had indeed told them that the circus had planned on resting for a full day, anyway. Always good to rest up before a long travel across the Plains, he'd said with a wink, leaving the boys to wonder just how often they crossed them.

"Yeah, right. What did he mean, you think? You think they come from over there?"

"What, from Makod?" Dariat said. "There isn't anything comes from that place except big blind fortune-telling snakes."

"Makes you wonder what they want over there, innit?"

"Kind of," Dariat admitted. He wasn't as curious about that as about other things, though. "Come on, I saw something explode that way."

They started off in the direction he indicated. As they walked they greeted those they passed, all familiar faces from the warren. They picked up bits of gossip as they went; it still managed to spread even through a group whose attention was so distilled by the wonders about them. The most recent bit had something to do with clandestine night visits to the food hall by the entire troupe of wolves, but Dariat and Sung both discounted that as pure fantasy. The food hall was always occupied, if only by a skeleton crew of sweepers and night cooks preparing for the next meal for the families that opted to eat whatever the head chef decided to serve that day. They would have heard about it, had there been any wolves in the warren.

As the day wore on and the sun completed its jump from horizon to horizon the attractions changed. The changes were subtle, but once one saw them they were impossible to miss. Fire started to feature even more prominently than it had, and now the wolves were adding powders and liquids that changed its color. Dariat watched one wolf-a juggler dressed in a yellow and red-flecked canary-wrapped a thin coil of metal wire around a some torches and then lit them and juggled them, the strip of metal burning with an impossibly bright green flame that bore more of a resemblance to lightning than fire.

More of an emphasis was placed on theatricality as well. Costumes appeared and then multiplied, exotic fowl from equally exotic locations that Kettonfolk had never heard of before. Torches were lit to counterbalance the twilight creeping across the sky. Thin wires were draped almost casually across the tops of various wagons. Dariat never saw anyone doing it, but he was positive they hadn't been there before. Before long the crowd was walking beneath strands that shimmered a barely-definable gold in the fading phosphorescence.

That was when the first ones appeared.

Someone's surprised and delighted shout caused the boys to jerk their heads up. Several people were pointing at the sky. When he looked up, Dariat saw a shadow streak across, like a slowed down dark shooting star. His breath caught. What was.... Another appeared, going the opposite way. Several more. They started circling languidly, silently. The crowd below watched with baited breath. Dariat felt his heart leap upwards, threatening to drag him with it. Not for the first time he wished he'd learned how to fly as a child, the tips of his wings ached. He had to shake them to dislodge the feeling of pins that danced along his limbs.

The flying birds were as large as he was, that much was obvious. Also obvious were the simple leather vests and tied breeches they wore, though they had been painted to blend with their natural colors, apparently, which were not easily visible at this point.

Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished, dropping down on the center like stones. Dariat spent some minutes looking up, waiting for them to reappear, but they didn't.

They had spent the whole day walking around the outer rings. Now the wolves were quietly and insistently shooing the crowds away from their respective stalls and towards the center of the hill. "It's the main event," they were saying, flicking their eyes inward. "You don't want to miss this. Nobody ever does." Sun bought a bracelet for his sister, and Dariat a matching set of earrings for his parents. They had to pay for these; there may not have been an entrance fee, but the vendors accepted gold readily enough.

Negotiating their way through the rows of wagons and creatures was easy enough. The townsfolk had formed a general flow, channeled by the ever-patient wolves both in costume and out. The sun gave off its final colorful burst as it sank out of sight, leaving the sky to the moon. Everything was illuminated by pale white light, with just the faintest tinge of orange. They reached the innermost ring and passed through.

The main tent sat on the apex of the hill, colors falling down the sides like water down the face of a cliff, the whole thing a stone dropped into the middle of a pond that generated shimmering colored ripples. Townsfolk were pouring in through a large flap held open by a wolf in a crane costume on stilts. Dariat couldn't believe how massive it was. From this close it looked almost as big as the warren! Which was impossible, of course, because the warren filled the face of a cliff. But the flow of people wasn't slowing, and Dariat and Sung were swept up with it. The wolf on stilts grinned down at them as they entered.

If anything the interior was more impressive than the exterior. The first thing Dariat noticed was the massive pole in the center had disappeared. A complex arrangement of beams had been rigged to the outer poles, running the length of the wires that had at one point run to the center but now stopped just short. A hole nearly twenty feet in diameter dominated the center of the roof, moonlight streaming in. The rest of it formed a dome shape, wooden beams just visible in the torch lit interior. The result was an enormous open space, nearly devoid of obstacles of any kind. A sixteen-sided polygon made of supports surrounded the opening; on each one rested a statue of a different bird, crouching as though they were hunting rodents.

Set around the edges were rising rows of benches. They made a rough circle, touching the fabric in some places and resting against the poles in others. Dariat and Sung picked seats about halfway up between a couple of field mice and a tiger.

"What do you suppose this is, then?" Sung asked, his voice hushed. Everyone was speaking in quiet tones, as though the vast empty space inspired a kind of antipathy towards noise.

"Dunno. I've never been to one of these before."

Similar questions were being asked all around. Similar answers were given.

Once the flow of bewildered townspeople had stopped, the wolves quietly closed the flap and withdrew. A hushed expectancy descended over everyone. Then the torches flared bright as day.

SIR, THE CLIENT HAS ARRIVED

*

Ah! No, please, stop-glck! Please! Oh God, please no. AAHHHH!

When I tell you to leave me alone I FUCKING MEAN IT. I'm-busy-with-someone-in-here-

Please, sir, stop-AH! P-please, no, d-d-don't d-AHHHHHhhkkkkcct!

If you wanted to keep your jaw you shouldn't have been flapping it about. Useless fuck. Now crawl out before you bleed to death all over my floor. Now, precious, we were in the circus.

What was that?

Never mind him, love. Tell me about the show.

*

A solitary figure stood in the middle of the tent. Dariat could not believe his eyes, even as the whispering swirled around him, even as Sung grabbed his arm and said into his ear: "It's that dragon from before!"

It was indeed. He was, Dariat realized, most definitely green now. The concealing robe was gone, as was the hunching, reserved walk, cast off like so much unnecessary clothing. He was dressed in a leather vest embroidered with gold birds of every kind that shimmered in the torchlight. Breeches with gold buckles and a somewhat outlandish codpiece were eclipsed by the long coat, this red with white embroideries, dragons this time. Gold cufflinks shined from each wrist, matching the sparkle from his ear. In his right hand he clutched a cane, strong fingers curled around an eagle's head. His hands and feet and head were unclothed, and green scales that looked polished too bright seemed to give off a radiance of their own. His teeth were pure ivory.

He was grinning. Like he was in on the joke, Dariat thought. The robin felt his blood start to pump harder and hotter. His groin felt warm. He stared at the dragon incredulously as a slight pressure started to build.

He spread his hands theatrically and spoke in a voice that seemed to reverberate off the canvas walls. "Welcome! Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Show. I hope you have enjoyed yourselves today, browsing our wares and seeing our attractions. You have been delighted. You have been awed. But all you have seen has only been to prepare you for this moment. Though, as you will soon discover, nothing can adequately prepare you for what you are about to witness. For within this place, miracles are about to unfold. Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen. Miracles. Now do not think me arrogant; I do not claim for myself that power to which God alone holds the keys. But what God hath made, I hath discovered, as you, too, will soon discover. And the miracles-His miracles, my friends-will set your mind ablaze with the most ferocious kind of beauty ever seen on this continent, or any other.

