It was just like Regh had predicted, only it happened well in the pretty Mori stage and had not waited for the beautiful Mori stage. She had her doubts that there would actually be a beautiful Mori stage, but this what she got for becoming involved in things that were obviously none of her business and well beyond her ken. In spite of his injuries, the daeva set a grueling pace…he certainly wished to be as far from possible from the village when they started to come to. She completely understood that, but every mile he put between them was another mile that Regh would have to cross when he came in pursuit. Why did this have to happen? Why couldn't she have just left well enough alone? What a fool she was… Now she would become one of those empty, used up old women with nothing to show for their lives but a pile of tawdry pretties. But if it kept Regh and the others safe, it was a sacrifice she would have to make. They would be smart enough to run when they woke to find the daeva gone….she hoped.

Dawn came, and finally the daeva paused in his headlong progress, scanning the foothills around him. He nodded sharply, as if someone had spoken to him, and moved down a narrow wash. There, well hidden in the shadows was a shallow cave. Reigh would never find this; even Mori had not noted it until the daeva vanished into it. "Come, girl." He ordered, and she followed obediently. It was dry. Sheltered. Not bad at all. All she needed to do was let the daeva fall asleep, and walk away. She'd conveniently forget where the cave was, of course, she didn't want a repeat of having to rescue him again. And everything would go right back to normal.

He unrolled a bed roll that he had taken, and motioned for her to lay there. She was a little nonplussed that he made it clear he expected her to be on the wall ward side; it meant she'd have to clamber over him to get out. "Warmer for you this way, little one." He explained, and she fought her exasperated sigh. Of course it would be warmer if she was the one against the wall, his warmth beside her. But she didn't intend to stay long enough for that to be an issue. He handed her food, more than Regh could ever spare, and she closed her mind to the fact it had been stolen from her neighbors. Never turn down food, ever. If she didn't eat it, then he would, or it would go to waste. It was good…filling…she was finally getting warm, and very very sleepy.

The child dropped like a rock, and Rasmus snorted a small chuckle to himself. She was not outwardly devious, her intentions to leave him had played across her face at every second. Her spirit was in it, but it was still encased in the body of a child. An ill fed, tired, cold child who had just been force marched a few miles, placed in a sheltered warm spot and filled with food. She'd safely sleep for hours.

"Sleep well, little one." He wished, pulling a fur lined cover over her. It was good and well that she was undisciplined, untrained and unable to hold her body's needs at bay, because he couldn't remain awake much longer himself. He was asleep just moments later, his breathing smoothing out as he gave up the fight to flee farther. He was in Aion's hands now.

She was still dead asleep when he woke, her breathing barely audible. That was fine, it was still light outside and he preferred to move in full darkness. Not much farther and he'd be safe, with people able and willing to keep extra eyes on her when he was unable to. He made a small meal, he felt lightheaded and nauseous, and she was so undernourished that to over feed her achieved this result, sleep, and he needed her moving.

"Little one." He finally reached over to nudge her. She woke like a small animal, blinking and rubbing her eyes. Again, she wore her emotions on her face, equal parts horror and consternation chased each other across her features when she realized she had slept before he had. "Time to wake up. We'll be in Alsig before dawn." He stated, and her expression turned tragic. Poor little thing. "Come here."

She came slowly, warily, kneeling before him where he patted his hand. He took hers, placing one of them on his shoulder and the other on his own forehead, leaning against it. She was a healer. It was instinctive, visceral, especially if he called for it through his own soul. Small sister, blessed by Aion. Heal me, please. Make me able to carry on to Alsig. Aion knows I mean you no harm, that you are safe with me…

She growled rebelliously, but without training her denial of him meant little. She was meant to heal him, and it worked. He could feel the warmth, the easing of his pain, flow from her. "Thank you." He offered, fully comprehending the betrayed stare she gave him. How could he give thanks for something he had forced from her? The betrayed stare stayed when he passed her small meal to her. Hours before he had given her enough to render her nearly comatose, but not now. He was too tired, too…broken… to try and explain. It was just going to be an argument anyway, and he had no strength for any of those.

"Let's go." He ordered, and again she obediently fell into step behind him, outwardly compliant, but he could feel her stare boring into the point where his hair gave into his backmane, willing him harm. "Your chance for that ended when you let me go, little one." He finally broke the silence.

"Chance for what?" She asked.

"Me to go away. Me to leave you alone. Why did you release me?" He knew the answer already, but he wanted her to wonder on it, mull on it. She was a healer, blessed by Aion. Her very existence was devoted to healing and protection. She could not stand by and allow harm to happen to another like her.

"If Regh destroys a daeva, what answer can he give when the god calls him to task for it ?" She asked, and he nodded. True enough. Valid enough. If that was how she was processing it now, that was fine.

"Your brother means to destroy many." He finally said it, and he felt her glare pop like a bladder and fall away. "Are you also a Lepharist? Follow their beliefs?"

