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Bulrush was a town so named after the fact that it held the unique position of being right at the edge of one of the few accessible swamps. The jungle was mostly large trees and rotting stumps, but here and there a few swamps broke through and they were prized, though at first glance it was hard to tell why. Sean had always believed that the swamps were only prized because they were something different then the unending trees and darkened under growth that took up most of the country. Bulrush had been founded and claimed by seven different nobilities that formed a council and waged petty wars and battles with each other over the precious papyrus that grew within the swamps. Strange that a frail plant seemed to become the focal point of so much anger and insults. Yet it was one of the few things that could be made usable from the swamp and it was the entire reason that the city continued to exist.

The city itself looked as if it were a child's construction. The first time Sean had seen it he had been appalled by the fact that the residents seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that it could tumble into the rank thick water of the swamp. The city was partially on dry land, but the bulk extended out on a series of channels and piers that twisted and turned. The streets were little more than sidewalks, while the main traffic took to using small boats and barges to move larger loads. The city didn't have a real shape or even a planned reason that he had been able to figure out. It looked as if people decided to build and build they did. He'd once heard a solider complain that they built their houses out of anything they could get their hands on and the man had made a few jests about sewage being the most probably building material given the way the nobles held their noses up. In truth, every building seemed to have a unique personality to it.

In larger and more civilized places towns tended to show patterns and similar designs. An architect would rise in popularity and for several months or even years work on plans that rose great houses and shops. When he finally fell out of favor another would step up. No architects planned houses here, every last one of them was used in the design of clever contraptions to aid in the harvesting of papyrus and a singularly odd little root called Snakepaw. The latter was rarely spoken about and though all in the city knew it was harvested, Sean had yet to see any shop selling it. The strange root was a powerful drug, a hallucinogenic according to some and to others there were hints that it was used as a way to make slaves more malleable. Both uses were frowned upon, but most especially anything tinged with the foul arts of slavery was seen as barbaric.

Whatever the reason, Bulrush remained a strange and shining jewel on the Great Road. You could find anything here as long as one wasn't too picky about who one dealt with. They catered to soldiers who were out of work and the nobles that ruled here had built great estates on the solid ground around the swamp itself. Each one had their own money at stake and Sean knew his own employer had quite a bit spread out. He suspected he had been sent to gather the dracine to protect her investments, but why she would think the beasts would be able to withstand the swamp he had no idea. Perhaps she simply had the money and the passing fancy to capture them or had the idea to breed them. She hadn't been a noble for longer than a decade or so, but that only added to her allure. He heard Tintalia's name spoken in nearly every bar with various slurs and praises attributed to her. Whatever she had done to won enough favor to earn her title, it was not something flaunted about.

Sean almost felt a well of relief at seeing the strange city again, but he couldn't get it past the dread he felt as he leaned his head against the wooden bars of the lurching cage. It had been three hard days of riding and by the second day he had given up his attempt to remain awake to keep watch on the beast that shared his prison with him. Her sides had grown noticeably thinner in those days, but he dared not remove her muzzle. The creature seemed almost unnaturally intelligent and even to his senses she hummed with outrage and despair. Her emotions flowered his dreams and waking moments as if he breathed them in and out. At times he felt them overrunning his mind so that he was forced to try and peel away the layers of her emotions from his own. The most he could do to ease her was offer her water cupped in his hands, though the touch of her slippery tongue and the way she tried to meet his eyes left him unsettled.

He had little hope that he'd get out of this cage and gather his pay. The most he could hope for was that he'd be turned out and have to make his way back up the northen part of the road to a town that didn't know of his magic. Perhaps he'd be able to coax someone into giving him a bit of work as a guide to at least give him enough money to get through the rainy winter months. At worst he dreaded the fate that could be offered to him. A sharp bite of rope around his neck and a drop from a tree before being burned to ashes. The old ways of killing off the Beast-minded were still prolific enough to make him feel a cold pit of dread in his stomach. He could deny what he was, but that would do him little good when the men he had hired could offer outrageous stories as proof of what he was. If they still had any doubts, well, many a man had been broken my torture before and if they thought he possessed such foul magic they'd have little compunctions at forcing a confession from him. He glanced over at the dark blue dracine who watched him miserably from over her muzzle.

