The Games We Play (OLD VERSION)

by spideydance

Anastacia has turned her back on the life she once knew, becoming instead a cutpurse for a duo of cunning pirates. After a fateful brush with the sister Ondore announced dead, however, she finds herself ultimately unraveling the past she swore to forget. Basch/OC. THIS IS AN OLD VERSION. Revised version can be found on the FFN account bleeping-bleep.

10. Chapter 9

Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC

Still alive! Today we ride into the Ogir-Yensa and the Nam-Yensa! Note that I didn't exactly follow the game in that I made up and disregarded some locations in the Sandseas. I twisted the Urutan-Yensa sidequest here, too; the Urutan-Yensa are a lot more involved in the story for this chapter than in the game (you'll see).

ALSO (READ THIIIIIS), to those who read the previous chapter BEFORE March 26, 2010, please go back and read it again :D I added a few more scenes somewhat crucial to understanding this chapter. Lots more interaction with the rest of the cast, too. :)

Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

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Chapter 9

The three young Dalmascans felt much more pleasant the next day; Penelo was spoken with again and all was well. The same could not be said of Basch and Balthier, however, whose eye bags were a bit heavier than usual. The latter's disposition was less than its expected smug while the former was only a little less kind that morning.

"Do you feel, as I do, that they played some game without us last night?" Anya whispered to Fran as they left the Strahl, wiping the sweat that had already formed over her nose. It took eight months of inwardly screaming and wailing to get used to, but she was able to refrain from scratching under her wig.

The Viera nodded, squinting her eyes at the vast expanse of sand before them. It blinded and deafened her; there seemed to be nothing in sight but sand, and sand, and sand, and there was nothing to hear but the wind blowing the desert over itself, folding and flowing, folding and flowing. She thought she saw a red construction site in the distance. The sweltering haze of the morning sun was already beginning to take its toll on her, but she made no mention of it. "It is better to meddle with the inebriated than with a sleep-deprived man."

"Oh?"

"Yes, from what I could gather from an old journal in the Margrace family library," said Fran. "I believe it was written by the emperor's grandfather."

"He must have been a wise man," replied Anya, watching Balthier sigh at Vaan in exasperation before she gasped. "You went to Zarluce without me?"

"No, we stole into the castle when you chose to stay in the Mezzol province. Remember?"

"Ah, yes, they were having a festival then–"

"Whoa!" the non-sky pirates gasped, watching the Strahl fade from sight as if it had all been a mirage.

"Nono isn't coming with us?" asked Penelo.

"He must watch the Strahl," replied Fran, "and notify our associates if we fail to rendezvous on the agreed time."

Ashe glanced at Balthier, who cracked his knuckles and stretched his back. "This come in handy often?"

"It's tough being popular," he explained. "Wouldn't want admirers dropping in while we're away. Well, now, that's as far as she goes. We'll be in Jagd from here onwards."

"Across the Sandsea," Ashe sighed, blocking out the sound of Vaan explaining the nature of Jagd stones to her younger roommate, "to the Valley of the Dead. And to Raithwall's Tomb below."

"Fun for the whole family, I'm sure," muttered Balthier. Fran stifled a chuckle at him and at Penelo and Vaan, whose banter everyone had stopped to find entertainment in.

"Confess it, I'm smarter than you!" laughed Penelo.

"Oh yeah?" Vaan frowned. "Wanna see what they think about it?"

"I wouldn't be so confident!"

Ashe groaned. Fran pat her shoulder lightly. "You will grow accustomed to it."

"Must I?"

"I would think so," chuckled Balthier, beginning for the Sandsea. "It's your sanity at stake."

The trek from the end of the Dalmascan Westersand to the real beginning of the Ogir-Yensa took three hours. There were no rest stops, and Vaan was permitted to drink from the water canisters only once despite his subtle hints about dying of thirst. In order to preserve their energy and water supply, no one spoke any more throughout the journey. Before noon set in, they came upon an industrial area spanning the rocky entirety of the sandsea, teetering on the edge of the moving sand, folding and flowing.

Vaan stopped before the bank and knelt forward. "Look," he said to Anya, who had followed him. "The sand is kind of like…sparkling water. Or a kind of…sparkling juice. Or pudding."

Anya crouched down beside him and watched him feel the sand in his fingers. "Stamina," she said, "is necessary for any sort of game." She slapped Vaan's hand downward when he tried to drink the sand and gave him the canister she was responsible for. "Have some water, but don't tell Tatah I gave you any. He's a bit paranoid about drinking it; thinks we should only do it after battles and important meals. We ran out of water on a mission before and didn't drink for a day and a half. He doesn't want it to happen again, you'll underst–"

"Vaan? Anya?" Penelo called out. Vaan drank as fast as he could and fumbled to strap the canister to Anya's waist.

"Here!" Anya jumped and waved an arm at the others, who had been resting behind a rock for shade. Penelo and Basch approached them. "We were admiring the Sandsea," said the pirate. "It looks even more beautiful down here than it does in the sky."

"It's your first time here, too?" asked Penelo.

"Papa brought me here, once," replied Anya, "my real father, I mean...and he was a worker. But I never really looked until now."

Penelo nodded. "My parents always worked within the city. It must have been exciting! But I bet you were all crammed into a small airship, like most buses for work."

Anya agreed wordlessly, though Basch wasn't as complaisant. "On the contrary. Nabradia was known for its good working conditions. It was a rich kingdom, able to afford to transport its workers in large airships. Often, it lent Dalmasca its resources."

"Oh. So…" Penelo scanned the area and took interest in the tall red structures beyond the sand. We'll pass there soon, she thought. "Where exactly is Raithwall's Tomb?"

"Far to the west," Basch answered. "We must first cross the Ogir-Yensa, and beyond that the Nam-Yensa, before we reach the Tomb. An expanse of land larger still than all of Dalmasca. We must pace ourselves. If you grow tired, we stop and take rest."

"That wasn't what Balthier said before," Vaan interjected, pretending still to be dying of thirst.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me," Penelo grinned, inwardly triumphant that she was no longer embarrassed to be around Basch. "I'm tougher than I look."

Basch chuckled at Vaan's embarrassed expression and replied, "You are at that."