"No doubt many of you have heard of the Avian Circus. You have heard it is wondrous and thrilling and beautiful and frightening. But you have no knowledge of its wonders. I can assure you that none of you have, for to hear of them is to hear of the mysticism that shrouds all that is the domain of I Am. You may have heard of far off lands, but to hear of is not to visit, yes? So I ask that you clear your minds, ladies and gentlemen. Sit back, or forward if you can bear, and leave behind all preconceptions that you may have. For what you are about to see is the distillation of the beauty, the ferocity, the terror, and the energy that hath been placed here.

"Welcome!"

And with that, the world exploded.

Dariat cried out in alarm, his voice lost among the general cry rising from the audience. Heat washed over him as fire erupted from the rafters, the supports, the wires, the benches, even the ground. Bright lights flashed in his eyes through closed lids. He coughed. The roar of the flames drowned out the sounds of the crowd-until it was itself drowned out. Dazed and shaken, he eased his eyes back open, staring in disbelief.

The statues on the rafters had come to life. They had also not been immune to the fiery storm that swept through the massive tent. As they spread their wings, fire poured off them like liquid, writing snakes that twisted and snapped at nothing as they fell to splash on the floor. One by one the great birds fell backwards off the rafters, spreading their wings as they fell. The air caught them and they soared. Heat seared Dariat's eyes as he watched, unable even to blink, as the birds began to circle around the center, sometimes diving or changing direction suddenly, sliding over and under each other at varying speeds and leaving trails of flame behind them. Liquid fire dribbled onto the crowd, though nobody was shrieking in pain where it landed. Both the fires and intense heat had subsided somewhat, and everyone was looking now, staring in slack jawed amazement at the apparitions before them. Some of the fire landed on Dariat. Where it touched the bench it burned lazily; where it hit his skin it became a streamer of red gold.

"Welcome to the Miracle!"

As they flew the birds gradually lost their flames. It dribbled down their claws and off their tails, it flew from wingtips with every flap. Every time it hit a surface that wasn't alive it exploded in a splash of light and heat, so soon the inside of the tent was dappled with pools of liquid flame suspended unnaturally from the walls and ceiling, crawling about the floor. A shrill whistle punctured the air suddenly, cutting through all the noise and red, and all the birds as one dropped to the floor as though gravity had suddenly been turned up several degrees. They hit in unison; as their feet touched down, the flames throughout the tent extinguished themselves suddenly, leaving only the torches flickering dully.

The dragon was still standing, still grinning, both hands on his cane and surrounded by sixteen of the most beautiful birds Dariat had ever seen.

They were just like him! Well, except for the colors, but he didn't even register such a paltry difference. They were of varying heights, all dressed in immaculate leather vests and breeches. The one nearest to him was a beautiful deep blue, black around his eyes and beak and gold patterns in his feathers. He blinked around at the crowd watching, opening his beak slightly in good humor.

Next to him stood a yellow gold one with bracers on his wrists and thin red filaments streaked through his wings that sparkled and gave an impression of motion even while he stood still; another was blue, with a light blue front side and gold designs on his beak; another was oily black, shifting light patterns playing over his feathers as he breathed. Red and gold and white flickered at him from the ring.

And in the center stood the dragon, watching him. He held Dariat's gaze when the robin's eyes slid over him, locking them in place. "Behold!" the dragon shouted. "Nature's wonder, refined. Molded. Become these magnificent creatures." The birds all bowed. A gleam in the dragon's eye shone clear across the ring. "What you are about to see is, of course, the reason you are all here."

The birds started unhooking their vests. One by one they fell to the ground. As the dragon spoke, they untied their breeches as well. Dariat stared, captivated and confused. "What you are about to see is nature's mystical power at its finest. You have seen magic before, you have seen the wonders that our stalls can offer you. But that, my friends, is child's play compared to the true power that lies within nature." The yellow one had even dropped his bracers. All the birds stood as they had before, their meager tailored clothes on the ground before them. "For nature is a mysterious animal, is she not? Created from nothing and given light; and it is that very holy light that enables us to see into the dark crevices that were meant to remain hidden. It is the light within us all that reveals the true power of nature." The birds had started dancing, a gentle swaying from side to side that graduated into an energetic step-over-step as they moved around the dragon, keeping the circle intact. Dariat noticed something was weird about the shadows, but he couldn't tell what. His eyes kept slipping back to the dragon's. Sindo was turning around, giving the entire audience his full attention. Dariat suddenly knew what was wrong with the shadows: they were opposite what they should have been, radiating out from the circle of birds as though the dragon was a light source, though he looked almost cloaked in shadow. "It is only through our inner light," he said, so low that Dariat was surprised he could hear at all, "that the true nature of the beast is revealed."

The birds suddenly jumped up, wings spread, and sailed out over the audience. They were all, Dariat noticed, trailing thin gold string behind them, meeting in the center, where Sindo was standing. Or at least where Dariat thought he was standing. The shadows had become absolute; where the dragon had been standing was now simply a black blob of impenetrable darkness. The gold strings actually seemed to grow from it like hair-thin appendages. The birds all executed neat flips over the support beams, wires trailing behind them like shimmering streamers. Once over and then under the bars they started flying in seemingly random patterns about the tent.

That was when Dariat noticed something was wrong. He became conscious of the heavy breathing from all sides, a sound that had been there but that he had heretofore unconsciously dismissed as unimportant. It was a quiet sound. Nobody was screaming or making awed sounds. It was almost unnaturally quiet.

"Look inward. Find the light amid the darkest recesses."

Dariat was feeling increasingly uneasy. A rational part of his brain wondered if he wouldn't be happier outside somewhere, where things weren't quite so claustrophobic and creepy. looked at Sung. "Come on, I don't think-" His voice choked off. Sung was staring raptly at the epicenter of darkness in the middle of the arena with a hungry, lustful expression in his eyes. His tongue peeked from the corner of his mouth, a small sliver of saliva just beginning to fall down his chin. He was panting like a wild dog. His hands were in his lap like he was cold, but when Dariat looked down he saw the ferret was kneading at his crotch as he rocked back and forth. "Sung. Sung! Come on, snap out of it."

Sung's head snapped around, teeth bared. He let loose a snarl that actually made Dariat jump away in fright. Nothing about him looked right: torchlight made a mockery of his light blue eyes, turning them into deep pools of black; shadows that bore little relation to any of his features flitted across his face; his ears were cupped towards the center of the ring, even as he looked at Dariat. Somehow his teeth looked longer, but that couldn't be right.

Dariat's hasty retreat sent him crashing into the field mice. A sharp pain lanced through his arm, originating around his collarbone. He looked to find the field mouse's teeth sunk into his fur. With a cry he wrenched himself free of the snarling rodent, careful not to bump into Sung on his right. He was suddenly glad it was Sung sitting next to the tiger.

"As you do, remember that the light exists within the darkness, shrouded by it, hidden by it-and protected by it. Yes."

As he looked around he saw, to his horror, that the behavior was not confined to his area. Not at all. Everywhere he looked he saw fangs, lightless eyes, faces frozen in hideously feral masks. The crowd was sitting forward, eyes locked on the shadow amid the incomprehensible web the birds were forming. The torches had nearly all gone out, but somehow he could still see clearly, though he had no idea how. A sourceless deep red illumination flicked shadows across muzzles and bodies. A collective moaning growl was beginning to rise from the bleachers, a sound so hideous and alien Dariat nearly bolted as fast as he could. The only thing that kept him in place was the knowledge that no matter where he went, he would have to pass through the crowd, which now more resembled a collection of wild beasts than the townsfolk with whom Dariat had spent his life. With a reluctance verging on outright fear he turned back to try one more time to persuade Sung to leave with him.