"I suppose I could take your muzzle off, then you'd at least give me a quick end, though not clean." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his gritty sweaty face. "Then again, with your luck you'd be killed off as a man eater. Even if they don't think I'm a man."

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Lathera stared at her fellow captive from over her sore muzzle and let out a sigh. Her sides felt slightly sunken and she had enough of a glimpse of her stomach to know that it was empty and hugging close to her underside. Hunger gnawed at her almost constantly until not even sleeping allowed her to escape it. She almost wished the human would make good on his desire for a quick end and would peel off her muzzle so she could stop his whining. It had started the first night they had shared the cage and when the rest of the camp was asleep. He'd started talking to her so quietly she had to strain to hear him. At first it had been a relief from the boredom of being forced to lay in one place on the hard floor of the cage, but it had rapidly become a humiliation. He didn't talk to her as if he expected her to understand or respond, instead he spoke to her as if she were a dog.

His words and tone always came in a soothing manner as he spoke about his problems and past in much the way a man would speak to a hound. He vented his problems to think about them, not expecting a response. Even if she had been able to speak she found little she would have said to them. The man seemed to wallow in self pity for how he had been born. She knew a little of the beast-minded folks, though much of it had been from legends that seemed to stem from the fact that were either half animal themselves or coupled with animals. From the stories she would have expected him to have wild colored eyes and sharp teeth or perhaps a hidden tail or some token of a fallen animal to give him an understanding of animals. Instead he seemed to not know where his power came from and blamed it for everything from his fall from his family to his mother's death. It was wearying in the extreme. If it hadn't been for the fact he gave her water she might have entertained the idea of knocking him unconscious some way just to shut him up.

She rolled her eye to stare out at the road her cage rolled down and picked out buildings to one side. A city. There was at least hope that she was being brought here to be kept alive. Where there was life there was hope. As much as she hated him, Jathos hadn't killed himself, instead he had waited and found his own escape. It was possible that she could find hers if she were patient enough. If her old teacher still lived perhaps she could somehow find a way to send word to her. Would her old Mistress care what had befallen her failed student? Perhaps it would prick her pride to make sure she was rescued. Though how she could make herself understood was another problem entirely. She knew Sean could sense her emotions, but he didn't seem to be able to hear any thoughts she aimed at him. Whatever people thought of the beast-minded she found it a useless talent. How could they even believe that it was dangerous?

:All people are dangerous in their own ways, some more than others.: The voice brushed over her mind as lightly as cobwebs.

:Who are you?: Lathera sent the words cautiously, though she had no idea where to aim her thoughts. :Can you free me?:

:No. You've chosen your destiny or perhaps fate did. Perhaps you should stop wallowing in the same way your companion is and make the best of it.: There was mockery there and she rumbled a low growl in her throat.

"Sorry, girl, there's nothing I can do. We're nearly there." Whatever reply she would have formed was lost as she glared at her fellow captive. "Hopefully you meet a better end then I do."

Lathera shifted her eyes away from him with a snort of disgust. Anything was better than being trapped and starving in this cage. Perhaps the person that addressed her mind was another shape shifter. If that was the case, then he'd likely see this as a trial that she had to overcome. Was he following them to see what happened? Her kind was supposed to inspire heroes and great deeds. There was a long history of them standing beside kings, queens and emperors as nations rose and fell. Their talents at subterfuge and magic made them invaluable. Once she had held to the hope that she would rise up to create a name for herself that was greater than that of her teacher. It wasn't unheard of for a swift witted shape shifter to become the lover or even wife or husband of their partner. She could have been a queen if it hadn't of been for her own foolish pride. She let out another sigh as she watched the buildings grow closer and closer. Perhaps her answer was here, no matter how unlikely.

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Tintalia watched the slow procession of men and cages from the leisure of her sunroom. The room had been one of her most expensive and most prized creations when she had first risen to power. It was completely enclosed in expensive glass that gave her a clear view of every direction and the roof was made of carefully pieced together stained glass. The pattern was a simple rendition of her crest, but when the sun was at its highest it threw off such lovely colors that it gave the room an almost surreal air. She preferred to spend most of her days here where she could watch her workers and enjoy the beauty ever changing colors that played across her skin. She had furnished it in large thick pillows and silken blankets until it almost resembled the harem rooms that she had known some kings to possess. It was decadently pleasurable to recline on them and know that she was Mistress of everything she could see.