Penelo blushed slightly. Inwardly, she shook her fist at the genuine smiles and mischievous grins she would spot from the men in the party, wondering why she had to discover only now that men who supposedly belonged in dungeons were actually kind and handsome and could sweep her off her feet at any moment they so chose.

"Stamina," Anya repeated, pretending not to notice the pink on Penelo's cheeks. She watched Basch for a reaction to them and found nothing but confusion. Fran did say men were daft one way or another. She supposed this was Sir Basch's weakness. "First rule of sky piracy."

Basch's eyebrows furrowed. "I had thought it was don't get caught."

"…How did you know that?"

"Common sense," said Vaan, "obviously."

"All right, that's enough rest," said Balthier, walking past them and clapping his hands hurriedly. "We're not sure when we'll reach Raithwall's Tomb. Don't waste your energy talking about nothing."

"Second rule," said Anya, following her Tatah, "Quiet, or Balthier will bite your head off."

Vaan blinked. "Do all sky pirates follow that rule?"

Penelo burst into giggles, pulling her gullible best friend along by the arm. "Let's move, mister sky pirate."

As she predicted, their party encountered the red structures after half an hour of walking. Large in diameter, they were cylindrical, with walkways around and connecting them only 12 feet wide, minus the space occupied by the empty crates and barrels that littered the area. It was faint, but the smell of gas clung to the metal surfaces around them.

"Ugh." Vaan pinched his nose after a few more minutes. A set of machines of irregular structure rose along their right. The smell, growing stronger as they grew close to the large building containing them, was starting to put a bad taste in his mouth. "Is it coming from that place? This stench wasn't there before."

"It is a construct," Basch explained, glad to finally speak. He was predisposed to silence, but keeping quiet when he was told to was harder than he had expected. "To draw oil from the ground. Abandoned many years now, it seems."

"Did Dalmascans build this?"

"No. The Rozarrians," said Basch, and though there seemed to be no resentment towards them in his voice, his face soured a little. "Their Empire lies far to the west, ever at war with Archadia. Heedless of the kingdoms caught in their midst. Dalmasca…Nabradia…Landis."

Affected by the solemnity in his voice, no one dared speak, and all made themselves scarce.

"'Tis the small craft's fate: To watch the list of galleons and pray for light winds."

"Vossler!" Basch turned, smiling though in surprise, as it seemed his second nature, to an old friend. "Why are you here?"

He returned it wryly. "Imagine my surprise when, upon my return to Bhujerba, I find both you and the Lady Ashe have vanished. I thought you above consorting with Sky Pirates."

The smile fell from Basch's face.

"Look who's here," said Anya, spotting Vossler when he approached Basch. "I'd wondered if he would catch on."

"Miss him?" Balthier studied her face.

"The way we all miss the Ba'gangsaw, I am certain," said Fran, her ears twitching. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Balthier with an uncertain expression. "Basch…believes you are a man worthy of his trust."

The pirate looked shocked, too, before he replaced it with well-earned conceit. "You act as if it ill-placed. What do you think?"

Fran could not reply. A worse stink had invaded her senses. It was not so much rot as it was death; it was the sun, the desert, and animal, and fury. She could not hear footfalls or hooves but whiplashes in the air, into the sand, and up into the air again. Whatever was coming was sentient and consciously angry, evidenced by furious outcries in the distance, and whoever was with her was in danger.

Balthier placed a hand over hers, knowing her uneasiness. "Fran?"

"We should leave this place," she whispered, so the others would not hear.

"Let me guess: a sandstorm?" asked Balthier, though he already knew he was wrong. They had braved sandstorms before, and a little rash could never distract her this way.

"Something far worse."

"Captain Vossler, too?" Leaning against the wall beside Vaan, Penelo watched Ashe's eyes light up at the sight of the elder Captain. "Who else have you met, huh? Everyone we thought was dead…"

"The Marquis is Prince Rasler compared to that guy," Vaan muttered in reply. "He knew Reks."

"How does that make you compare the Marquis to Prince Rasler?" Penelo laughed. "They said Prince Rasler was the handsomest prince to ever exist in the Nabradian line, and second in kindness only to his father. You saying that is like saying Vossler is an evil mastermind plotting to betray us."

"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying he could lighten up a little. It's not like we don't want to save Dalmasca, either. And he's so mistrustful of Fran and the others."

Penelo took great interest in the men once adulated as heroes before her, so only a statement like that from Vaan could make her tear her eyes away. "You're mad because he doesn't like Fran?"

"No," said Vaan, puffing up defensively, "he doesn't trust Fran, Balthier, and Anya because they're sky pirates. I mean, haven't they helped us this far? They didn't trade us off for their freedom in that Judge's hands, and I know they're not going to do it soon."

"…Don't you think you're putting your trust in them much too soon? Don't get me wrong…" Penelo thought of Fran and Anya, who seemed nice enough, and Balthier and his charm. "I like them. They're nice to us. But they're still sky pirates, and you saw that one room of theirs. It's full of things that you know don't belong to them. And didn't you tell me that they tried to take the Dawn Shard from you just a few nights ago?"

"A lot of stuff's happened since then," said Vaan, frowning. "You don't know them like I do." The Dalmascans and the pirates came together in a clump. Balthier was saying something urgent. "Come on, something's happening."

"Nobody knows them," muttered Penelo, but followed still.

"Looks like we've attracted the wrong sort of attention," Balthier announced, breaking into a sprint. "Let's quit this place while we still can. Move!"

They were too slow; or perhaps it could be said that the obedient Yensa were too swift. Their masters knew their way around the oil rigs perfectly and navigated through the red labyrinth with such ease that Balthier, ahead of the party, had subconsciously begun to slow down in defeat. In a matter of minutes, the Urutan-Yensa fell upon the party. At this point they scattered, Balthier, Fran and Vaan continuing forward, Basch and Anya backed into a dead end with Penelo behind them, and Vossler and Ashe, left behind.

"They are weak," Vossler was able to shout before an arrow went through his shoulder. "They should be!"