The ferret was leaning even farther over now, tongue hanging eagerly out of his mouth, a hand almost lazily stroking an erection. His pants were bunched up around his knees. Dariat watched in numb consternation as Sung brought his hand to his mouth to lick the palm and then returned it to his groin, moving faster. On the other side of him, the tiger was doing the same, only faster. The smell of arousal of both sexes pervaded the air, slamming into Dariat like a wall of fouled water. On his other side the field mouse that had bitten him had her hand between her legs and was hissing through teeth dripping with his blood. The story was the same above and below. To his horror, Dariat realized he was feeling a pressure in his own groin, though whether it was a result of the combined smell of a couple hundred masturbating furs or...something else, was unclear. "Please..." he whimpered, but Sung was beyond not paying attention to his friend. "Oh God, what do I do?"

"Embrace the dark as you would embrace the light, for the two are inseparable. Two halves of the same whole, as He intended it. Forget not, He created the Light, and did not destroy Dark. Look into the void and reach for the flame."

Those around him were now touching him, although the touches were incidental as they adjusted their bodies to facilitate their comfort. Given the reason, Dariat wasn't entirely comforted by this. Sung's leg had slipped under his, short fur brushing against the fabric of Dariat's trousers. He rolled his head almost lazily round to look at Dariat through half-lidded eyes.

"Come on," he said.

"Come on what? Sung, let's go!" Dariat was afraid to speak too loudly, afraid his voice might disturb whatever was keeping everyone's attention focused on the oval of darkness and not on him. An irrational fear, he knew. "Please!"

"I'm letting you," Sung said. He spoke as though he was half asleep, under-enunciating his words so Dariat had to strain to hear him over the collective groan of the thing that had been a crowd. "I know you've wanted to, I've ignored it. Give me your hand." He reached for Dariat, who drew back-not too far, though.

"What's wrong with you?" Dariat wanted to scream, but didn't. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want you to. I want it real bad. I've never been with anyone before. Please," he said emotionlessly.

"You're acting like a wild animal!" Dariat hissed.

"Wrong. Wild animals do not pleasure themselves. They are unaware of the light, or the dark. They see only the immediate, living in the present without a future or a past, guided by instinct alone. Self-pleasure is the ultimate expression of sentience. It is done with memory and imagined reality, miles above those animals that you deem wild."

It had taken Dariat a few seconds to realize the enshrouded figure far off in the center of the circle was talking to him. When he did he looked up slowly. The birds were still flying, dragging their weird gold threads and uttering alien keening sounds. The number of threads disappearing into the darkness had grown, as though it had sprung a leak and gold liquid was falling upwards into a senseless tangle of itself. He thought he could make out two blue points in the dark. "What?" he said numbly, knowing it was too soft to penetrate all the noise.

"It is conscious thought that allows us to renounce this world and temporarily embrace another, where everything is pure and good. With thought comes the realization that surrender is inevitable. But it also gives us the power to pretend, to imagine. To allow one's self to exist in a world that couldn't possibly exist itself, to supplant an imagined pleasure for a real one; these are not the actions of animals."

Sung was moaning. He was hunched over, eyes once again forward, hand moving much faster. His breathing was low and came in quick, shallow gasps. Once again, the story was the same all around him. He whimpered, a nearly silent sound that Dariat nonetheless correctly interpreted as his own name.

Dariat shook his head violently. This could not be happening. The entire town had become animals! He couldn't stand it. Pushing himself to his feet and not daring to look towards the center of the tent, he stumbled as he tried to move along the bench past his friend. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to run. He didn't know why he had been spared from this weird compulsion that had affected everyone else, but he didn't plan on sticking around to find out. He was afraid that he actually might.

"Dariat!" Dariat jumped as his hand was grabbed. He tried to pull away but was hindered by the proximity of the next bench below, afraid that if he struggled too hard he would fall. Sung guided his hand to his slippery erection and closed the robin's fingers around it. "I'm so close," Sung said. His voice had no tone, there was nothing to indicate any kind of thought behind the action except for the action itself. "Please."

"Let go!" He twisted free with a snarl of his own. He started pushing away again.

"This is the height of civility," the dark figure said. "Nothing more civil. Nothing more...evolved."

"They're fucking animals!" Dariat screamed.

"They can be that, too." The icy blue dots twinkled.

The shift was so sudden it gave Dariat a mild sense of vertigo. Everyone moved at once, falling sideways or forward. In his charged state Dariat was initially afraid that they had all fallen asleep, or died, or maybe even come back to their senses. It took only a moment to establish that none of those were correct. All around him the crowd had fallen in among itself, hands and mouths and other organs questing, reaching. The two field mice bumped him hard as the male pinned the female to the bench and impaled her unceremoniously. A meerkat grabbed at a cacomistle and shoved him into her mouth as a cheetah grabbed her from behind. Dariat could almost physically feel the attention shift from inward to outward.

He screamed as Sung's arms wrapped around his waist, muzzle worming its way into his pants. A wet tongue slipped across his fur just above his sheath. With a chirping cry he shoved, hard, into Sung's shoulders. The ferret stumbled back, as much as he could straddling the bench, and looked like he was about to resume his assault when the tiger pinned him. The big cat wasted no time positioning himself and shoving all the way in. Sung cried out, claws digging into the bench as his previous effort was totally forgotten.

"You see?" Two arm-like appendages lifted themselves from the main body of darkness, appearing to gesture around at the scene. "They could be this, too."

"Fuck you!" Dariat screamed. He uttered a silent prayer and then leapt, flapping wildly. He had never learned to fly properly, but his wings were still designed for flying. His haphazard attempt did manage to take him clear over Sung and most of the row before he crashed hard into the guard rail. Without hesitation he threw himself over and burst through the tent flap, mad voices moaning behind him.

The moon was full. That was somehow the first thing he noticed. That wasn't right; the moon was in cycle, not due to be full for another seven days. Nonetheless, a bright white circle rested imperiously and almost defiantly directly above him.

Dariat started running. His legs carried him down to the innermost line of wagons, which had somehow grown more menacing with the sun absent. The spaces between them had been filled with cartons, torches, or else just simply vanished. He ran along the line, finding a narrow space between two that he was barely able to squeeze through when a collective howl arose from the tent.

It was answered almost immediately by dozens of howls from without.

Dariat swore quietly. The wolves! Of course they'd be out here. He mentally reprimanded himself for being so stupid. But there was nothing he could do about it, not now. He could either go back, which was a non-option, or else push out. He opted for the latter.

Something had happened to the wagons since he had last been outside. They were all pushed closer together, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere. Again, though, there was nothing for it. He picked a direction at random and sprinted. Grass and discarded food crunched underfoot as he moved along the narrow alley between the two rows. He was looking constantly for any way to get further from the center, but where the wagons might have been far enough apart to allow his body through had been stacked crates, or logs, or any number of obstacles that would have taken him too long to move. Not helping his situation was the clouds that moved in to obscure the moon, cutting off his light. Fortunately, the soft golden glow from above provided him with just enough light to avoid hitting any major obstacles.

He froze. He looked up. Strands of glowing golden light bridged the gap between the rows of caravans, dozens of them, hundreds. Dariat knew they corresponded to the thin wires he had seen appearing earlier in the evening. What they were doing there was completely beyond him. Their effect, as far as he could tell, was to make him feel even more claustrophobic, like even if he climbed up he would be trapped by the strands.

The howls came again, jolting him into motion. They sounded like they were coming from right beside him! He thought he could hear the heavy thud of footfalls on the other side of the second wagon ring.