Her reply was a long time in coming but he let her have the time. This close to her ascension, she would already be receiving the visions, the dreams, to ease her way. They did not work well with a Lepharist's viewpoint. "I do not believe a blessed gift and duty can be stolen from another and taken up by the thief of it." She finally stated. "Aion chooses what it chooses. That is beyond my knowing how or why. And it's equally beyond Regh's knowing. He's afraid. And he does this because he fears."

"And what does he fear?" Rasmus had heard all points of Lepharist rhetoric. He was just curious which flavor had been the accepted one in her household. Was it the unfairness one? The indignation? Jealousy?

"He fears….feared…. that when I grew up and became lovely that I would be taken away by daevas to serve them. I guess he was right after all."

Rasmus stumbled, and only partially from weakness and pain. That statement hurt, because it happened all too often. And now, he was forcing the man's child sister to come with him…

"Well, sort of." She continued. "He thought it would wait until I was old enough."

Even worse. The only balm that Rasmus had to comfort himself with was the honest belief that he was acting in her best interest. "I grow tired of calling you little one, little one. My name is Rasmus. And yours?"

Another poorly disguised attempt at deception crossed her face. "Moriah." She lied, and he nodded.

"Lovely name." He did not lie in answer. The idea of lying over such a thing confused him, what did she gain by it? No, no gain. That was a wish. She wished she was called such, and offered it up in hope. After a long moment, her face fell and she shook her head. "No. It's just Mori. Nothing so grand or fine for me..."

"If you wish to be called Moriah, then I will call you Moriah." Grand and fine. It was a daeva's name, and one day not so far away, this one would be a daeva. A daeva named Moriah. She would let go of her lesser name the same way she would let go of her lesser self.

"Really? Regh said…." Her voice faded off and he sighed. He could only imagine what the brother had to say about that.

"I'm not Regh. If your heart, if your soul….if your very dreams call you Moriah, then Moriah is your name."

"How did you know that?"

He shook his head. That was nowhere that he wanted to go when he was fighting for every step. Too much breath and fury would be involved in the argument that would spawn, and he had neither to spare on such frivolous things. "Your voice yearns for such grand and fine things." He settled on. When he could get her to Pandaemonium, her world would be full of grander and finer things, but right now he could let her openly claim her soul's chosen name.

He saw lights in the distance, and squinted in the darkness. Yes, Alsig. Bless the shadows; finally something was going his way. Alsig had everything that he needed, food, shelter, a trained healer, access to communications, other daevas, Archons to respond to the Lepharist threat. He glanced at his new foundling, fighting back another sigh. Much as he hated it, it was something he couldn't let go. She might even forgive him one of these centuries. Probably not, but it was a sin he would carry. "See, Moriah. Alsig." Some of his excitement must have bled into his voice, because her grumble was less than pleased. She would not have another day to plot and plan her escape, once he made Alsig, there were others who would help keep watch on her. He could give into the encroaching failure he felt burying him. He could sleep.

"Who goes?" The challenge was sharp, and Rasmus was impressed. They'd been seen far out. The watch was on their toes.

"Rasmus…" He moved towards the lights of the picket, hand on the girl's shoulder, knowing she would hesitate. The watch was calm, secure… they knew him and his voice well. Their nonchalance dropped the moment he became visible, and, judging by their reactions, he must look as badly as he felt.

"Lord Rasmus….who….what? No, do not answer." The veteran at watch galvanized into motion, calling his replacement with a strident tone, and moving close. "We'll get you…." His eyes fell on Moriah, "And the little one seen to. You both seem to be on your last leg. Then we'll work out the particulars."

Sound and sane enough for Rasmus. He was more than happy to let the man lead the way. More than happy to be settled into a nice bed, while the innkeeper rested a fine array of food in front of Moriah. She ate until she could eat no more, with the expected results.

"What goes, milord? You look like you've tangled with death and come out the loser…"

"Your Lepharists seem to have grown claws lately." Rasmus sighed. "A group of them picked me off after I tracked down a Balaur incursion in the area."

The man glared, and spat. "Damned fools. Want what they don't have. And I've run into more than my fair share of daevas who don't want what they do have. No one is ever happy with their lot, it seems."

"Hmmm." That was probably true enough. While Rasmus couldn't conceive of not being exactly what he was, the man was correct. He'd also run into a great many daevas who would just like to go home with their mortal families again and live their short lives for all they were worth. Depressing. Confusing. But truthful. "Seriously, however…" he searched his mind for the man's name and came up empty. He was so exhausted his lips were going numb, but he had to make certain he made his points before he went down for the next month or so. "They're taking daevas. They're using some sort of machine…it feels like my soul was shredded…" His hands were shaking and he glared at them. "Much more and I don't know…." The problem was, he really did know. Much more, and Rasmus would have ceased to be. He just couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. "They may not have found how to make themselves daevas. But I'm afraid they may have found a way to destroy us trying…"

"How did you get loose? If they had you…?"