"Vossler!" Ashe rushed to stand in the way of the Urutan with a sword over his head. She struck it down, but two more came in its place. With a flick of its tail, the dead Urutan's Yensa sharply cut her skin. The princess did not cry out. "Stay back!"

"Run, Lady Ashe," said Vossler, pulling the arrow from his body. Recovering, he attacked the Yensa that dared touch the Dalmascan princess, only for his sword to bounce back against its teeth. "It seems the pirates have left even their own for their safety, but you will find a true ally in Basch. Go!"

"Not now, Vossler," said Ashe, attacking an Urutan's face with her elbow. She felt part of her skin scrape off, but knew not to dwell on it and readied herself for what looked like an endless supply of enemies. "You cannot leave me now."

The man looked struck for a third of a second before he regained his momentum. "Your courage is admirable, Lady Ashe, but let it not be said that the rightful Queen of Dalmasca died in an Urutan ambush. Please, run!"

It isn't courage that drives me, thought Ashe, and disobeyed Vossler's wishes. Before he could make another plea, a harsh red light came out from the west, crying out and roaring as it floated towards them.

The fighting stopped for a moment to let eyes widen. Casting Cura on Anya and Basch, Penelo shielded her eyes. "What is that?"

"It looks familiar," said Basch, who recognized the hollow sphere raging at them with snapping jaws. "A Bomb…!"

"Wrong," said Balthier, closest to the monster. He, Fran and Vaan had returned with the beast, running for their lives. "A Pineapple – a more vicious strain of our old friend – courtesy of yours truly…and company!"

"I've noticed something," shouted Anya, balancing herself on the narrow railing and spinning around a post to land behind her Urutan attacker. Before she could pierce it with her dagger, its Yensa caught her and rendered her unable to continue.

"They're always after me!" Vaan finished for her, jumping forward and landing on his elbows, barely missing the flames aimed for his pale head of hair.

"Don't flatter yourself," Balthier scoffed, his face just as close to the floor. When there were no more attempts on his life, he turned over and sighed in relief. He had read before that the Urutan-Yensa were fond of casting spells, especially during their ambushes. Somewhere in the battle, an Urutan had done just that, and the Pineapple's rage flared at their race, searching for whoever it might have been. It ignored its long-legged prey for the grey crustaceans in their midst.

Pushing himself up and pulling Fran to her feet, Balthier straightened his clothes out. "All of you, come! The lords of the Sandsea can deal with their new subject on their own."

The party escaped thanks to the wayward pirates, but Vossler refused to eat his words.

Noon came and passed without much delay to their travels. They stopped for only fifteen minutes to eat and then set off again, and there was nothing to do but think and reflect for the next two hours. Balthier thought lunch was too salty; he would take it up with Nono when they returned. Fran thought of hunting, but realized it would attract the Urutan-Yensa and settled for what they had in the pack Basch now carried. Basch was fine with carrying everyone's things, but found himself wanting someone to talk with. Anya thought of dead men. Vossler thought of Dalmasca and where his heart lay inside it. Ashe wondered whose her heart was, if she even had the right to give it away. Penelo prayed for their friends back in Rabanastre, and Vaan realized there was a lot more sand in the world than he had ever imagined.

Vaan's eyes grew accustomed to the sand and the smell of gas in the oil rigs in those two hours. Instead of growing tired, he became alert and was the first to notice a brown figure in the near distance ahead of them. "Urutan-Yensa!" he cried.

The others drew their weapons. Watching the figure come closer on its Yensa, Fran breathed. "It is alone with its pet," she said. "There seem to be none of its kind anywhere near us."

"It could be an ambush," said Vossler, who had just recovered thanks to Penelo's efforts.

"Didn't you hear the lady?" Balthier addressed him directly for the first time that day. "It's alone. Either it's a fool or it means no harm."

The rest considered these words but kept their guards up as the Urutan approached slowly, bobbing up and down upon the sand on its Yensa as if flowing to a soft lullaby. Once five meters from them, it hopped off its Yensa, who stood watch of its position, and hobbled over to the eight with its rough little hands raised in surrender.

Fran stepped forward to meet it. "We take no prisoners," she said to it. "We do not deem it wise to involve ourselves in the affairs of your race."

Ashe was surprised. "You can understand those things?"

"Every other race can," Balthier replied. "Humes are the exception, though one shouldn't be too shocked. We can barely even hear amongst ourselves."

The Urutan let its shoulders slump, but it did not lose its determination. Reminiscent of bad radio reception, a crackling sound came out of its mouth. It took the others a few moments to realize that was its voice. It pointed to the others before turning back to Fran and putting its hands together pleadingly.

"What does it want?" asked Penelo.

"He asks us for help," said Fran. "An old enemy of his race has begun to attack, and he fears it will be the end of them if it is not dealt with immediately." The men in the party thought something of that race dying out completely, but said nothing out of respect for the women. Fran glanced at the others. "Well?"

"You said it yourself," replied Vossler. "It isn't wise to dabble in their affairs."

"But…" Penelo was meek against the former Captain, but continued. "It's the first time anyone's ever asked for our help. Balthier said they were extremely prideful. It must have taken a lot of swallowing it to come to us and ask for help."

"This isn't a matter of pride." Vossler frowned. "It is a matter of time. You would let your countrymen suffer longer for an Urutan-Yensa?"

"Hey!" Vaan stepped forward, giving Vossler a glare. He must have been a good Captain before, but that was no reason or excuse to act that way with his best friend. "Don't…snap at her. Even if they did just try to kill us."

"There is that," said Balthier to the Urutan-Yensa, shrugging. "Humans don't take to protecting those who've made an attempt on their lives, least of all us. The desert heat isn't as bad as you think yet."

The Urutan-Yensa sighed. Basch remembered his first nights in Dalmasca, when a kind Moogle couple had allowed him a place to stay in exchange for working in their stables. The desert lurker's sigh had sounded like a snoring Chocobo. He smiled to himself before listening to Fran's translation.

"There is treasure involved."

Vossler's face took on disgust. "And I suppose that should change things?"

Fran nodded at the Urutan-Yensa as Anya gave a mechanical 'we accept.' Balthier smirked. "Indeed it does."

"You're joking–!"