One of the wagons moved, rocking as though there was something within. The back flap was pulled aside by a set of wicked sharp claws, revealing a wolf's face. The wolf jumped out and landed hard on the grass. A white star marked the center of his forehead. Astro, Dariat realized at once, the wolf who had lit the gryphon on fire earlier. He remembered Astro had been wearing a leather jerkin with gold and white stained glyphs of gryphons on it. This wolf was wearing nothing. His fur seemed longer, mangier, and his legs slightly longer. The claws on his feet dug furrows in the ground. Breath misted in the cool night air, escaping from between long fangs exposed in a snarl. He was bigger, too, Dariat realized without quite knowing how he knew. He was more animal.

"Stop running, Dariat," the wolf said. Its voice was the grating of stone on bone. "No more running."

Fuck that, Dariat thought, and he sprinted away as fast as he could. His legs were beginning to tire and his breathing was harsh and ragged. He couldn't hear Astro behind him but he had no doubt the wolf was following. He needed to get out! But how could he possibly get around the wagons?

The answer was so obvious he almost whooped in surprised joy when he thought of it. At that instant four more wolves vacated their caravans, all as demonically twisted as Astro had been, and all growling at him. "Stop, Dariat." "There's nowhere to go." "The Thread sees you, Dariat."

He put on an extra burst of speed and then, when he was relatively sure the wolves were at least five, maybe six seconds behind him, he dove under one of the wagons. He found to his utter relief that they were high enough to admit him. He shoved some crates aside and dragged himself to the other side.

A hand grabbed at his foot. He kicked at it, once, and it let go when it scraped the underside of the wagon. A furious snarl followed him through.

Dariat emerged on the other side and stood up, not bothering to brush himself off as he approached the next layer. He hit the ground and started to crawl under the second wagon when a pair of wolves appeared, clawing their way at him from the outside. He shrieked and backtracked, falling onto his back. The telltale thump of feet was approaching again, the howls and growls becoming indistinguishable from the general babble of Stops and It's No Uses. He ran, chancing a glance up as he did. The wires were spaced apart more here. The claustrophobic feeling was, while not dispelled, at least somewhat lessened. An idea sprung into his mind, so stupid and so wild that he very nearly dismissed it right away. But his situation was too hopeless, he knew. They were waiting for him outside this ring of wagons, and inside the other, and chasing him through this space between. There was no choice.

With another prayer he leapt. He had tried to time his leap carefully so that when he extended his wings he wouldn't hit the wagons or the strewn golden lines. He was lucky; he missed them both. With one awkward flap followed by another he managed to flutter haphazardly onto the top of a wagon. He kept running, looking down as he did. He immediately wished he hadn't. What looked like every wolf there was chasing him, coming at him from both sides. With no other option he took one last step and jumped, spreading his wings. The frustrated howls below him multiplied as Dariat slowly gained height. His wings worked hard to keep him aloft, shoulder muscles straining, but he nonetheless felt himself level out, and then fall. Shit! Well, it had been a long shot anyway. He angled himself more left, so he would at least land on the next level of wagons instead of the ground.

Something smashed into him, spinning him viciously around. He cried out in shock and fright as he was whisked along, taking a moment to realize he wasn't falling. Feathers scratched at his nose as wings whooshed through the air. He had been afraid one of the wolves had jumped and caught him. His relief was short lived. He was suddenly heading back towards the center of the circle, towards the hellish tent. He screamed in mad fury and kicked and bit at whatever was holding him. A shriek in his ear nearly deafened him in response, and he was suddenly tumbling down, crashing to the ground with bone jarring force. He moaned and rolled onto his stomach, trying to clear his head, disbelieving. When the thing had hit him and he had spun, he had been granted a brief glance of an enormous golden spider web conforming to the shape of the rows of wagons and ending at the apex of the great central tent.

A heavy weight landed on his back, snarling. Dariat screamed again and tried to move, but he was pinned. Tears welled in his eyes, his whole body shaking as fear took control. Then there was pain as the wolf scratched a long line down his back. Then another wolf joined it, scratching at his waist. A third wolf joined, then a fourth, biting and scratching and tearing at his clothes until he was wearing little more than shredded ribbons. Then they stopped, all of them and all at once.

Dariat lay motionless beneath the furry mass of wolves, hardly daring to breathe. He wanted to cry and plead, but he knew it would be useless to these crazed monsters. The tears started down his cheeks as they got off him and picked him up. A brief remembered flash of modesty made him cover himself with his hands, but the wolves flanking him snatched his hands away and marched him forward, towards the tent, and through the great flap.

The sight that greeted him very nearly froze him again. The birds had stopped flying. They were all standing on various beams on the roof, gazing down. Beneath them, a dazzling and complex figure had somehow formed itself out of the tangle of gold thread they had been carrying. It looked like a perfect circle, layered with dozens of complicated designs. At a glance Dariat was able to pick out at least five different species of bird, several hexagrams, an arrow, and a dragon. The center was dominated by a dense concentration of them shaped like the sun, while the moon ringed the outer edge in all her phases, new below and full atop. The threads now disappearing into the darkness now numbered in the hundreds, they must have. The whole thing was shining with an eerie radiance.

And all around, every face was turned towards him.

"Come, Dariat," came the voice from the darkness. "Come and embrace the dark."

Dariat opened his beak to reply but all that came out was a choked sob.

"Come now, there's no need for that." The wolves started walking, half dragging the robin along with them. "That's enough," the voice said, and the wolves stopped, standing Dariat upright. "Dariat, look at me."

Knowing he didn't have a choice, Dariat forced himself to look up. Two silver blue eyes stabbed at him through the darkness, reptilian and seething.

A strange thing happened. Dariat felt the muscles along his arms relax slightly, and then those along his legs. His back softened as well, though only just, and the knot growing in the center of his belly became a little less hideous. It was as though he had been carrying something heavy and had just now set it down.

"You should," the voice said, darkly-or maybe soothingly.

Dariat's breathing steadied fractionally. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice shaking. "What do you want?"

"Those are two entirely different questions, aren't they? Why don't you come here."

"Because I don't want to." Dariat was finding it impossible to look away from those blue eyes.

"But why not? You're perfectly safe here, you know." The eyes flashed. "Come."

Dariat felt the restraining arms let go. One had been gripping his left arm so tight it had cut off circulation to his hand. The feeling returned like a rush of pins, and the gentle pain jolted him slightly. For a brief moment everything was visible, the benches and the staring faces, the wolves surrounding him, the coils of light snaking away from an impenetrable dark ovoid directly before him. Dariat hadn't even realized he hadn't been seeing everything. The eyes that stared from the bleachers, the wolves that bared their teeth behind him, all beneath those birds on the rafters....

The icy eyes flashed.

And then none of that mattered. The only thing was the dark ovoid. It was tinged with gold, Dariat now saw, little points of light. Apprehension crawled across his feathers like a cold stream of water, but it was at once more like a memory of the water than the real thing. He felt it, but was unsure where it was coming from. Surely not from within himself? Before him, the darkness seemed inviting, an occluded offer of comfort. He took a step towards it. A tiny bit of the fear evaporated, alcohol on warm skin, leaving him slightly cool. He took another step. The darkness beckoned him. "I don't, though," he said, though he couldn't remember why he was saying it. He fished around for the reason. Finally he settled on asking, "How do I know?"

"Because I'm telling you."