She had once known a harem room much like this, but then she had been a lowly girl kept by a noble for his own pleasure. Unlike the rest of the harem she had ambitions that went far beyond the next sweet treat or gift of jewels. Men seemed to believe that women who gave their bodies over in exchange for trinkets and comfortable rooms were empty headed, and in all honesty many were. She had been the daughter of a whore who had only thought of what coins and gifts she could acquire, but through watching her mother she had learned she would be different. She wouldn't serve in a brothel, but in a noble house. She wouldn't set her mind on the simple gifts that he might give her, instead she set her mind on a higher goal. She would become her own Mistress and to do that she simply had to give her body to them and let the fools betray themselves.

Men were always the most vulnerable after a round of hard exercise. They would lay back sweating and panting before unburdening their worries and woes. She had been eager to sooth them and commiserate with the unfairness of their lives. She had acted like every other harem girl as she cooed and pampered them, but unlike the rest she filed away the knowledge they gave her as greedily as gold. She learned what noble was against what noble, what Duke had slighted his nobles enough that he was at risk of overthrowing and who was next in line for the throne. She learned ugly facts about their lives that they would have never spoken of to anyone save their pampered and eager little body servants. And through that she had learned enough to earn her spot in the King's own harem through a few carefully placed words and the experience of her own body.

Her first night with the King hadn't been spent in a carnal embrace, instead she had cornered him and dripped small jewels of her knowledge into his hands. She had offered him the knowledge of who was loyal and who sought to overthrow him, who stood to gain the most by his fall from the throne and what nobles were hated by those they ruled over. Information she had gathered over the years found fertile root in the monarchs mind as she was summoned night after night. In the end she had had a hand in remaking her country and he had given her enough wealth and a title in exchange for her silence. She hadn't missed the fact that he'd cast her into the farthest part of his realm. Perhaps he feared her or perhaps his Queen feared her, but that suited her purposes, she had no use living in the midst of men she had once serviced or women who knew her past.

"My lady?" The voice was smooth as velvet and held a hint of mockery in it as it disturbed her thoughts. She turned her eyes lazily to regard the man who stood to one side of her sun room out of the colored rays of light the stained glass cast.

"I'm not ignoring you, Rogeth." She stretched slowly and luxuriated in the feel of the soft cotton against her body. "I'm not surprised by your report. The man you speak of didn't keep his secret well. I had a suspicion when I hired him on."

"Then you planned this, my lady? Would it not have been easier to approach him straight on?" Rogeth's voice continued to have that mockery, but the man seemed to delight in making each turn of his words seem a subtle insult.

"Then I wouldn't be his savior. Gratitude is far more compelling to gold, especially when a man has felt an imagined noose on his neck." Tintalia pointed out as she stood up to move towards the window.

Rogeth was a man she couldn't do without. When he'd first shown up in her service he'd been deferential enough, but he'd never really shown the humility of a true servant. He reminded her almost of herself as he always seemed to have the knowledge she required at his fingers. It was through him that she had first invested money and time into an idea that many would have found appalling. Money and a title did have its benefits and the ability to both maintain her secrecy and indulge in more eclectic pursuits was just one of many. Through the last year he'd advised her and given her solid knowledge of things that had been mere legend and myth in the past. Not only that, but he had given many suggestions that had proved to be to her benefit monetarily as well as intellectually. His pay was outrageous, but he was worth each copper.

"Ahh, I see." The man tilted his head to one side. "You don't fear he'll be less grateful once he sees the whole of your operation?"

"He may, but by that time I'll have him securely in my pocket. The man has little left to lose and as long as he realizes that he'll see it's to his benefit to be in my hire. If he doesn't.." She allowed herself a shrug, "The people of this city tend to be traditionalists and I'm sure he won't be around long enough to let slip any of the secrets we possess."