"They aren't," Basch warned his old friend. Anya would have looked ashamed, if it were not for Balthier's presence. "You forget it is their way."

"I do not," scoffed Vossler. "We release ourselves from each other here, then."

"We stay," Ashe spoke, painfully. "You forget we have no supplies."

"Ah, to rely on the kindness of others," Balthier chuckled, ignoring the frustration that flashed across Vossler's face. "Now," he said to their little client, "lead the way."

A little more than half an hour later, the Urutan led them to a clearing in the desert where the oil rig stopped temporarily. There were Urutan corpses all over, some only partly and some almost completely buried in the sand. At least ten more Urutan-Yensa still stood – with much trouble, against a titantoise that deflected the Urutan-Yensa's strong magic effortlessly. Basch tried not to think of what seemed to be shackles on its ankles. Its shell was a smooth emerald, Fran would later note and lament over being unable to collect. Vaan exclaimed that its head reminded him of a lion shocked, and then quickly frozen, leaving Penelo to ask where he had ever seen something like that.

The Urutan-Yensa looked extremely relieved, and the battle ended almost immediately. The Dalmascans had taken to attacking the exposed limbs of what the Urutan-Yensa called the "Urutan-Eater"; the older Captain was dismayed to find, as his old comrade had earlier, that the pirates were one step ahead of them. Anya stood back with Penelo, ready to heal whichever ally might need it, while Balthier propelled Fran into the air. The Viera landed exactly where she straddled the titantoise's neck with her legs to keep balanced, then, taking some detached steel bowstring from her back, strangled the monster till it fell to its knees.

As its friends slowly gathered round the monster, the Urutan appeared with four Bull Yensa and promised Fran she would receive their reward later.

Vossler sneered at Balthier. "That simply won't do, will it?"

"Nonsense," said Balthier, grinning at the Urutan-Yensa for the sake of his pride. "Our client trusted us; a rare occurrence. We will wait until he can repay us."

"He says he will meet us in the Nam-Yensa," Fran continued. "For now, we must go as far as we can with these Bull Yensa, which can carry two non-Urutan each."

Ashe smiled at the Urutan with genuine gratitude; the Bull Yensa would be a great help. She had said nothing, but her feet were extremely sore. "Thank you."

XIIXIIXII

The natural breeze did wonders for his disposition; he liked to think the nauseating medicine did not. His lower torso was extremely itchy.

The airship had crashed only fifty meters from Kadalu's tribe, in a clearing where the Garif harvested most of their wares. He had considered crashing into the Garif tribe itself, he remembered, only to remember at the last minute that he had the right to take no life but his own. The elder Solidor brothers taught him this in the small time they had lived to be his friends. Perhaps they should have taught their younger brother, first.

Avoiding the half-curious, half-suspicious stares of the Garif as he passed them, Balthier temporarily left the safety of the tribe and trekked toward the airship. He had no reason to worry, he knew; Kadalu informed him of the monsters' apparent dispersion upon hearing the Hume scrap metal – as he called it – collide with the earth beneath them.

He flinched upon reaching the crash site. The airship's stabilizers had bent, the protective covering of the cockpit had shattered, and one of its glossairs had broken off completely. He had thought of walking toward it slowly and then falling to his knees to let out a long, dramatic wail even when there was no one to see his realistic theatrics, but when he saw Fran, he buried the plan in his mind forever. She was inspecting where the detached glossair should have been. As he approached her, he realized she was speaking with someone out of his line of view.

"I do not think it actually has anything to do with stars, Nono," said Fran absent-mindedly, her hands inside the ship.

"Are you sure, kupo? Because I hear that when one finds something incredibly interesting or worthy of praise, one exclaims, 'Astral!' This may be explained, kupo, by the fact that the stars are beautiful, and so upon comparing whatever one likes with the stars, he's actually praising it! I hear that's what the kids are all about these days, kupo. Really!" said the voice behind the airship. Balthier chuckled. A Moogle discussing the localisms of the Dalmascan youth?

"Then it is fortunate you are not a child," Fran replied. "Or you would be subject to saying such nonsense."

"Well, kupo," said the Moogle Nono, bashfully, "I don't think it's that bad…it's a bit fun to say, kupo. Astral…how astra–aaaaaaaaahhh! The Archadian!"

Balthier stopped, his eyes widening in surprise, and watched Nono wildly flail his arms in the air as he raced back to the Garif tribe upon seeing him. Fran seemed unaffected, except for the sigh that escaped her lips. She glanced at him, looking much less accommodating than she had when he first awoke.

"Is there something you want?" she asked impatiently.

Her alluring accent made Balthier think for a moment. "You see, I wanted to…" He panicked and allowed his eyes to travel to her hands on the ship. He stifled a gasp at the blood dripping down her arm from her torn fingers. "…heal you, I suppose?" He came closer and began to chant the spell for Curaga, only to have her cast it on herself.

"Done," she said. "Is there anything else?"

Balthier – and whoever he was before – had never been given the opportunity to be speechless until then. He was in no condition to work on the airship himself, so in implying that his presence was useless there, the Viera was correct. He stood there in silence for a few minutes, marveling at her ability to stump him and his own inability to carry a decent conversation with this mysterious creature.

"Are you daft?" Fran finally asked. He wasn't surprised.

"Not normally, no," he answered, giving her a smile he hoped would redeem his previous blunders.

The Viera didn't catch the humor and frowned. "You forgot to let your wings extend fully and properly before going into hyperspeed. How did you expect to fly without wings?"

The party stopped to rest in the oil rigs that evening, agreeing to stay in only one set of connected structures so as not to have a repeat performance of that afternoon. Vossler insisted that they stay in only one cylindrical post, likely with the intention to keep an eye on all of them, but was ultimately unable to stop the pirates from exploring the buildings as they pleased.

"Curaga," whispered Balthier, Fran's hands in his own. A shimmering white light from him traveled to her bruised and chafing palms, the blood still drying from her encounter with the Urutan Eater. The steel bowstring dug deep into her skin when she had strangled the monster. Once her skin returned to its natural color and the gashes disappeared, Balthier put his lips to her hands. "You did it all by yourself. Forgive me."