"The little one…" He jerked his chin at the sleeping Moriah curled up on the floor next to the fireplace. "Drugged the lot of them and set me free." The smart thing would have been to just have killed them all then. But no. He'd never done anything that honorless in his life. And he would not consign the little one to living out the rest of her immortal days burdened with the knowledge that her act to save him had ended in each and every one of her people, her village, and her blood, slaughtered while they lay in the helpless stupor she had put them in. By now, they were awake. Aware he had escaped, and only a fool would not realize he would unleash the Archon's wrath on them. They were forewarned and it was an honorable fight…on his end.

"She's one of them."

"Until she ascends and is torn apart by them." He took a deep swallow of his wine, tasting the under notes of several medicinal herbs stewed in it. "Her family may be Lepharists. Her soul, however, is one of Aion's blessed. A very fine, strong example of that…she must not fall without…" The room swam around him, and he felt the man's hand on his shoulder. "My sister. She must be given over to my sister until I am capable of watching over her. My sister…should not know she is a nascent. The child is not ready to face that, and my sister…would not withhold that. Just let her know that I want the child cared for…as if she is one of my own."

Annlyn would take that statement more literally than figuratively, and he'd have hell to pay for it later. But that would be less strife than alienating the little girl further. He was well equipped to handle his sibling. His foundling, probably not.

"Of course, milord. As you command… I will see to it personally. Sleep now…."

Darkness snatched him away.

Warmth was a rare treat to Mori. Regh had never managed to afford the clothing that would guarantee it, and there had always been just enough fuel to cook the food, but no more. But she was certainly warm now, and opened a wary eye. A fireplace, not a cooking pit, greeted her gaze. An exceptionally fine one, surrounded by intricately carved stonework, with a graceful iron screen. Where was she?

She sat upright, staring around in disbelief. She had never seen, never contemplated, nor even ever dreamed of a room like this one. She slept on a blanket pulled over an amazingly bright, jewel patterned rug. The walls were lined with shelves, and those shelves were filled with books. A great window of a myriad of colored and clear glass panes let in a bath of wan light across the floor.

"You wake, finally." The voice came from a high backed chair, the front of it turned away from Mori so that she did not immediately see the speaker. It was female, that she was certain of. Her stomach plummeted when the woman stood and moved around the chair. Another daeva, this one lacked the vibrant glow that Rasmus possessed even after Regh's attack on him, but she made up for it in the glory of her appearance. Mori had never seen such clothing…such hair.

"You are Moriah, I am told." The woman stated, gazing in fascination at Mori. "I am Annlyn. Rasmus is my brother. Apparently his last request was that I care for you."

Last request? Surely the woman didn't mean what it sounded like she did? He couldn't be gone. If he was, then it had all been for nothing! She had betrayed Regh, after all he had done…

"Last? He's not dead!" Or he hadn't been at Alsig, the last time she'd seen him. But he had looked terrible. He had felt terrible when he had pulled on that part of her soul she wasn't supposed to share with others. It seemed like an odd thing to hide an ability to do good…to heal…but the dreams had been quite explicit. Regh was never to know. None of them were.

The woman chuckled. "Oh, no! He's not dead." She frowned, as if she'd tasted something unpleasant. "Although he is much worse than I've ever seen him come home as. The soul healers have been working with him for days… and that I've never heard of. I'm told he will recover fully, in time."

Good. It had not been for nothing, then. The blessed one lived. Would make a full recovery. Regh was not guilty of a sin on that level, yet "Where am I?" And how far away was home from here? Regh must be worried mad that she was gone, it had been at least two days now…

"Pandaemonium."

Mori's stomach plummeted. Pandaemonium? Surely not. She climbed to her feet and strode across the rugs, ignoring the lovely woman's gaze as she did so, headed for the vast window. "Oh….no." She cried when she got a good look out of them. She had never seen Pandaemonium, but this could certainly match many of the fanciful descriptions what few traders she'd met had shared with her. Such grandeur…

"I know. The dolt insists on living in this part of the city. Why, I'm never quite sure. But his instructions were that you are to be kept here, in his home." She walked up next to Mori, watching the same vista. "Anyways. He's going to be kept in the Temple for quite some time. And I have a rather rude question…"

"What?" She rested her hand against the cold glass. So Pandaemonium wasn't warmer than home, the great house around her was simply that luxurious.

"Don't you ever bathe?"

Mori stared at her out of stunned and hurt eyes. "Of course…" She stuttered, poised between shame and anger. How dare this insinuate that Regh had not done his best? "My brother made certain I had a bath every week. No matter how cold it was." And some of those baths had been bitter affairs that she'd prefer not to revisit.

"Every week." The woman chuckled. "And put you right back into the clothes, and I use that term loosely, that you had on before."

Now, some of Regh's hatred made sense to Mori. Spoiled, rotten, little… This was blessed, and chose to waste that blessing on vacuous stupidity. "Brat."

The woman pulled back, her fine brows jumping for her hairline. "What….did….you just call me?"

"I called you a brat. I bet you never had to take a bath out of a bucket before. And you stand there and sneer at me for having to." Well, the quickest way out of Pandaemonium was to have this fancy little piece of work have her forcibly ejected from the city… She'd probably take some cuffs on the way out, but things were as they were.