"A harsh, but wise assumption, my lady." Rogeth turned his eyes to look out of the window. "The beast whose cage he rides in could be a prize as well. I'd take pains to make sure that her kennel is secured far above the normal precautions."

"Mmm, that can be taken care of. She? Good. We haven't had enough females brought in and it will make things easier in the future." Tintalia watched as the rattling carts and horses started to pass through the front gate.

"I suspect that Sean purposefully sought out males rather than females. He seemed distressed when he caught her." There was a slight pause. "She could be used as a bargaining tool as well. The beast-minded are often attached to animals and if he's chosen her to place his attachment on then he might do quite a bit to prevent any harm from coming to her."

"We'll see. First I want to know if he'll show proper gratitude, then we'll find out if I need to find other motivation. Anything else to report?" As she watched the cages come into a circle in the court yard she turned away from the window. She'd have to get properly attired before attending to their payment and a bonus to keep their silence.

"Only that Jathos is making headway on his own road still. What he can't buy outright he's been forced to steal. So far the army holds him quite neatly against the coast." Rogeth continued to stare out the window.

"Excellent, it'll keep the other cities and nobles fighting to keep whatever land they have. It doesn't affect us here, we're too far south to both with." The door opened and she sighed at the sight of the darkened passage. Perhaps she could hire on some clever architect to find a way to make the staircase lined with broad opened windows as well.

"Pretty to think so, my lady." Rogeth's voice and the slightly mocking tone followed her as she made her way towards the heart of her manor.

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Sean stared at the familiar courtyard with a mingling of anger and despair. It was obvious the men were going for a bonus in turning him into his employer for his magic. He wondered if they even believed he possessed it themselves or if they only thought about the money they might be able to get if they accused him of it. He moved a hand to smooth back his hair from his face before giving a short bitter laugh. What did it matter what he looked like? He could be decked out in the crown jewels, but he'd still be a prisoner. He didn't have to wait for long before the doors were swung open and the Lady Tintalia emerged with a flourish of dark violet robes and a spill of autumn red hair. If nothing else, the woman knew how to look attractive even if the only people around to impress were a bunch of ignorant former soldiers.

"I thought my eyes deceived me when I saw my hunter within a cage. I see they did not." The voice was soft and feminine with an edge of laughter. "I take it he's not there to check on the health of his charge?"

"No ma'am." Brash's voice was rough and Sean watched as the big man stepped forward. "We found 'em in there with the beast an' indulging in unclean acts. Only just caught him before he could do worse an' dragged him away. Poor beast is under his spell, she went mad tryin' to kill us so we had to bind her up. Damned beast-minded bastard near killed us before we got him behind bars."

"Really? Quite the tale, but why is he still unbound?" Tintalia's eyes roved over him and Sean tensed up a little. Behind him the dracine female let out a snarl deep in her throat.

"Bad luck to touch the beast-minded, they'll take your mind and put it in an animals body." Brash shifted restlessly, "Thought it best he come back an' face up to your justice, since there are your beasts now an' he was using his filthy magic on 'em."

"I see. With no thought of your own reward." The near black of her eyes flashed as she glared at the former solider, but Brash had to give the man credit. He didn't back down or protest that assertion.

"Just what was due to him, for me an' each my men." The warrior glanced back slightly, "Or we can take him to the city folks."

"Hardly needed. Go and see yourselves cleaned and then to the kitchen to be fed. My handlers can take care of the dracine from here and I myself will see to my former hunter. I'll consider your request after seeing the condition of the animals." The woman flicked her fingers in obvious dismissal while Sean hunkered back against the cage.

The men left with a few pointed glances back towards the cages, and soft grumbles. There was little guess on why they were grumbling. There should have been far more reward and gratitude, at least Sean could imagine what they expected. They likely thought his former employer would look upon him with disgust and anger and readily open her purse in exchange for taking him away. It didn't make him feel any sense of relief. Tintalia hadn't struck him as the sort to leave her emotions on her sleeve and for all he knew she was already tallying a reward for turning him over to one of the judges or to the townspeople in exchange for loyalty. The female dracine shifted awkwardly behind him and he heard the rasp of scale on scale as legs twitched against the bonds that held them in place. With the movement came the neck ruffling scent of her musk that no amount of water buckets could wash away with the filth she left behind.