As Dariat took yet another step forward the conversation took on an even more ethereal quality. He couldn't quite remember what the darkness had said before, but he knew the gist, which had something to do with he should keep walking, and so he did. Step by step his fear was withering away. A much simpler, more desirable coolness was replacing it. Some part of him didn't want to leave the conversation where it was, but that part was small and dwindling fast. But it was insistent. So he searched again, reaching deep within the recesses of his memory, which resembled a pleasant gold fog more than anything. He reached something that seemed important. "Animals," he said slowly, trying out the word. It felt strange on his tongue, a food he hadn't tasted for months. "Friends. You," he added, pointing uncertainly at the darkness, "you made my friends animals."

The darkness seemed to writhe at the edges, tiny tendrils appearing and then snaking away to disappear into thin air, dragging more of the unlight behind them. The darkness unraveled to reveal a green dragon standing where it had been.

"But not you," Sindo purred.

Dariat took more steps, stopping when he was maybe two steps away, what he felt was an appropriate distance. His gaze was locked on the dragon's eyes.

Sindo reached out to stroke Dariat's white chest gently, his claws catching under the feathers and sending shivers down the robin's spine. "Do you enjoy this?" he asked as his hands approached Dariat's neck.

Dariat wanted to cry no, a minute vestige of resistance that spiraled down into nothingness. He nodded, then said, "Yes."

The hands crept up his shoulders and met at the back of his neck. Dariat thrilled at the touch, electric waves of pleasure coursing through him, though he didn't know why. He was experiencing a kind of satisfaction whose origin he couldn't pinpoint. There was a metallic click, and then the hands were gone, drawing away the gold chain that had been dangling about his neck. Sindo wrapped the chain twice around his wrist and locked it. All at once the fog in Dariat's mind began to clear.

"I'm sorry about the short-term memory thing," Sindo said. Dariat was shaking his head. "This is an extremely powerful little trinket."

"What are you-" Dariat looked up at the dragon, understanding slow on coming. "You were...you did something to me. What?"

Sindo grinned wide. "Now why do you care about that? No, don't worry about it. You don't." The blue eyes flashed again.

Dariat felt everything growing warmer. His peripheral awareness started to fade again. "Yeah. No, I don't really, do I?" He found that it was true. What harm could the dragon have possibly been doing? He was radiating comfort, nullifying every negative emotion Dariat had ever felt.

"That's better," the dragon said. He reached out again. "Stand still for me." Dariat complied, shivering as the smooth warm hands glided over his feathers. They traced the outline of white on his abdomen, following the gentle curve inward as it ran past his belly and to his legs. The hands didn't slow down as they reached his groin. They came to rest on his sheath and sac. "Ah," Sindo said as he squirmed. He had never felt anything like this! He had touched himself before, but nobody else had.

"Just stand," Sindo, suddenly close, breathed into his ear. Dariat endeavored to do that. He trembled as the tips of the claws were drawn across his sac, tracing small circles around the bottom. The other hand was rubbing gently at his sheath, coaxing him towards an erection.

He was ecstatic. Heart and lungs were working overtime as the object of last night's fantasy stood less than a feather's width from him, touching him where he had wanted to be touched. The high from simply being here in his presence was almost enough to make him moan, though he tried not to, unsure whether or not that fell within the purview of just standing. The hand on his sheath cupped it and squeezed lightly, forcing him onto his toes. Breath hissed involuntarily from his beak. Before long he was at full attention. The hand on his sheath had shifted its attentions, was now rubbing along his length with agonizing gentleness.

Then the hands were once again removed, and Dariat had to suppress a moan. "Oh, don't you worry about that, now." Sindo locked eyes again, warm blue sifting through to wrap Dariat's brain like a blanket. "There are other things you could be worrying about. Do so."

Dariat nodded meekly. He wondered briefly if it was OK to break the gaze, but decided in the end that his beautiful dragon had told him so.

"Not really your dragon, am I?" Sindo asked lightly. "Your sense of ownership is off."

Dariat's eyes roamed over the dragon's green body. The scales on his chest were a lighter green than the rest of him, tapering down to nothing on the inside of his legs. Tiny, barely-perceptible gold tattoos swam on his scales, so hard to see Dariat had trouble pinning them down. As he watched they almost appeared to be moving. His sac and sheath were the same light green as his stomach, and seemed just as polished. Sindo's whole body, his presence radiated warm understanding and invitation. That sudden realization was all Dariat really needed. With reverential slowness he sank to his knees, settling on the grassy ground. A quick glance up was met with approving blue eyes. Tentatively, he applied his tongue to the dragon's sac.

A strange sensation washed through him. It was something he'd never felt before, lighting a warm fire that started where his tongue touched skin and diffusing through his whole body, and he knew instantly, almost instinctually, what it was: approval, and not his. He chirped softly and happily as he licked up slowly, the interloping feeling caressing him in a way somehow even more intimate. He got to the sheath and started again, dragging his tongue up from the base of the sac. A hand came to rest on his head, gently massaging one tufted ear.

Around him, the world had become a diffuse haze of warmth and darkness. It was indistinct, the way fog on a full moon night obscures nothing so well that a presence is felt beyond it, even if there is nothing there. Dariat could sense something out there beyond the veil of the dark, but each time the dragon's skin touched his tongue he was reassured that whatever it was didn't matter in the least. It was Sindo's taste that mattered to him, and his approval, which was thrumming through his veins.

He coated the dragon's sac several times, even daring to use his hands to caress the back where he couldn't reach. A light pressure on his ear made him look up. The most beautiful erection he had ever seen was lying flat against Sindo's belly. It was long and straight, so beautiful that Dariat could only stare at it.

"Most beautiful, hm?" Sindo said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Of course, I have not seen very many, Dariat thought to himself. The communal baths were open to everyone from a very young age, and goers tended to lose control of their bodies very little there. It happened on occasion, but when it did it was laughed off, or else taken to somewhere more private. More pertinently, he had had a crush on Sung for years, always secretly wishing that the ferret would admit to having similar feelings for him someday. One time, when drying off after a swim, Sung had become aroused at something. He and Dariat had laughed it off, Dariat secretly wishing he was brave enough to do more than laugh. That single glance was the only glimpse he'd gotten after years of wishing. And he knew it didn't even compare to this.

"I appreciate your hyperbole," Sindo chuckled. He moved his hand down to Dariat's chin and lifted slightly. "Do more."

Dariat did more. His tongue eagerly traced along every edge of the enlarged member it could reach, exploring the folds where it emerged from the sheath, feeling the strange contours underneath the skin. He pulled it closer with his hands and licked around the glans, feeling as he did so a powerful sense of self-fulfilling amazement. He was doing it! Finally, after years of looking quietly at other boys and his friend, he was having sex. And he was having it with a dragon, no less. And not just any dragon, but this one, the one he'd felt such a strong attraction to when they'd first met. And, judging by the emotions trickling into him, he was doing a good job. The fact of the experience was quite easily headier than the experience itself. Though that's not to say the experience was anything short of miraculous.

"What did I tell you about miracles?" Sindo murmured as Dariat's tongue moved eagerly over his tip. "Nature is full of them."

Dariat wanted to nod in agreement. A drop of clear fluid had appeared on the slit at the top. He regarded it for a moment before cleaning it off. It tasted wonderful, exactly the way he'd always imagined it tasting.

The next command was an unspoken one. But Dariat understood it perfectly. He opened his beak and put his hands on Sindo's body near the base of his sheath, then moved one of them to his sac at a whim Sindo chuckled at that and then, with agonizing slowness, pushed himself into the robin's mouth.