She didn't expect the woman's bell like laughter. "Now I see why Ras has decided you're his." She grinned. It was possibly one of the worst statements that Mori could consider hearing at this point, and she dropped into a sullen silence at the thought.

"I just want to go home. Please, lady daeva. Excuse my impertinence…" Regh would go purple at the idea of groveling before this, but whatever it took. "I don't want to be your brother's toy. I'm sure there are others who would be honored…"

The amusement fell from the woman's face. "Toy? Girl, whatever are you going on about? I was told that my brother owes you a great debt, and that, as soon as he is released from his recuperation at the Temple, he will be the one to repay you for it. I was told I am to care for you until that point. Toy… no… Ras is most certainly not that sort. The souvenirs he brings home are a little more…martial… in nature. Swords of fallen enemies type of male ego boosting. And," her nostrils flared in undisguised disgust, "I can most certainly assure you that if, and that's a huge if, he did… It would not be a child like you. That is a repulsive, terrible thing you're accusing him of." Finally, there was a spark, a coal, of something real in this one. "I saw my brother when they brought him in, and the inference was that you helped him escape from whatever caused that. I'm certain his mind was on other things than that, you…you...brat."

"I want to go home." It was that simple. If she was truly here to be repaid, well, that wasn't necessary. A true repayment would be a few kinah for her pockets, a nice coat, a few pounds of dried meat and a quick trip back.

"I don't know where your home is, Moriah."

The problem was, neither did Mori, precisely. She knew the five miles around it as closely as she knew the backs of her own hands, but beyond that, no. "Rasmus and I made it to Alsig after two nights of travel…" Two nights of hard, fast travel. The pace that he had set, could have been ten miles a night. Maybe even more. And in the total dark, there had been no landmarks to judge which way they had travelled in.

"Doesn't your village have a name? " Annlyn demanded, moving to a large book sitting open on a table and securitizing the page.

"Nooo…" Now that it was mentioned, that was rather odd. But then, there had been very few traders, very few travelers at all passing through.

"But Rasmus was there, if you travelled with him from there to Alsig…"

Mori frowned. Under her bow ridden and sweet exterior, this one was smart. A worthy adversary, and she had already given up too much. She could feel the woman putting the pieces together in a mental flurry. "Oh." The woman sighed, shutting the book slowly. "I see now. Your village was what did this to Rasmus. You feel you're being held…because you are. That is something I will not become involved in, girl. That is strictly between you, Rasmus, and probably the Archons. Come with me. Bath. New clothes."

It was the first time ever that Mori had ever had a hot bath, scented with oils, every little hair on her head and the flow of her backmane scrubbed, soaped, and carefully combed out. The woman remained almost stubbornly silent, but Mori could feel the words she didn't say. Things were harsh, and with Mori's insistence on growing straight upwards, at an amazingly fast pace, she was little but skin and bones, colored by an array of different shaded bruises. "My brother is a good man." Annlyn finally broke the silence. "If he believes he owes you, if you really did save him from…whatever that was, then you could certainly be in worse places. It looks as if you've already been in worse places."

"He's going to go after my village." Try as she might, she couldn't fight that realization off. She wasn't permitted to go back, because there wasn't going to be a place to go back to. Rasmus was going to hold her well away from the devastation that Regh's actions were going to bring down upon the village. And no matter how good Regh thought he was, he wasn't equal to a concerted effort from Pandaemonium. "He's going to kill my brother for what he did."

"Do you believe your brother was right to hurt Rasmus?"

"No. That's why I let him go." And cemented the fate of the only people she had ever known in the process. She could feel her chin start to shake, but the more she tried to fight off the tears the faster they came. "And I know, they'll just try it again if they're not stopped…" She wailed, and the woman gathered her up into her arms. She wasn't Regh's comforting presence, but she would have to do.

"Your brother is a Lepharist. Your whole village… Oh, hell. Here. Drink this." The woman released her and moved from the luxurious bathroom, returning with a delicate cut glass carafe. The garnet liquid within was warm, smooth, and chased away the sudden wellspring of horror in Mori's heart. "Time for bed. A real bed, not a blanket in front of the fire for you now that you're clean."

She was taken to a bedroom, with the promised real bed, an amazing work of dark woods and cozy white coverlet and pillows. It was easy to just let go and let oblivion take her back.

Unfortunately, oblivion only kept her for so long. And that night, not even the wondrous dreams came to smooth things over; Mori woke with a full grasp of things gone wrong. Why? Why had she betrayed Regh? Of all the people in existence who should have been able to count on her, it should have been him.

She sat up, already feeling another crying wave gathering. There was a purple dress hanging from the bed post next to her and she glared at it. It was, of course, pretty. Much finer than anything she had ever seen, except for the gown that Annlyn had worn the day before. This, however, was not meant for Annlyn, it was entirely too small. Mori glared at it, but a search of the room proved what she already suspected. Her jumper and pants were conspicuously missing, and she was forced to pull the dress on, or go out of the door naked. She considered it, for awhile, but shyness won out over obstinancy.