"Interesting company you're keeping." Tintalia leaned down and smoothed the edges of her skirt along her legs. "Though it looks as if it isn't mutual." Her eyes shifted to look at the dracine behind him.

"Let's not play games." Bitterness choked his tongue. "I've no heart for it. There's little point in denying the allegations and hoping for a fair trial."

"Pragmatic of you. No, denying it wouldn't help your situation at all," The meticulously groomed noble looked over him searchingly and he suddenly felt each bit of filth and sweat that still clung to his clothing. "Perhaps we can come to a mutual agreement that doesn't end as wastefully as your death?"

"Agreement?" Sean narrowed his eyes slightly, but then blew a breath out of his nose. "I suppose I'm not in any sort of position to bargain for any better deal, my lady."

"No, you're not. Intelligent of you to realize that. Rogeth, get the handlers up to transfer to beasts to their kennel, I'll be taking our friend here inside to discuss my terms." Tintalia stood up with a swirl of her skirts and the hunter's eyes flicked to the side with shock as he watched the sly faced man bowing towards her. So she'd had a spy slipped in with his men, he probably shouldn't be surprised. Perhaps she only wanted his exclusive services. Was slavery so bad a choice when the other was death? He hoped not.

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Lathera watched as Sean was pulled out of the cage and forced to stand up. She could see him wincing and shifting as he straightened his back out, but he wasn't offered anything else in the form of restraints. Her attention for her erstwhile companion was taken away by the man calling up a handful of leather clothed men with long iron bound sticks that ended in thick looking collars. Her cage door was left open and she writhed in her attempt to get purchase with her bound paws against the ground. If she could only drag herself free or towards one of the bars perhaps she could rub the restraints from herself. She twisted and wriggled on her stomach and side like an overly large serpent as she felt droplets of froth forming on the corner of her scaled lips. She didn't know when to laugh or cry when a man with a thick leather boot stepped in front of the open door and she heard the clatter of metal against wood.

"Heh, no escapin', beast." The rough voice drawled above her before a hand reached down under her jaw and forced her head up. It smelled of animals, sweat and fear. She tried to jerk her head back in reaction only to feel hard rough iron closing down around her neck. "Sir, should I untie it or leave it bound?"

"Oh untie it, I don't want it rubbing those fine scales away. If it's a cull we'll be selling it, if it's not it'll show better unblemished." She watched a man pad along in front of the cages. He walked with all the grace of a noble, though there was something jerky and strange about his movements. She couldn't concentrate on what was off about it though as a knife sliced down near her forepaws.

She'd once been told that if blood flow was cut off long enough the release of the veins allowing it to flow unencumbered into the right channels was worse pain then dismemberment. It had been a world away from here when she had learned the ins and outs of her own body so that she could shape shift. Now she found the reality of how painful it was. For a moment it had been just relief, but then the pain washed through her paws so that she hissed and threw her neck back. It felt as if thousands of needles were sinking into her flesh over and over again. Each movement of her toes compounded the sensation until she started panting and fighting against the collar that gripped around her neck. She twisted and turned her head back and forth while trying to free herself, but the man suddenly shoved the pole it was attached to forward. The hard pole forced the collar snug against her neck and pinned her back against the bars while his knife flashed.

Her muzzle was cut off and fell to the ground allowing her to spread her jaws wide and let out a series of distressed calls as the pain only grew worse when her hind legs and tail were unbound. Her appendages were afire and all she could do was writhe pinned against the cage bars. Not even the relief at spreading her jaws again took away the painful sensations. The handler didn't care about it, instead he gave a jerk that freed her from the bars and forced her to either get on her feet or be dragged. She lurched to all fours and teetered as she was pulled from the cage. She heard snarls and yelp-hisses from her 'pack' and watched as one of the green males lunged at his handler only to have the pole jab against the collar forcing him back. She would have tried her luck if she could have, her legs hurt and she was barely able to walk forward as the man forced her to walk ahead of him.

"Take her down to the females level, there's plenty of empty spots there." The strange well dressed man glanced down at her. "Give her a feed as well, her scales are hanging from her sides."