Dariat remembered the times he had spent talking with the other boys in the warren. As with most adolescent boys, quite a few of the talks had degenerated inevitably into discussions of sex. He remembered one conversation in particular in which one of his friends asked just how he would give oral sex to someone, seeing as how he couldn't easily suck anything without lips to make a vacuum. Dariat had just shrugged and said he'd figure it out eventually. Now he thought he had, and it was curious. He had to be careful not to close his beak too much, but as Sindo pressed into his mouth and finally against his throat he wrapped his tongue around the member and pulled. That elicited a pleased murmur from the dragon, who stopped long enough for Dariat to do it several more times before resuming his gentle insistent push. He was halfway in when Dariat started to choke.

"Relax," the dragon commanded, and Dariat relaxed. The tip pressing against the back of his tongue no longer mattered, except that it was what Sindo wanted, and was therefore good. "If you swallow occasionally, it will be even better," the dragon advised. So Dariat swallowed.

Sindo continued pushing until he was all the way in, and Dariat felt like his throat must be bulging out but he knew it wasn't. Sindo withdrew a little bit, leaving his glans inside Dariat's throat, and then pushed back in. He repeated this action several times, setting a slow rhythm. Dariat's blood was pounding in his neck and ears, and he closed his eyes in pleasure. "That's good," Sindo hissed. "I can see I picked right with you." Dariat wanted to agree, to declare that he had done perfectly with him. He knew the thought got through anyway. He massaged the dragon's sheath and sac as his throat was used. Every few thrusts he would actually feel some more of the fluid dribble down his throat, and he swallowed, and Sindo sighed.

He continued for several more minutes. Dariat had surrendered control of himself, only moving his throat, tongue and hands of his own accord. When Sindo pulled his member away he wanted to protest, but he knew it was probably for the better. His own member was practically throbbing, and his tip was wet as well.

Sindo sank down suddenly, so their faces were level. His blue eyes caught hold of Dariat's soul and refused to let go, slipping warm tendrils into his whole being. Dariat reveled in his own surrender. "I'm going to use you," Sindo said softly, his hands reaching out to caress Dariat's hypersensitive penis. "I'm going to, but I can't do it yet. You've never been with anyone before, have you?"

"No," Dariat said sadly. He hated that he disappointed Sindo like this.

"There is no disappointment," Sindo said. "There is only prudence. Look at me, Dariat. I would not be an ideal first mate for you. So I am going to help you out. Stand up." They stood together. "Spread your wings wide." Dariat did as he was instructed, excitement budding in his chest. What was Sindo going to do to him now? The thoughts made him shudder.

"Hold still." Sindo raised his hands, and for the first time in a long time Dariat noticed gold trailing from the fingers. He only saw it peripherally, shifting in and out of focus. Then Sindo began his dance. It was a slow twirl, hands extended towards Dariat as he moved. He slid his body so close his feathers could feel the air pressure change, though he didn't quite touch him. The dance carried the dragon all around Dariat, who shivered in anticipation and watched him with longing, wishing he could touch and taste some more. The dragon's tail snaked around his legs, trailing some of the gold and leaving it behind where it touched briefly before moving up, and up, and then away again. SIndo finally laid his hands on the robin, dragging his claws over feathers and between fingers before another twirl took him away again. The whole time he moved, Dariat's attention was badly divided between groin, face, and tattoos, the latter seemingly actually moving now, swimming from one shoulder to the other, creating patterns on his green back.

"Where are your wings?" Dariat asked suddenly.

"Right where I left them," Sindo said nonchalantly. "When I don't need them I put them away. But if you'd like to see them...?"

"Oh, yes, please!"

"Very well." It was as if Dariat had blinked and then there they were. The powerful appendages grew up from the dragon's shoulders, articulating at one joint that ended in a wicked looking claw. The membranes appeared to have the same oily quality as his scales had when Dariat had first laid eyes on him yesterday. He couldn't quite focus on any one color in them. "I was done, anyway. Dariat." Sindo cupped the robin's chin lovingly. "I'm going to have one of the others use you. I want you to behave. You will, won't you?"

"But-yes," Dariat said miserably. He wanted his first to be Sindo, and the dragon knew that. Why was he giving him away?

"Because it's as I already told you. I'm not a good match for anyone's first time. But do not fret, little Dariat. You will feel me within you again before long."

That single sentence sent electric thrills through every limb. Dariat flexed his hands to relieve the nervous energy. "Can I put my arms down now?"

Sindo's smile was toothy. "You may."

Dariat relaxed his arms-and then immediately rose off the ground. He yelped in surprise, his inner ears telling him to flail to right himself, but something was keeping him from moving too much. After a couple seconds struggling he started to calm down, realizing that whatever was happening was well within Sindo's power to do, whatever it was. There was nothing to fear now. He relaxed, and felt himself strangely manipulated. His legs and arms moved of their own accord, nothing he could do about it. He was also lifted far off the ground, until he was sure he must be twenty feet in the air. He had to blink hard several times because something gold and out of focus kept popping up in his vision, everywhere he looked. He tried to rub at his eyes, which he was permitted to do, and as his hand approached he saw unmistakably the thin gold filaments wrapped around each of his fingers, his thumb, wrist, and several places on his arm. The understanding that dawned on him seemed to bring with it a literal clarity of vision: he was suddenly, briefly aware of a web of gold threads all around him, securing him high up and preventing him from moving. He was gently turned over so he was facing down. The ground was obscured by the darkness, giving him the eerie impression he was suspended from nothing, over nothing.

Someone pressed into his back. Someone warm. He looked down and found Sindo muttering something, his blue eyes positively blazing against the dark haze that obscured everything else. The someone on his back put one of his arms up under Dariat's right arm to grab at his left shoulder. A wing, Dariat realized. The wing of the blue bird from earlier. A sudden pressure under his tail alerted him to the fact that the bird was also aroused. He clenched reflexively, but relax a voice told him, and he did. The blue bird pressed against him. Dariat could feel some kind of wet slippery substance on the insistent member as its head slid into him, followed by the rest, slowly. He winced, but worked hard to keep himself relaxed.

The blue bird started to thrust gently. He was resting his head on Dariat's shoulder, and from the corner of his eye he could see the other bird's own eyes were closed and fluttering as he deflowered the robin beneath him. Dariat gasped as one of the blue's thrusts pressed against him in a most pleasing way. He was sure he could feel a small jet of his seed escaping. He drew his eyes shut in pleasure.

"Yes," Sindo's voice said from somewhere below him. "Embrace it. Open your eyes, Dariat."

Dariat did. The threads holding him had stopped slipping in and out of his vision and were glowing brilliantly against the dark. He was caught in the middle of a tangled nova or gold filaments whose light threatened to pierce his eyes, though it wasn't painful. He recognized the shapes from before, particularly the moons. From his vantage point, he could now make out hundreds of smaller shapes in the web, things that looked like writing but in a language he had never before seen, birds whose wings flapped as the tangle was shaken by the movement of the two real birds within it. The strings immediately surrounding him were glowing brighter than any of the rest.

A sharp thrust from the blue caused him to squeak with pleasure, and this time he could see clearly as a thin white stream pulsed from the tip of his member and fell down-or where he assumed was down, anyway. Strange things were happening to his sense of direction. He felt weightless.

The blue wrapped Dariat tighter and started panting through his beak. Dariat's feathers rippled under the breath, adding minutely to the pleasing sensations building to a crescendo throughout his body. His legs were spread a bit more and the hand on his shoulder moved to his hips and gripped him. The thrusts came faster and harder, ending with the blue bird crying out softly in his ear, his hips shaking as his orgasm hit. Dariat sighed in vicarious pleasure, for some reason suddenly keenly aware of the relief flooding through the shaking bird's feathers. It had been so long! So long, and this one was so beautiful, and why had Master not let him for so long? But now it was OK, and the tension that had steadily built up over weeks of forced inactivity was finally gone, given freely to this new red bird. He was pretty. Master would probably

*

Damn it. Spillover.