Annlyn stood in the hallway, dressed as nicely as before, a pair of shears in one hand and a bundle of blooms in the other. Mori suspected that they were merely a façade, a reason for her to be standing just outside of the doorway while she waited. "Ah, Moriah. Just in time for breakfast." She greeted with a smile and Mori stared back. It was a fine gesture, until her stomach ruined it by choosing that moment to let go of an entirely too audible growl. "You look very pretty today." Annlyn continued, obviously deciding to ignore the glare.

"I thought this wasn't your house."

Annlyn wrinkled her nose, placing the blooms down on the table. "Isn't. It's Rasmus's. I live with our parents on the other side of the city. He prefers here." She shrugged. "However, I am to watch over you until he comes home. That means breakfast." She led the way down a long hallway, and into a large dining room. The amount of food set on the table was more than enough to feed a family of twelve, but there were just two places set.

"So much?" Mori stuttered, and she laughed.

"You are nothing but skin and bones, child. You're bound and determined to be tall, and expend all that energy to get there. Speaking of, how old are you? It's difficult to tell."

Mori shrugged, awkwardly sitting at the chair that Annlyn didn't take. It had always been hard to tell her age, because she'd always been well taller than the other children close to her age. "Eleven." She finally admitted. That always got a long pause, a measuring stare, and Annlyn's response was no different.

"I see."

"I know. There's something wrong with me…" Regh had steadfastly avoided even the slightest mention of it, but there had to be.

"Nonsense. You are what you are. Now eat."

Mori wished she was strong enough to turn away the food, but she wasn't. Others had always been strong enough, but that was her singular weakness. "How is your brother?" She finally asked, and Annlyn's pleasantly stern expression faltered slightly. It was bad. She didn't have to say anything, after that look, and Mori felt her chin tremble again.

"Don't cry, Moriah. He'll be fine. Really. It's just going to take longer than any of us are happy to wait. But my brother's strong. He always has been. He asks about you…."

Likely story. She was full, for the moment, and now lacked even the dubious refuge of hiding behind eating. This was all too awkward for words… "Done?" Annlyn asked, and effortlessly managed to make it not sound like a condemnation of Mori's voracious appetite.

"Yeeesss…"

"Good. Time for shopping."

Mori trailed Annlyn, down the shadowed steps and into the cul de sac outside of the front door. "We'll get into the good part of town soon, Moriah." She sighed, long suffering, and Mori gazed around in confusion. There didn't seem to be anything here that would mark this as a bad part. It was spotless. The streets were cobbled. Great gray stone buildings rose from those streets. Graceful trees drooped lavender blossoms over her head. There were no loose animals, and the air rang with voices and was scented with delectable scents of foods. It was the most fantastic sight that she had ever seen, and this was bad?

If eating was Mori's singular weakness, it was obvious very quickly what Annlyn's was. Every single merchant in the city seemed to recognize her on sight, and was more than pleased to see her. She ignored most of them, however, leading the way through the city and into a shop. "Best girls' clothing in the city." She promised, and Mori's jaw dropped. So many colors, so much fabric, draped, rolled, leaning against the walls and stacked in the cubby shelves lining the walls.

"Annlyn! What have we here?" A small woman came out from behind the counter, her eyes locked not on the daeva she greeted, but squarely on Mori.

"This is my brother's ward." Mori was impressed. Annlyn didn't so much as pause, flicker, or think. She had that well planned in advance; it rolled off of her tongue like she'd said it a thousand times or more. "I'm caring for her while he is unwell…"

"I heard he was doing poorly. Injured?" Again, the woman was talking to Annlyn, but she stalked around Mori like a worg stalked a quoquo. "Ward, eh? Big girl, for all that she's what, ten?"

"Eleven."

"Eleven. Thin as a rail, Annlyn." The woman reached out and picked up the tail of Mori's braid, staring up into her eyes. "And not nearly done growing….up."

"I know. She's got to have at least another three hands in her before she's done."

Another three hands? They had to be insane! Mori already stood equal to Regh's height. And even the blessed daeva, Rasmus, only had a hand or so on her. She really couldn't get much bigger, could she? The tailor only made a slight hummmph noise, dropping the braid. "Well, she's a pretty one. Be prettier when you put some meat on her, at least your family has the kinah to pay for that. You brought her here for clothes?" The stare was unequivocal, that had better be the reason why Annlyn was here.

"Of course. Child came with only the clothes on her back, and I've burned those. I want her to look respectable, Maillie. Rasmus won't bother. The best, only the best."

"This isn't necessary…." Mori floundered over the words, and the woman stared at her through level, blue eyes. "I'm going home soon…" She doubted it, but it sounded right. She certainly wasn't going to keep quiet and just accept this without a word. Others might be so overawed to stand in the vicinity of a daeva that they would just accept it, but she was bred from sterner stock than that. Regh had taught her better.

"Home? The girl isn't an orphan, Annlyn?"