At least he'd called her a 'her'. It horrified her that being recognized for her gender made her feel an unwilling wash of gratitude. Lathera dropped her head slightly and rasped out a choking noise as the handler behind her forced her to walk along a dusty path towards a opening in the building that showed a set of stares that curved around the corner. For the first time then before she could remember she had to walk up stairs. It was awkward and the man behind her aimed a kick at her haunches as she tried to watch her feet lift up so as not to trip over the sharp steep steps. Though why he thought a kick would coax her to go faster she had no idea. Instead she stumbled and hissed back at him before resuming her careful climb. She'd gotten up the first flight when the poke jerked and dug the poke against the right side of her neck making her turn onto a straw covered walkway that reeked of dracine.

The thick scent of it made her nostrils twitch and her lips curve upwards in distaste. It clung to her tongue and made her lap at the air to expel the scent. It was female, but it was multiplied many times then just her own scent. There were heavy iron grates set into the floor to either side of the path way with a hole in front of them. From what little she could see the holes passage was carved straight down and smelled vaguely of rancid meat. She could hear scales scraping against stone and soft snarls coming from a few of the holes that were covered with grates, but there seemed to be many more empty cells then there were full ones. The man stopped her beside one opened one that was framed by similarly empty cells. She could see bars of light filtering in from outside, but not enough to take away the smells or even see well as she was pushed towards the opening.

She dug her claws into the stone and straw so that she felt the old musty strands gathering under her paws as she fought. The hole seemed like a giant mouth open and hungry for her. It smelled vaguely of old blood and worse death as she twisted and yelped out in a high protesting voice. The entire kennel erupted in answer to her calls as her tail lashed and she fought tooth and claw not to be shoved down into the darkness. Her front legs were lost first as they slipped over the edge and fell down into nothingness. A boot moved to push against her haunches and the stone slipped out from under her paws until she dropped over the edge with a high pitched squeal. The iron collar bit into her neck and dug into her throat until she wheezed and scrabbled her claws against the side of the smooth sanded pit.

She could feel them skidding over the hard side as her eyes bulged and she spread her jaws wide trying to suck in a breath. Her tongue lashed as her body was shaken back and forth for a few dizzying moments and she heard the man grunting above her. Whatever he did she heard a sudden click and the collar went loose as she plunged down into the darkness. Despite her terror she realized that it wasn't as deep as she had thought it was. She fell a short ways and slammed into her side momentarily driving the breath from her body. She struggled her way up onto all fours just as she managed to clear her airway and sucked in a frantic breath. Her tongue coiled up and she dropped her head down panting hoarsely as she felt her neck throbbing from the bruise the collar had left on her. Above her the metal grate slid into place with a screeching sound.

"New female, blue. Kennel seven." The man's voice echoed down to her as she rolled her eyes up to look at the sealed grate. It wasn't as far a drop as she'd feared. It was far enough and smooth enough that she doubted she'd be able to leap up and hook her claws against the grate though. There was the sound of movement above her. "Toss down some slurry and bring up Kennel fourteen. Ladyship will be wanting to see how she's faring."

Lathera crouched in the darkness as she listened to the heavy boots scuff away from her kennel while she looked about in the dim light. It was perfectly round and as long as twice her body length in any given direction. The floor was scuffed and marked up with claw marks from a former denizen and there were pale white scratches on the dark stone where another dracine had scrabbled in an attempt to get out. The only uniqueness of the place was a single heavy sealed drain in the middle of the floor and a hard stone carved trough that filled up the left hand portion of the kennel. There was barely any straw on the ground to make a bed of, but that was the last of her concerns. It was like something out of her worst nightmares. She crouched down and trembled on the stone while she tried to find some weakness she could exploit from the kennel.

She heard the scrape of metal and her eyes jerked up to see a shadow shift above the light that came down from the grate. It was only a matter of moments before the hole above the trough splattered out something foul and coppery scented. It was almost like sludge as her nose worked and tasted old death on the air. Her stomach clenched down in hunger as she tried to push away from the splatter that inevitably hit against the ground. Whoever was above her poured the thick sludge quickly so that it was over in a matter of a few breaths before she heard them retreat again. The hole on the ceiling dripped down towards the trough as she felt her mouth start to water. She could smell meat and bloody, not fresh and warm, but still it was food. The pitiful attempts at gaining nourishment on the trek here hadn't helped, but this might.