Fran laughed. "We have grown too soft, Balthier." She did not miss the embarrassment that flashed across her partner's face and smiled. Stroking his cheek, she continued, "But your concern is much appreciated."

Balthier couldn't help but chuckle along. "Why do you laugh?"

"You had been worried to the point," Fran explained, "that you almost allowed Basch to share a Bull Yensa with Anya. And…I remembered it took you and Nono three months to grow accustomed to each other's presence. He would scream at the sight of you the entire first week."

Balthier understood her mirth, now, and stopped only to watch her. "I often wonder why you do not leave us."

"Balthier, I could–"

"Locke!" came Vaan's laughter. Fran had heard it nearing them, but she didn't imagine the boy would actually pass them. He stopped right before them, though he didn't seem to be aware of their presence, and waved Anya's dagger in the direction whence he came. "You named your dagger Locke! Hahahahaha!" He ran on as he heard thundering steps and a wild outcry.

"Vaan!" It was Anya, running onto the post after him, her nose red and her expression, furious. She stopped before her comrades, too, and ignored them just as well. "I promise to skin you and guillotine you myself if Locke is not in my hands when I finish counting to twenty!" She ran on when his cackling continued to distance itself from her.

Balthier shook his head. "I thought she'd named it after Nono's sister."

"She did, for free Chocobo rides," said Fran. "Nono understands. The dagger is only Gurdy when Gurdy is around."

"Ah…you were saying?"

"Wait." Fran looked over her shoulder. "There is one more."

Basch jogged in after the two pickpockets. "Vaan, Anya!" he called out patiently. "I have finished making dinner. Penelo, Vossler, and the Lady Ashe have already begun to eat. Won't you return?"

"You're too late," said Balthier, wondering if they had become invisible somehow. "They've already gone further."

"Hello," said Basch, hiding his surprise at their sudden appearance. "Dinner is ready."

"So we heard," said Fran.

Balthier watched the man nod and begin to walk off. "I'd leave them if I were you," he called after him.

Basch glanced back at him doubtfully. "You would do such a thing?"

"They are not children, though they act it," Fran agreed with her partner. "It will not be the first time they have had nothing to eat for supper."

Basch was inclined to give that statement some thought; later. "Not tonight," he resolved, and finally left the two to themselves.

"He fights, he babysits, and he can cook," Balthier noted. "Is there anything Captain Basch can't do?"

Fran smirked. "Do you feel envy?"

"Fran, please."

XIIXIIXII

Basch awoke to the deafening black of the Sandsea. When his eyes and ears grew accustomed to it, he looked over to the Magicite they had used to conjure fire. Vaan lay closest to it, his hands over his face, as if that would muffle his loud snoring. The boy must have fallen asleep during his shift.

"Fira," he cast, quietly, then cast a look over the party lying around the Magicite in a circle. Beside Vaan, Penelo felt the magickal warmth and inched closer to her childhood friend. Vossler slept with a hand to the hilt of his sword, ever wary, and Ashe with her hand to her heart. Both looked distressed, even in this momentary repose. Fran and Balthier slept facing each other; the night concealed the Viera's hand on her partner's arm. He was surprised not to see Nono in between him and Fran. They hadn't traveled together much, but he had come to see the Moogle as part of their company already. He seemed to be missing someone, but he was so caught up in keeping his eyes open that he couldn't remember.

"Oh, sky pirates always have milk before we sleep."

Basch's eyes shot open. Anya. No wonder there was an empty space beside him. Did she run away? She had no reason to and no resources to depend on; her "parents" were here, and her sack, too. Perhaps she was sleep-walking?

Basch was fully awake now. Sleep-walking in Urutan-Yensa territory more than twenty feet from the ground – in the evening – could be classified as anything but safe. Standing, he realized he knew not where to start, but chose to track back. In the case that Anya wasn't sleepwalking and was actually traipsing around the Ogir-Yensa in the middle of the night for some reason, she wouldn't go into territory she hadn't already mapped in her mind. He wouldn't, at least.

As the former Captain went on and there was naught but the wind's easy howl and the sand rolling as waves, part of him wished it was Vaan who had sleep-walked instead; the boy would have been much easier to find (or hear). Later he began to hear light thuds, the first of which caused him to jump. Basch was not inclined to believe in ghosts, but there was no scarcity in myths about the oil rigs of the sandseas and how the spirits of the territorial Urutan-Yensa's victims were unable to leave the site of their deaths. He brushed the thoughts from his mind, yet still shuddered, and was extremely relieved to realize that the dull sounds he was hearing came from an elevated, open area directly west from where he stood.

He started stealthily for the sound, his sword readily unsheathed. Just in case, he struggled to remember the incantation to the Holy spell.

There was no need for either. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he found – to his relief or dismay, he hadn't yet decided – a girl. She was dancing. He recognized the ballet she performed in her turns and short jumps; his mother used to dance some of it, and it was popular with the Dalmascan and Nabradian masses. And then he realized, upon narrowing his eyes further and hiding behind the barrels that blocked most of the view she would have of him, that the girl was Anya.

She danced with her eyes closed, and instead of her sandals she wore worn out technique shoes. Even then her pointework was amazing and her pirouette, breathtaking. She turned, changed positions, and extended herself past what he thought was the Hume limit; all with perfect grace, poise, and form, ethereal qualities she showed some of in the day, but usually denied complete possession of.

It was odd. Basch had seen how she could be caring and passionate when they were not in the company of her "parents", but he had also thought her long, wavy red hair and her magickally-induced eyes detracted from her overall appearance. He was utterly overwhelmed, then, with the conclusion something in his mind seemed to have formed without his permission: Anya was – perhaps not entirely physically so, because he could never read into her eyes, and he hated that, but she was – beautiful. He would become a traitor before he could deny it.

He snapped out of his thoughts when she fell and cried out, then slammed her fists against the floor as she took her right shoe off and massaged her foot. She seemed less in pain than she was angry. Basch could not understand why she would be upset over such a thing, but instinct pulled him towards her to reveal his presence.

"Anya," he said quietly, as if speaking in any volume louder than a whisper's would wake the others back at the camp site. "Are you all right, Anya?"