"I'm an orphan. My brother cares for me…" Or he had. By now, that was anyone's guess. "I want to go home. I…"

Annlyn had reached around and grasped Mori's forearm. She supposed it was meant to be threatening, but she felt no threat whatsoever, and glared down at the smaller daeva. "What? I saved your brother. Let me go. Is this his repayment for that? Holding me against my will…" Once the words got started, they seemed impossible to stop. Annlyn had gone pale, a flush rising on her cheeks and she puffed little hush hush sounds that were a meek attempt at silencing Mori.

"Moriah… This is not the place for this."

"Annlyn. Whatever is going on here? Surely you are not holding her against her will….?"

"Maillie." Annlyn sighed in disgust. "You know my brother. Would he do anything wrong like that? Really?"

The woman pursed her lips, staring between Mori and Annlyn in thought. "No. Rasmus would not. And this is his ward…?"

"Maillie. The child's people are Lepharists. They hurt Rasmus, she saved him. It's sad, but now she has no place else to go. Even if…" Her gaze turned to a steel glare, planted firmly on Mori. "The archons do not exact justice for their attack on my brother, Moriah, you made the choice to release Rasmus. What would your people do if you returned to them?"

My brother loves me. But even he could not protect her all of the time, from the village that was supposed to help him raise her.

"Moriah, this is not the time, not the place…." Annlyn gamely tried again, and the tailor chose then to retreat back behind the counter.

"Time for what?" Mori snarled mutinously, and Annlyn sighed, shaking her head.

"Damn you, Rasmus. Moriah. Sweetheart. You are eleven, a mere child, and stand almost as tall as my brother. A fully grown man. And you're not nearly done yet. You'll be much taller. Your eyes, who has that color? The dreams, Moriah, the ones that make you talk in your sleep. The ones where you fly…"

"By Azphel's blessed shadow…" The tailor growled. "The Lepharists have borne a daeva amongst them…"

"That is insane…" Mori's voice trembled. That was foolishness. Stupidity. They couldn't mean what she thought they meant? Surely she wasn't what Regh tore his heart out wishing he was? She'd never asked for this. Never wanted it. "Not this cruel…" That would destroy everything she had….

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm not certain; Rasmus was always more gifted than I in these things… Maybe he just brought you because he was afraid of what your people would do to for freeing him. Either way, your place is with us. If you are a daeva, here is where you need to be. If you are not, then we will not permit you to be harmed for what you did for my brother, and here is where you need to be. Both put you under his…our…protection. If I'm right, and you are a nascent, then it's our honor to shelter you until you fledge. If I'm wrong, then we will discharge our debt to you by seeing you raised to adulthood in safety, teaching you a trade so you can make your own way. We will not dump you away, Moriah. Do not even try to goad me into it." She pulled herself up to her full, tiptoed, height, took a deep, calming breath, let it go, and settled back onto her feet. "Now that we have settled that, clothes."

And what clothes. Mori had never contemplated the array that Annlyn ordered without a second thought. "You can read, I assume." Annlyn sighed, as the tailor packed away what few readymade pieces of clothing that she had that would fit Mori.

"I can, yes." Regh had been most adamant in that point. He, and Mori, needed to know how. Without that ability, the daeva had too much of an advantage over them. So much information, communication, passed them by without that knowledge. If they were to lead, they needed to have access to that knowledge. Otherwise they were just stupid mortals.

"Good." Annlyn delicately plucked up the bundles in her claws and strolled out into the lovely, shadowed day. "One thing that your tutor doesn't need to teach you…."

"Tutor….what?!?" Mori bounded after her, and received an imperious bundle of wrapped packages for her trouble.

"Tutor. Obviously you'll need schooling…."

Rasmus woke slowly. Everything hurt, but it was in a distant, healing way. He was also madly thirsty, and that was what finally forced him into consciousness. "Oh…shadows of Azphel…" he groaned, and was only slightly heartened by the malicious giggle next to him.

"Annlyn." There was something he needed to discuss with her, if only he could remember exactly what that was. He opened his eyes to the comforting gaze of his older sister, and beyond her, a sickroom in the temple. That was not so comforting, and he frowned. "Anya….?"

"Ah, yes, Ras. You've gone and done it this time."

Had he? Maybe that was what he needed to talk to her about… but for the life of him he could not remember what it was. "Anya?" He didn't have to try to get the confused and more than a little weak quaver in his voice.

"Moriah."

Who? The memory hit him like a herd of charging rynoces and he sat bolt upright. "Oh, sweet Azphel…" He hissed in pain, feeling Annlyn's grasp on his shoulders. "Moriah. The little girl… How long…?"

"You've been down for a week and a half, dear, beloved brother of mine."

A week and a half that he had left that poor child in Annlyn's clutches. "Moriah?"

"Is doing juuuusst fine. Really, I knew she would when she called me a brat." She rested a blessedly cool hand against his brow, and used it to push him back into his waiting pillows. "I've clothed her. Fed her. And given her over to Jargen's gentle handling. She's quite lovely."