Despite her horror of what she was about to do she stepped forward. Her instincts pushed away her desire to shun the bounty, instead the same instincts that had driven her for years came to the fore. Eat when hungry, sleep when not. She could do both here and if she had her strength, she had hope. With a roil of humanesque disgust she lowered her jaws and took a mouthful of the slurry. She could taste organ meat and ground bone as she slurped it up and tried hard not to think about what she was doing. She tried hard not to think about how good it tasted. And most of all she tried hard not to hear the sudden yelp-hiss and clatter of wood and stone and metal from down the hall. The wheezing of a dracine in what she could only assume was being drug out of her kennel. What did they want with her? What could they possibly want with her to create this hell?

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Sean watched Tintalia warily as he sat down at the small table and felt just how filthy he was when he looked at his darkened hands against the pure snowy white of her table cloth. He suppressed the urge to try and rub his hands against his pants. Why should he? They were as filthy as the rest of him. Instead he thanked her softly when she placed sandwiches so small they were barely as big as his thumb in front of him as well as a mug before setting out a fat puffing kettle. He felt like an animal as he tried to keep still under her intense gaze and that shamed him. That shame didn't stop him from making sure she picked up her food first from the plate and served herself from the kettle before he touched the tea. He knew he was being silly, he even tried to tell himself how silly he was, she could have killed him easily in the cage with no reprisals. Still, he couldn't wipe away his wariness.

"So, a child of the beasts." Tintalia lifted her drink to sip the tea again as she watched him. "Eat, I'm not going to poison you. That wouldn't suit me."

"What would suit you, my lady?" He spoke softly, but it sounded awkward to his own ears before he hastily took a bite of the small sandwich.

"That you eat and drink. Once you are filled we can discuss other matters. It's a poor host that speaks business when a guest is hungry." She gestured and leaned back in her own chair, but her eyes didn't leave him as he awkwardly took a drink.

Sean had to battle his own hunger to keep himself from snapping down the food as a wolf might do at the first sight of food. It nearly made him dizzy to eat with small slow bites and taste the crisp lettuce and finely sliced cheese placed beneath the toasted bread. It was a heady experience to savor those tastes on his tongue, but in truth he would have accepted a chunk of cheese and thickly cut portions of a roast. The small tidbits teased his palate, but did little for his appetite as slowly as he was forced to eat. The tea was thick with the taste of honey and herbs, but it paled in comparison with cool sweet water or ale. Worst of all was the feeling that he was sullying her sitting room by simply being here. Everything about him was pale and gauzy. It was rich with gold and hints of wealth, while he felt sticky and sweaty.

Tintalia herself was immaculately groomed and coiffed with her hair pulled back and strung with jewels. She watched him with amusement that made him feel even more clumsy while he ate. When he met with her the first time she had spoken behind a desk in the midst of a room that had obviously been for business. Here, she was standing in the midst of a place that he imagined women came to listen to bards or crochet or do embroidery. It wasn't a dwelling of man, but a place of supreme femininity. He forced himself to eat the last sandwich he dared to take before setting down his cup. His stomach rumbled unhappily at the cessation of food, but he dismissed the sensation. He wouldn't gobble her food down like a common foot soldier, he'd behave like what he had been. The son of a noble.

"Better?" She raised one eye brow eye and he gave a short nod of his head, "Excellent. I must admit, you aren't what I thought you would be."

"You were expecting a wild man from the jungle covered in the skins of animals?" Sean's voice came out stiff as he spoke. "Or did you think I'd be eyeing your house cat with an eye for a wild night, my lady." He added the last words as he spoke, but had to force himself too. What did she want of him?

"Neither. I simply expected someone greater." Tintalia let out a soft chuckle that seemed to send a shiver down his spine. "Before we got so wrapped around in superstitions your kind weren't so reviled as they are now."

"I'm aware of that, my lady." Sean sighed softly, "I'm a simple man. I've no taste for games. What bargain did you wish to strike with me?"