Anya gasped, her first thought being to turn her face to the side. Still, he could see her eyes dart from side to side, perhaps looking for a way out – as pirates were wont to do, he understood – of the questions that would come next. "Sir Basch–"

"You dance beautifully," he said, to get that thought out of his mind. It wasn't exactly what he was thinking, but it came close, and he wasn't lying. "Princess Anastacia once danced as skillfully and as passionately."

A wry smile took the place of Anya's nervous expression. "You would say that, wouldn't you?"

"I am saying it," replied Basch, "because it is true."

Anya shook her head and bore her suddenly intense eyes into his. "Don't you see that I can never be Princess Anastacia?"

Basch gave her a pitiful look and approached her slowly. Taking her hand from her bruised foot, he helped her up. Behind her fake green eyes there was someone real, he saw just now, someone behind the mechanical girl Balthier and Fran had honed into the artful thief, the shrewd sky pirate; the girl with insecurities and imperfections, not just cunning tactics and witty remarks. He did not doubt that she'd allowed herself to become this way, but perhaps he could understand why she had chosen to walk such a path.

"With more practice," he said, "I am certain you could be."

Anya opened her mouth as if to rebuke him for being such a fool, only to stop trying and sigh. There was no use trying to make anyone understand if she would not betray her Amba and Tatah. Just as she looked up to Basch to apologize, the clouds parted. The moonlight reflected in his steel blue eyes, and Anya witnessed his hope and his innocence despite his imprisonment and all the horrible wars he had witnessed in his comparably long lifetime. She felt goosebumps rise in her skin when she realized the warmth of his hand on hers and his breath on her forehead.

His eyebrows furrowed. Anya stood completely still, her eyes glazed. "What's wrong, Anya?"

Thoughtlessly, she leaned into his chest and breathed deeply. "Thank you," she whispered. "Perhaps you're right, Sir Basch."

Basch froze, wondering what could be occurring in the girl's mind, but held out his free hand and placed it gently on her back. He pretended not to feel the perfect fit of her head in the crook of his neck, instead focusing himself on how to ask her to delve into details once more. He didn't even notice the heartbeats he had skipped for her.

They remained in this position for a few minutes, neither one saying a thing or knowing what to think of it. For sure, they would not speak of it in the morning. Balthier and Vossler would have their heads for it, and the others were certain never to stop about it. It was only when Basch felt Anya transferring her weight to him did a sound manage to tear through their peace.

Anya lifted her head; Basch felt his chest grow cold. "What was that?"

"Let us see," he replied. Helping Anya climb the top of the crates she had pushed to the side, Basch looked over the sandsea. He clenched her hand. "No…"

XIIXIIXII

Vaan awoke to the sight of blood and the sound of shrieking.

When the smokescreen of the night settled down and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Basch surrounded by a group of Urutan-Yensa. It was his blood he saw earlier, drawn out when the blade of an Urutan cut his arm.

"Curaga!" He heard Anya cry out hoarsely. From behind Vaan, a white light shimmered over to Basch and illuminated his entire body. His cuts closed in an instant, though there were still marks of them left. "Amba, behind Tatah!"

"By the gods…" It was Balthier, struggling to shake off his sleep and stand. Rubbing his eyes, he groped the ground for his gun. "How did they find us?"

"Your little client wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?" asked Vossler, angrily, fighting off the Urutan from the still groggy princess beside him. "It must have given us those Bull Yensa for a reason."

"Absurd," said Fran, reaching for her bow with a swift yawn. Getting off her knees, she immobilized two Urutan behind Balthier. "That creature had no lie in his eyes."

Vossler snorted. "Do they even have eyes?"

Vaan was still completely puzzled about everything; somehow, the Urutan-Yensa found them, and now they were under attack, but how, and why hadn't anyone woken him?

"Vaan! Vaan, they're–!" came Penelo's cries before she was given a clout to the head. She was being taken away by three Urutan, back to wherever they had hidden their Yensa. No one had noticed before then.

"Penelo!" No one except Ashe, who dove for the girl with her sword raised. She managed to cut the arms off one Urutan, but the others overpowered her and tossed Penelo away to take her instead. The muscles in her legs and arms were still adjusting to the waking world, though her mind was fully aware of what was happening, and she was helpless.

"Your Highness–!" Vossler shouted, but was unable to save her when more Urutan came and tied him down to fighting them.

Ever the fool, Vaan jumped to grab her feet. In thinking to play tug of war for Ashe with the Urutan, he managed to get himself taken as well.

Once they had two Humes, one of the Urutan snapped its fingers noisily, sending out orders with its crackling voice. The rest withdrew and ran off, jumping over the red railings.

"Not that easily," said Balthier, determined. "Fran!"

The two elder pirates ran for the edge of the structure, Fran daring to stand with her heels teetering on the edge of the rails. The Yensa had caught their masters from below; Fran and Balthier shot at them, she keeping her arrows and he keeping his bullets raining at the Urutan holding Ashe and Vaan. The veil of the night, usually their ally, aided most of the Urutan in their escape. There were figures left to be tossed and turned by the waves of the sandsea, but none of them were Hume.

Vossler watched helplessly, running his fingers through his hair and pulling at them in the middle, then threw his fist against the post. "Damn!"

XIIXIIXII

Ashelia awoke to complete silence.

Her head was numb, but as she regained her senses she felt a bump forming against its side, probably from the beating it received from the Urutan who had captured her. The events of the past hour—or hours, had it been? She seemed to have been unconscious for only a second, and then forever—rushed back to her in grim realization, and soon she felt her wrists scathed by the thick ropes that bound them.

Feeling something warm against her fingers, Ashe looked behind her. Behind the post she was tied to lay Vaan, his head slumped against his shoulder, his wrists bound to her own.

"Vaan," she whispered, nudging him as hard as she could with her current position. "Vaan! Wake up, will you?"

The boy didn't budge. Ashe groaned, both at his stubbornness even in his sleep and at the smell of sweat and Yensa manure wafting into the tent they had been thrown into. She diverted her physical self with whims of the mind once she admitted that she could not cut through the rope with her own nails, and her thoughts inevitably brought her to the subject of Vossler York Azelas.