Ah, huh, hff, hff, hmm.... What? Why did you stop?

I'm not doing anything. We're going to have to edit that last bit out. Replace it with something, I don't know, hazy? Perhaps a warm glowing feeling deep in the pit of your stomach as he reaches around to stroke you, gently whimpering on your shoulder. No, never mind. That's too inconsistent. But I like the warm idea. The glow was there, but it was from me. You pleased me, and that, in turn, pleased you.

Of course.

Oh shut up. As if you know what I'm talking about.

What is spillover? Is it bad?

In this case, it's not necessary or desirable. The Thread amplifies emotions and makes them...I don't know, we'll call them exo-emotions for now. Facilitates mental interaction. What you were experiencing was sort of an amalgam of-why am I telling you this?

I don't know. Do you want me to stop asking?

Oh, if it's not too much of an inconvenience, I suppose. Don't let me stomp on your innocent curiosity.

.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry.

Whatever. We'll change that, as it has no place in your mind anyway. So, keep going.

*

It was as though the warm glow was suffusing through the threads, making them pulse gold with his heartbeat. The blue bird withdrew carefully, and an emptiness pervaded Dariat, at once complementing and warring with the glow in his belly.

The web began to move. His arms were pulled over his head and his body reoriented, though the only way he could tell was by the movement of the web itself around him. The strange apparent lack of gravity was still affecting him. As he turned, the shapes floated past his vision, a nimbus of language older and stranger than anything he knew. They pulsed with their own power, he saw. It was in tune with the pulses coming from him.

The web shook suddenly. Dariat tried to look around, but he could see nothing at first. Then, through the haze, he saw the telltale blue glint. And then he emerged.

Dariat gasped. The creature slithering through the darkness was nothing like what he was expecting. The head came first, elongated and far more reptilian. Horns jutted from behind large ears, two more from the top of his head; a single, compact horn capped the end of the snout. Nostrils flared as it breathed. Next came the torso, and then the rest of him, fore and hind legs, and a long tail. Two massive wings were held out from his body, their joints tipped with daggers. More spikes extruded from the back of his elbows and heels and the front of his knees. Dangerous claws clung almost lightly to the strands as he moved his massive frame over them like a cat stalking its prey, keeping low and staring straight ahead. That his wings never once snagged or tore through the wires was impossible, but somehow they didn't. He was the color of polished obsidian.

"You seem excited," the feral Sindo observed.

Dariat's heart had begun racing even more quickly, light pulsing away from him at an increasing rate. As the great beast approached he noticed the web was also pulsing under him, long beats that came slower and yet seemed more solid than his. Where they met the dragon's overpowered, absorbing Dariat's like so much nothing.

Sindo continued his slithering advance. Teeth the length of Dariat's forearm glistened in his maw. "Look at me, Dariat. Look well. What do you see?"

"You," the robin said in a worshipful whisper.

The great black beast chuckled. The sound resonated in Dariat's bones, eliciting a delicious shiver. "And what am I?"

Dariat thought he understood after a long moment during which his recollection of previous events flashed. "Darkness. You're the Dark that protects the Light."

"Interesting."

As the dragon moved the waves of light he made crept closer and closer to Dariat. Finally one of them reached him. The effect was like being electrified. Every nerve in his body sang at him, his muscles fought to contract, his breath caught and he threw his head back. Another wave hit. And another. Soon he wasn't feeling anything but the buzz. Through half-open eyelids he saw without seeing that his own perturbations in the web were almost completely overrun now. A few more clawing steps from the black dragon and they would be gone completely.

A hand ran over his stomach. With an effort he brought his head to bear. He found himself gazing directly into the awful, wonderful blue eyes. "You're ready for me." It wasn't a question but Dariat felt compelled to nod anyway. This close he felt rather than saw that Sindo was nearly twice as long as he was tall, and that was without taking into account the tail that was hidden somewhere behind his wings. He felt his heart shudder. It was as if two completely separate pulses were tugging on it at once. "Close your eyes," the dragon commanded, and Dariat did. He felt Sindo slide up his body as the hand on his stomach was moved to cradle his back. He wasn't consciously aware of his legs being lifted ever so slightly higher and wider. Everything was dominated by Sindo's presence, it had become his whole world.

Dariat never saw Sindo's erection, but he felt it split him wide open. A moan escaped his beak, turning into a cry as the dragon pushed deeper and deeper. "Hush," the dragon commanded. Dariat's mouth clamped itself shut. Not even a whimper escaped. Sindo kept pushing, and tears welled in the robin's closed eyes. When their hips finally connected it was as though lightning had struck. An explosion of color thrummed through Dariat's body, arching his back and straining his throat as it struggled between obeying the impressed command and succumbing to instinct. The wave of color reached the ends of his fingers and toes and beak, and it was as though his body were an echo chamber. It sped back in, concentrating just behind his groin. The pressure peaked, and his hips thrust even higher-

"No," Sindo said simply.

The moment exploded. Dariat's member quivered, his sac drawn tight to his body as it pushed for a release it was simply not going to achieve. The robin couldn't help himself; he whimpered, the pathetic sound forcing its way past the psychic block to crawl out of his throat. Every muscle in his body was taut, he was on the brink and unable to just simply jump over! Because Sindo said he couldn't. The thought of the dragon brought back a measure of rationality, provided Dariat a tangible thing to focus on.

Sindo pulled himself out, then slammed back in. Hard.

It was a cry this time, not a whimper. He couldn't arch his back any more, and his hands were stuck wide. Sindo laughed, and repeated his action, sending white hot pleasure searing through every nerve in Dariat's body. Every thrust slid along his prostate, forcing out a small stream of white, but never enough. The tears stung in Dariat's eyes, he couldn't even tell which way they were falling.

The thrusting member seemed connected to Dariat's voice box. Each time their hips connected, and each time Dariat cried out loud in pain and pleasure. Claws raked down his back, tugging feathers away at their base in long furrows. Hot breath spilled over his chest as a tongue lapped at his nipples. The tongue moved lower, sliding through the mussed white feathers until it found hot flesh. With exactly no preamble it slid over Dariat's member, encasing it in a wet, writhing spiral of strong muscle. His tears and voice already engaged, all Dariat could do was shiver as the tongue pulled at him, sliding over his glans and base at the same time. The hot appendage tickled at the inside of Dariat's sheath before sliding over and around his testicles, all while the dragon's gargantuan cock thundered into him. "Hush," Sindo gasped darkly, "be still."

Dariat felt the tongue slide off, pulling as it went and very nearly causing him to lose everything. It flicked his tip and then the breathing was at his neck. Everything in his body was white pleasure and red control, his universe dominated by the black dragon he couldn't see but could feel warm inside him. The control exerted over him by the dragon was complete; he couldn't even flex his hands, his fingers and toes were trapped splayed apart. Even his beak wouldn't open anymore, the cries reduced to muffled sobs.

When he thought his body would burst from tension, Sindo growled, "Yes."

It was simultaneously an emission of pleasure and an acknowledgement of permission. The world uncoiled, and Dariat with it. With a howl he opened completely. Thick, hot jets flew from his penis, tearing upward and leaving in their wake a kind of severe pleasure that burned and throbbed. Some landed in his open beak, coating his tongue with his own familiar taste. At the same time his eyes flew open. The darkness had vanished completely. Around him the web bristled. The figures and symbols seemed to be almost vibrating, their outlines growing less and less defined. Beyond that, with his head thrown back, he saw hundreds of naked bodies writhing on what must have been the ground, or the bleachers. They were all caught in the throes of climax as well, and all were howling like wolves.