"Why do you do that?" The lady shifted and leaned forward with her eyes brightening. "Why do you speak like you're a peasant?"

"I'm only a hunter and tracker, nothing more, my lady. How should I speak?" He leaned away as she stared at him with all the avidity of a hound on the hunt.

"You speak like a well born son trying to sound like a soldier. A real soldier would have snapped up this meal and drank the tea down to the last drop before looking for more." The noble woman gave a small smile. "You're more then you seem, but that's acceptable. As for what I want. I want your help."

"Help, my lady?" Sean felt his stomach lurch, "Or service without pay? I'm not sure if escaping the noose is worth chains."

"I've never kept slaves and I'm not about to start now. No, I want your help. You'll be paid well, I assure you." The lady shifted back and glanced over his shoulder with a strangely unfocused look. "Do you know I've studied the legends of the beast-minded? There aren't many left, but they're there if you're persistent about looking. Or at least wealthy enough to pay scholars."

"I've read some of it, my lady, but I assure you most of it is very false. The oldest legends have some truth, but very little. I can tell you were an animal is, perhaps what it is feeling, but very little besides that. I can't control them." Sean tried to put the honesty he felt into the words. At least he wouldn't end up lying and getting bitten on the ass later.

"I know that. You've heard of the shape shifters those correct?" Tintalia returned her gaze to him and Sean gave a slow nod of his head. "The oldest legends speak of those who possess the mind and hearts of beasts are rumored to be the first shape shifters. They were able to stride past their human forms into something more. Most of what we know about the shape shifters is colored in legends of their own making, but they never could hide their origins."

"I can't turn into an animal.." Sean shifted a little bit uncomfortably. "If I could, I'd have turned into a mouse and not be in this position. The shape shifters are born that way and they're not...tainted with rumors like me."

"Yes, but they had to be created. And I want to find out how. " Tintalia's eyes shifted to him, "I want your help with the dracine. The first shape shifters were supposed to come from dragons, but we have none. They're the closest thing we have to them, so that's where we'll start."

"My lady, I doubt you can make a shape shifter. If you could, everyone would be one. They're blessed by the gods as the guides of Fate and Chance and inspire great heroes and..." He started to follow the legends he had learned growing up when the noble gave a shake of her head.

"Not all of them. Jathos is one. You've heard his name? He's got the ear of half a dozen kings and he builds wealth and power for himself." Tintalia drew in a breath, "I've heard he's half mad. If a half mad being can begin the start of an empire, what could one do who was clear of eye?"

"You...want to become one?" Sean tried to wrap his mind around the concept. It went against every legend and child's tail he had ever heard. "How can you possibly hope to achieve that?"

"That would be beneficial, but no. I hope to achieve those means, but at the moment my goal is to use the knowledge of shape shifters to capture what Jathos has created. I'll concern myself in later generations about shape shifters. Join with me for a year and if I fail I will give you your pay and you'll be free to go. Your name untarnished." Tintalia's lips curved up in a small smile. "If I succeed you will be a commander in an army the likes of which the world has ever seen."

Sean stared at the noble woman for a long moment. Was she mad? Was she utterly insane to believe that she could possibly create something like this? He had grown up with shape shifters being the polar opposite of the beast-minded. They were good and courageous where the other was a perversion of nature. They had toppled tyrants and crumbled empires with their chosen catalyst. Jathos. That name was hauntingly familiar. He had heard it in many towns as a man who was amassing power for himself through means that no one could tell him about. It wasn't just an army he gathered, but rumor had it that he had gutted several noble houses and duke's of their wealth. Why they hadn't challenged him, he didn't know, but if he was a shape shifter then he shouldn't be able to do any of it. They were creatures that were used and followed the path of who they chose, not one that held complete control of destiny.

"Generations? Would my lady tell me more of these generations?" He spoke the words with a flare of curiosity and interest. A commander in an army, unashamed of his magic. Even if that never came to pass a bag of coins and shining recommendation from this noble woman would see him far. As he glanced up at Tintalia's eyes he saw them flare with triumph. She knew she had him and there was little he could do to wiggle free of the trap.

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