He was a man she had tried very hard not to think about over the past few months, despite working closely beside him to secure the liberation of her kingdom. She had failed, naturally, but was she to blame? Vossler's determination was so reminiscent of Rasler's. That angry, aggrieved spirit, that unwavering passion for his kingdom in his gray eyes so reminded her of the love in Rasler's amber own, to the point, sometimes, that she wished to cry. But unlike Rasler, Ashe knew she could never let Vossler see her weak. His resolve would crumble, no doubt, once he saw that she – rightful Queen of Dalmasca – had not the strength to stand on her own feet. But sometimes, how she just wished to have his arms around her, to hear his steady voice against her ear, sending ripples of excitement down her spine and telling her that with him at her side, there was nothing she could not accomplish.

Anastacia would have hated her for it. And her father, who never remarried even after her mother's death, and Rasler himself. Ashe shook her head, shaking away the thoughts that so broke her heart. Was it allowed to pine when the death of her first love was still unavenged? Or was she to be only a widow her whole life? If she could only be the strong queen she wished to be, with a heart of gold for her people but a stone heart for herself, so she might never need to love for herself again...

Ashe sighed. She was becoming the damsel in distress that pirate girl had so jocosely accused her of becoming, even as she tried to grow into the opposite. Would the others know where to look? Was this the end of her journey?

An Urutan crackled noisily somewhere not far from her.

Ashe laid her head against the post behind her, hoping it would send her senses back to her. Of course she would survive this night. Death, among the savage sandpeoples? Not this fate; not for her. And not for Vaan, she sincerely added later, though she would never tell him. There were still deaths to be avenged; still a kingdom to ransom.

She cursed herself that all she could do now was wait.

XIIXIIXII

Eveyone was rattled by their sudden loss of two party members. It was temporary, to be sure—Penelo thought to herself. The pirates had never failed in securing each other's safety; this was a blow to their pride, their names, and though they could never say it, they felt some worry for the rebel-princess and the street rat.

"How did this happen?" asked Balthier, no longer hiding his irritation as he scratched his head roughly. "When did it happen?"

"It was Vaan's watch, I think," Anya volunteered. "I woke him before going to sleep after my own."

"He was closest to the fire when I awoke." Basch stole a glance at Anya, who nervously turned her eyes back to Balthier every time their eyes met.

"It doesn't matter whose watch it was," muttered Vossler, his head in his hands. Even Basch had never seen him so ashamed before. "She was under my protection. I failed her."

"True," said Balthier, then added, "but don't be too hard on yourself, soldier. Everyone is bound to fail at some point."

Vossler shot him an icy glare. "Not me. Not with this."

Balthier shrugged, as if he had already done all he could to cheer the man up, and turned to Anya as an idea came to his head. "Which begs the question: how were you so energized when the rest of us were groggy?"

"That didn't beg any question," Anya said, sounding thoughtful, but all she could hear was the thump of her heart in her ears. "I…I wasn't able to fall in a deep sleep like the rest of you. When I heard the Urutan shrieking, I awoke immediately and accidentally kicked Sir Basch."

Basch hid his surprise at the sight of Anya's apologetic expression. "Ah—yes. That is how I awoke. We tried to wake the rest of you as they came upon us, as you should remember, but you were sound asleep and there was the battle to think of."

"Oh." Balthier glanced at Fran, who nodded, and stood. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Penelo stared at him in confusion. She had been quiet all throughout, blaming herself for the princess's kidnapping. If Ashe had never noticed her, she would have been taken instead and Vaan wouldn't be in such danger. "What…?"

Balthier grinned encouragingly, motioning for Basch to get his old friend up and moving. "What? You've never heard of princes charming in distress?"

XIIXIIXII

"S…sorry."

Ashe's eyes snapped open. Behind her, she could feel Vaan's heavy sighing. The small fire at her feet had already died, but wisps of smoke still rose to the moon, their only source of light now. It seemed such a long time since she had fallen asleep again. Her throat was numb, but she forced herself to speak. "You're awake."

"It's my fault," Vaan continued.

"Why?" she asked, oddly patient. "I was captured as well. I don't feel there is any need for apology."

"No, it's…it's because I was supposed to be taking watch. I fell asleep, and then when I finally woke up, Basch and Anya were already fighting with those monsters. If I was awake, this wouldn't have happened."

Behind him, Vaan could feel Ashe's heavy sighing. "I see."

He didn't expect her to sympathize with him, but he didn't expect that she wouldn't yell at him, either. Her calmness made him wonder if he was talking to the right girl; if he was talking to the fallen princess at all. "If you had known you wouldn't be able to handle the responsibility, you should have woken me up," she said to him quietly. "I could have taken over for you."

Vaan breathed with some amusement. "That'd be really embarrassing," he muttered. "Plus Vossler would have thrown a fit. You know that, right?"

At the mention of her knight, she breathed heavily again, but meant to forget it, especially in Vaan's presence. "That's foolish," said the princess, "You should know when to ask for help."

Before Vaan could answer, Ashe gave a violent shh and told him to listen, listen for the light footsteps in the sand approaching them. An Urutan scuttled into the tent, hurriedly glancing left and right. The flaps gave a violent swoosh as it pinned them together behind its bony grey fingers.

"What do you want from us?" Vaan hissed the moment it entered.

Startled, it released the tent flaps and jumped towards Vaan, who noted that what looked like its index finger, pressed against his lips, smelled like hemp and leather before he reached out to bite it. The Urutan snapped its finger back. Soon after, it began to emit a familiar crackling sound from its mouth.

Ashe stared at it with obvious fatigue. "We can't understand your language."

The Urutan blinked and nodded in comprehension. Treading softly on the sand, it picked up a stick on one of the crates stacked in the tent and drew figures on the ground before them. When it was finished, it pointed to itself repeatedly before staring at Vaan and Ashe expectantly. The princess kept her eyes on the writing in the sand with some irritation until she realized it was an attempt to write in Hume. Vaan seethed on his side of the tent, surprisingly quiet, while she tried to decipher the figures. They looked barbaric because of the way they were written, but Ashe could make some of it out.