As soon as he spoke, Sindo drove deeper into Dariat's body and roared. Dariat felt the hot seed splash through him, filling him more completely than he would have thought possible. Red sparks started where they were joined and exploded pleasure through every feather. Above them, the birds were adding their own voices to the noise.

Sindo gave one final, massive thrust. The motion jolted everything into a hazy dark spin, the gold threads collapsing and entwining the two of them. As Dariat looked into the blue eyes the rest of the world faded to black around them. The voices because part of a maelstrom of cascading heat and sound that swirled like a whirlpool with Dariat in the middle. Despite the violence occurring all around, Dariat felt completely at peace. The trail of semen on his chest was cool. Great hands supported his back and stroked from his beak to his throat, which he exposed at a silent wish, the vulnerability thrilling him all over again. Sindo's seed and member within him felt so much a part of him he wanted to wriggle down and bring more of him in. Dariat gazed directly into warm, blinding blue eyes. "Go to sleep," the great black dragon said.

Dariat drifted into unconsciousness, borne by the dragon's wings, wolf howls faint in the distance.

*

Sindo sat back in his chair and stared at the youth before him. The robin was lying on his cot, clearly aroused by the memory he was reliving. The green dragon let his eyes rove once or twice from head to toe before self-discipline kicked in and he forced himself to his feet. As he approached the bed he had to chuckle at Dariat's hand slowly stroking his arousal, his face a mixture of consternation and adoration. Centuries of exposure to memories like this had left Sindo with too much experience to lose control, but even he wouldn't deny that reliving that night had sparked some carnal feelings. He would take care of his urges later. Right now, he had a customer.

A quick glance at the rug told him the wolf had not made it out of the room. The canine's jaw lay a good three feet from the gurgling servant. Blood had pooled beneath his head, soaking into the crevices in the wood and rivulets, forming tiny rivers that flowed slowly towards the entrance flap. Fucking typical. He should have known better than to interrupt Sindo when he was extracting memories. The dragon concentrated on the experience he had just forced Dariat to relive, feeling it squirm and flow inside his mind. He gripped it with a wispy tendril of thought and coddled it from his brain, and into the gold necklace in his hand. He sensed it writhe around before it settled, mixing its essence with the plethora of similar memories already stored within. When he opened his eyes he found Dariat looking at him, eyes showing only a faint trace of expectance, nothing more. He still retained some of his original personality; his will had not yet been obliterated by constant psychic manipulation like the others. It made him more fun, for the time being. "Sleep," Sindo said, dragging the back of his hand tenderly across the robin's face.

Dariat's eyes closed, his hand falling to the bed. Sindo allowed himself a last look as he turned to go. His circus traveled upon a slightly different path every time it moved, allowing him to sample more of the world than he would on a fixed route. He would definitely act on those urges when he returned. He might even wake Dariat up first.

His foot caught on an outstretched hand, causing him to stumble. His mood shattered. He kicked out furiously, connected solidly with the wolf's exposed windpipe and sending the servile moron flying into the canvas wall. A red smear marked where he had hit. Sindo sent a mental command for some of the others to come in and clean up the mess. Then he stepped out of the wagon.

Unlike the fertile lands across the Plains, Makod was not soothing on the eyes. A long time ago it had been the epicenter of some titanic catastrophe, its once flat fauna-infested fields cataclysmically altered, tall jagged peaks rising and lifeless shale grey rock replacing them. Not much had survived the event, whatever it was, except for the eponymous Makoden, who, many said, had gained psychic powers as a result. A claim the race of snake people had so far not bothered to correct. Sindo had yet to encounter anything that could cause such destruction and simultaneously grant the power of prevision. His claws clicked as he dropped the paltry foot onto the hard ground.

The Avian Circus had arranged its caravan in the usual concentric circle formation beneath the steel sky, although here it was more of a formality than anything. The natives would not take kindly to any kind of magical manipulation, and as their collective will was strong enough to threaten even a dragon as powerful as Sindo, the Thread remained safely in storage for the time being. Besides, they were his best customers.

As he wound his way through the rings the servant wolves made sure to step hastily out of his way. Here where he didn't have to bother with maintaining an illusion of civility the creatures had reverted to their rather snarly state of being. Even then they didn't dare approach him.

One of the Naga was waiting for him just inside the final ring of wagons. Sindo bowed as he approached, shallow and well short of mocking. "Szensi," he greeted humorlessly.

The snake returned the bow. "Greeting, Sindo. You have my memory."

Sindo repressed a smile, though he reflected it was probably unnecessary. The Naga all wore strips of red cloths over their eyes, which Sindo wasn't entirely convinced they needed. There was no telltale bulge beneath the fabric that would indicate their presence. It gave him the unsettling impression that were they to remove them there would be nothing occupying the sockets. "I do." He withdrew the chain from the pocket of his tailored vest and dropped it lightly into Szensi's outstretched hand. The snakes fingers closed around it at once. He brought it up in front of his face as though to stare at it, though he made no other movement whatsoever.

"Would it be safe to assume," Sindo said after a moment, "that you have my gold as well?"

The Naga snapped the chain into a pocket on the belt that was his race's only other concession to clothing. From a different pocket he withdrew a large bag, which he tossed deftly right at Sindo's hand.

"Excellent." Sindo was pleased, though he had not for a second doubted he would be paid. He had never been shorted by the Makoden. "Could I interest you in anything else? I was able to procure quite a few this time around. I even have more from that same vessel." He had stopped the extraction before it had progressed into the aftermath of his little domination play. He doubted the robin would remember the general orgy that had continued in the stands for the remainder of the night, but his memories of the other fifteen birds using him one, two, three, and four at a time should be intact. He knew Szensi didn't want any of that. His instructions had been, well, nebulous, but he knew where to end any contract, just as well as he knew how to fulfill it. It was almost instinctual. The half-revealed bits of mysticism, the gentle seduction, the complete and utter loss of control, even the calculated and subtle shift in perspective to tinge everything with an edge of foreboding. All tailored with a combination of guidelines and intuition honed after centuries of dealing with the same customers.

"Why?" Szensi's voice was tinged with either irony or suspicion, Sindo couldn't tell which.

"Because you are my best, and I always provide the best for you." The green dragon spread his arms. "Me. The rest are the products of my wolves. All first-rate, of course, but not the best."

"I do not need," the snake said emotionlessly.

"Of course not," Sindo said smoothly, bowing his head in a fruitless conciliatory gesture. "But think of the others, those who do not share your particular...inclinations. I stole more than a dozen from the last place, I have all sorts of nifty thoughts that need thinking. My wolves were busy. I have a great many experiences to choose from. Rape? Violent violation, or just passionate lovemaking? I've got scratches and blood and kisses and bites and strokes. And you know the quality of my emotions: fear, lust, anger, sadness." He dared to stake a step forward, blue eyes sparkling at the silent snake. "Think of the others, my dear Szensi. Think of how grateful they'll be when they see you've deigned to alleviate their needs."

Of course, it was a foregone conclusion that Szensi would capitulate. He always did. Once every two years when Sindo stopped here he gave nearly the same speech, and every time the Naga was apparently won over by the offer to quench his greed. They could easily have foregone the whole charade, but Sindo had a suspicion that the charade was somehow almost as coveted for his Naga customer as the product he was selling.

"Very well," Szensi said after a long pause. "You show me, and then I decide."

"Of course, my dear Szensi. Right this way." Wolves scurried aside as the green dragon led the blind snake to his precious stash, his mind already shaping the memory he'd leave the poor robin with once business had concluded.

THE END