Lovely, yes. He just hadn't expected Annlyn, of all people, to notice it through all the dirt. "Rasmus…what happened?" She continued, and he closed his eyes under her hand. He had to say it some time. More than once. Only then could it fall behind him. "I had been following a Balaur scouting pair. Decided I could take them… it was either that or let them get away. I could take them…" He opened his eyes, stared at her. "But I couldn't take the Lepharists immediately afterwards. They had some sort of machine; it felt like it was tearing my soul apart. I've died before, Annlyn, this was more. This was worse. I was terrified…and then there was silence, and this small voice calling me daeva. It was Moriah. She'd drugged them all, had the key to my chains, and let me go. When I realized…."

"When you realized what she was." Annlyn pushed after a long pause, and he blinked.

"You know?" He sputtered, and she released the malevolent chuckle again.

"Know? Rasmus! The child is sixteen hands tall now, at eleven! She has golden eyes. She speaks to Aion in her dreams! The only thing she hasn't done is show wings and fly away! It's not as if she is hiding it well at all."

All the more reason to have taken her, if Annlyn could see it. He swallowed down the lump of bile in his throat, and sighed. "Annlyn, I had no choice. I thought when I first saw her that she was. Then she healed me, and I knew…I knew she didn't belong there with them."

She sat on the bed next to him, resting his forehead against her shoulder. "Ras. If they hurt you, then they'd hurt her. It's that simple. She's lovely. She's blessed. And we're not going to let them tear that apart, even if she is their blood. That only makes it worse. And they tried to tear my blood apart. And that…is not acceptable. Do what must be done; we'll pick up the pieces later."

"She's fine?" Well, as fine as she could be. He had few delusions that she was happy with things the way they were. If she had a soul like he believed, then she wouldn't be bought off with a few material comforts.

"Eats like a porgus. Has probably grown two inches since we got her. Jargen says she's smart and learns quickly. Cleans up pretty, dresses up even prettier. She seems like a worthy enough cause. Can't exactly send that back, now can we?"

"No, but…" It was one thing to ask her to watch the girl for a fortnight, another thing altogether to ask Annlyn to help him raise her. And who was he fooling? He was barely old enough to be on his own, what was he thinking to raise a child? "What have you told mother? Father?"

She wrinkled her nose in petulant thought. "The truth. You have a ward. You wanted me to watch her until you are well. You made certain I knew she was to be raised in Crandale, without them. Spun it to make them think you're off on one those prove you're an adult adventures. Swore the child would come to no harm from it." She shrugged. "They were good enough to raise us…. Why not the child?"

The truth was nowhere he wanted to go, Certainly they had raised him, and he liked to think he was a fine endeavor. But Annlyn… no. The thought of another one of those in creation, the thought that Moriah, with that soul, wasted on that level turned his stomach. He loved Annlyn with all of his heart, but one of her was enough.

"She's mine." That, he knew to the depths of his soul. Annlyn's answering stare was disturbing and he growled. "Annlyn. My duty, my responsibility, my honor. I knew at the first moment I saw her that…" He didn't have an answer. What had he felt? That she was given to him, but as a link in the chain that made him who and what he was, not as a prize or a toy. A lesson, insight, something beyond the insinuation in Annlyn's eyes. "I can't explain it."

"You better try, Rasmus." She hissed, taking his hand. "I need something to go on. The talk is starting, and none of it is good. So far, the fact you've been decent and upstanding your entire life is holding it off, but I don't want an investigation…."

"There will be no further investigation, Annlyn." The voice was a balm to Rasmus's crumpled soul, before the meaning of the words even sunk in. The high priest's calm was infectuous, Balder would make things right as usual, hold off the questions he didn't have answers to. "The child, Moriah, is a nascent daeva. Born to a family and people that will persecute her for it. She is a gift to us, a born healer, one of my own… too precious to be tortured to death by a fool child chasing a dream he'll never catch. She saved your brother, your brother saves her, it is a circle true. I will not interrupt its flow. That is the finding of our investigation. Keep her, hold her, and she will do you proud. Now, as for you, Rasmus. You have awakened. How do you feel?"

"I feel terrible." That was the half of it. He didn't have adequate words to describe it. He felt like he'd always imagined mortal to feel, with a good dose of a nasty illness to top it off. "They didn't…succeed…did they?" He swallowed back terror. "They wanted to steal…."

"The divinity from your soul, Rasmus. And no, they did not succeed. They bruised it. They battered it. But you still have it, and you will recover….in time. Now your calling is to raise the gift that you have been given. We will release you tonight."

Annlyn was in a flurry and Mori trailed her in confusion. Everything had to be just so, although Mori was well aware that there really wasn't a just so in this house. It was difficult to put everything in its place when most things didn't have a place. "Damn bachelor fool." Annlyn hissed and Mori eyed her warily.

"This is his house. Things should stay as he wants them." Their hut had been Regh's. No doubting there. Now, of course, Regh did not have the mountains of possessions that Rasmus did, but those were obviously left where Rasmus wanted them to be. So he was sloppy, he was allowed to be…

"Bah. Mother would have kittens if she saw this mess…." Mori shrugged at that comment. She barely remembered her mother, and Annlyn held the elder sibling position that Regh did.

"Why have you no husband?" By now, Annlyn should have married. Moved in with her husband, had a handful of babes, and had more pressing worries than the state of her brother's library. Mori expected the same consternation and anger she would get if she asked that question of a mature woman at home, but Annlyn only laughed in answer.

"Why have I no husband? Because, Moriah, I haven't found one good enough yet. And I have all the time in the world to look. However, we do not have all the time in the world to make Rasmus's rooms habitable…he will home this night."

That was not something that Mori was looking forward to at all. He'd been deathly ill for almost two weeks, and she didn't want to assume he was willing to forgive the actions that had made him so. "You really think I'm a daeva?" She asked slowly. If she was, then she could swallow the argument that Rasmus meant her no harm.

Annlyn paused in her singleminded shifting of a great pile of books. "Moriah. Do you really think you're mortal?"

No. They were correct. There were too many obvious things that just didn't fit. Her size. Her eyes. Her dreams. Her ability to heal. How, then, had Regh missed the obvious? Or had he really? Love blinded? In denial? Or something worse?

And now, what was she? Homeless, now truly orphaned, living off of charity. She picked at the edge of her sleeve morosely. An outsider, as always, and now she was looking at eternity instead of just a lifetime.

"Rasmus will not want a long face like that, Moriah." Annlyn stated, and Mori frowned. Hearing that name was less and less unfamiliar. Was she so easily turned by nice clothing, a warm home, and all the food she could eat? A fancy tutor willing to indulge all of her questions, and when she ran out of her own, gave her his to fill the gap? Was she just a spoiled little brat waiting to happen?

"I want…" She began and Annlyn held up a hand.

"The only thing we're not going to give you, Moriah." She sighed, shaking her lovely head. "You've made that transparently clear. Everything we do or try to do is valueless to you. You want to go home to your brother, live in squalor, barely eat enough to keep yourself alive, and face whatever happens when your brother and his group can no longer deny the obvious. I say no. Rasmus says no. Balder says no. Aion says no!"

Mori sank to the floor, covering her eyes with her hands to staunch the tears. After such a start, Annlyn was probably just getting her wind back, but no, she remained silent. Silent enough for Mori to hear the snick of the door catching behind her. The halting progress of a large body, occasionally supported by the tap of a cane. "I say no to what?" Rasmus demanded.

"She wants to go back." Annlyn muttered rebelliously.

"To her brother?" He came up right behind her, to the point she could see his claws digging into the rug on either side of her.

"Yes."

"Moriah…." He knelt, although she could feel it was painful for him to do so, and she stood, spinning to face him. A myraid of expressions flowed across his face, pain…physical and empathetic, and startlement when he got a first good look at her.

"I know!" She spat. "There is no village left! You told the archons in Alsig, and they went there days ago!" That should hurt more than it did, and that lack of pain paradoxically raised its own pain. She was shallow. Empty. A traitor, and it didn't even really bother her. Only Regh haunted her, the rest of them deserved every moment that they got….

"Yes."

"So I have no home! I have no brother! I have nothing!" Such melodrama. Regh would be disgusted…

"You have a home, here. And, according to the reports I received, your brother was not amongst those captured, so I am assuming he escaped. You have what you have always had, Moriah. Yourself, your soul, your heart. It has always been the most precious gift you have ever had. Stand with it, use it, against the real danger…the Balaur." She heard Annlyn's indrawn breath, but Rasmus ignored his sister's response. "Forget the petty squabbles…who has what. You have what you were gifted with, and that is to stand in the breach. Rise above what your brother tried to teach you, he's blinded by envy…"

"Rasmus! No…"

"Rasmus, no." He sighed, on the edge of mockery. "What, Annlyn. Don't tell her she made to stand in the darkness, because when you looked there, you blinked? You turned away? A great, blessed gift, who shops her days away, worries about how many plates a single person needs on a table and arranges pretty flowers?"

"Yet I am the one you gave Moriah to when you were not capable of being there. Is it so wrong to care for those who do stand in those shadows, Ras? Not as a healer on the field of battle, but as the one who keeps the houses running while you fight? Who tends to everything when you come limping back, mauled, with a bitterly unhappy nascent dragging on your mane?

Mori could feel his exhaustion…couldn't Annlyn see it? She took a step closer, delving into that part of herself that she only touched in the dreams. He paused, wavering on his feet, then smiled at her. "Thank you, little one. Although I feel my sister is right, you've grown since you've gotten here. Almost as tall as I am."

"Bed." She commanded, and he raised a brow at her, his green eyes measuring. "Yes, dear priest, yes." He agreed after a momentary pause. "I will rest. And argue with my sister, when I am better able to." She trailed after him as he limped into the hallway, stopping at a door she had never opened before. "Mori." He sighed, "Things will be better. I promise. Both you and I need to heal our wounds…together. I found that when I dreamed."