"RMMBR ITR"

"HLP U "

"RTRN FAVR"

"Itter…" Ashe repeated. "Itter. Remember…something. Help you. Return favor. You want to return the favor and help us, is that it?"

A nod from the Urutan.

"But why?"

"The eater!" Vaan suddenly cried out. "The Urutan-eater. This guy was the one who asked for our help!"

Pleased, the Urutan clapped his hands together softly, then unbound the ropes tying the two Dalmascans together. They each thanked him, Ashe giving him a small smile and Vaan giving him a grateful thwap on the back that caused the poor creature to stumble forward. For a moment, Ashe thought she saw his mouth turn upward to form a smile, but he was quick to move and set to writing in the sand again.

"Treasure," she read the next words with some difficulty. "N…n…oh, in. Treasure in Nam-Yensa."

Vaan raised a finger in epiphany. "The treasure he promised us for helping is in the Nam-Yensa?"

Ashe turned to the Urutan curiously. "Where did you learn to write Hume?"

"BZAR"

"TRADE N SECRET FR FUD"

"Wow. When times get tough, huh?" Vaan shook his head.

"…I would think you understood his situation," said Ashe, carefully.

"I do. I'm just surprised even some of these go through it, too."

She had thought he would be wiser to the ways of the world, too, being raised in the harsh undergrounds of a city enslaved to the Archadian Empire, but she supposed living in only Rabanastre without any exposure to its true cruelty had provided Vaan with some shelter. But as Ashe watched the boy gratefully collect his belongings from the sand creature, the memory of his risking himself to shield an unconscious Anya post-Firemane from the careless Imperials bobbed up somewhere in the tides of her reasoning, and she retracted the thought in her mind. Naïve though he was, thief though he might be, his heart was in the right place.

Ashe took her sword from the Urutan and crouched beside the exit. Her nerves were beginning to get the better of her. What if the other Urutan-Yensa were to find them as they left the tent? What if they had gotten the best of Vossler and the others and she and Vaan were the only survivors left? Her mind always rattled her with worst case scenarios – ever since her most horrifying fears had been realized with the death of her father; and of Rasler, and Anastacia.

"We should leave now," she said to their Urutan. "Surely they will notice your absence soon."

Another nod, and, handing her a folded piece of scrap paper, the Urutan shoved them out of the tent as quietly as he could. For once, Vaan didn't complain about being pushed.

"Thank you," Ashe turned around to say, but their Urutan had already skittered back to the fire among all the tents in the distance.

Vaan grabbed the paper in her fist and unfolded it. Surprisingly enough, Ashe didn't react violently. She moved Vaan over to a spot – still hidden, hopefully – where the moon could shine over the writing brightly enough for them to read it: a map of what Ashe recognized as the two Sandseas. Encircled by coal was the Urutan camp, still in the Ogir-Yensa, she noted, not too far from the structures they had been captured from. Could the others find them here, she wondered?

"Since the moon is there…" Vaan mumbled to himself, pointing in all the appropriate directions, "We have to go back this way. I wonder if Penelo and Balthier and the others are okay."

"Let us find ourselves out of this, first," Ashe suggested.

Vaan jumped back in shock, having forgotten her presence completely, but nodded obeisantly and started off for the direction of the Nam-Yensa. Ashe followed suit, much more on guard than her companion. Her knuckles were white against the hilt of her sword, ready to cut down any obstruction to their escape. If only retrieving Dalmasca out of Archadia's hold was this easy…

Ashe's nose crashed into the nape of Vaan's neck as he stopped abruptly, going so far as to push her back a few steps. "Do you hear that?" he asked when she opened her mouth to reprimand him.

Ashe closed her eyes and listened intently. Intense murmuring reached her ears: there was an argument taking place somewhere near them. Her heartbeat quickened by the thousands at the thought of being punished for attempted escape; but she listened again, and found she couldn't hear the slightest crackle.

Hume murmuring. Either there were other non-Urutan prisoners, or…

"This is hardly the attitude we expected of a former Captain of Dalmasca."

"Know, pirate, that Her Highness is the only reason your head hasn't rolled clean off your shoulders."

"Vossler!"

"My, my, we're terrified now, aren't we, Fran?"

"Shaking."

I'm…not an expert at these rescue missions, but shouldn't we be more quiet?"

"Leave them, Penelo. They'll know when to stop. At least, I think Amba will…"

Vaan and Ashe locked wide eyes. "Vossler," Vaan nearly choked.

"Fran and Penelo," Ashe nodded.

It couldn't have been a trap, they knew; not some mimicry the Urutan-Yensa had conjured. Quickly, they rushed out to meet the others. The sudden noise prompted their rescuers to draw their weapons, but at the sight of Ashe and Vaan, nearly dropped them.

"Your Highness!"

"Vaan!"

Vossler took hold of Ashe's arm with a killer grip; she found it didn't hurt as much as the others imagined it to. "Did they hurt you, my lady?"

She shook her head, still barely able to gather her thoughts into one coherent mouthing. "We…just made it out. How long have we been gone?"

"A few hours," said Balthier, sliding his rifle back into its holster, "though to Captain Azelas, it seemed ages."

Vaan, trapped between Penelo's embrace and Anya's snickering, managed to speak. "The Urutan we helped earlier set us free! He says our treasure is in the Nam-Yensa…here," he said, when Penelo let go, "he even gave us a map!"

Vossler scowled at Balthier's triumphant chuckle; Anya, bemused, wondered if this game would ever end.

"Vaan, don't you ever scare us like that again," Penelo scolded, lightly hitting him across the arm.

"Yes, she couldn't stop fretting," Anya added, giving Vaan a pointed look. "Even Sir Basch was worried, you know."

Basch, trapped in his own thoughts, looked up at the sound of his name. "Ah—yes."

"Thanks for the concern," Vaan said, returning Anya's expression. When she shrugged, they shared a small laugh.

"Let's save the festivities for when our lives aren't in grave, grave danger, hmm?" Balthier declared more than asked, and once more they were off, their Yensa leaving no traces of them behind. This time, they did not stay the night.

XIIXIIXII

Wisps of stray hair frayed on Penelo's left cheek, sticky with saliva from her rocky slumber on the Bull-Yensa. Nevertheless, it was a comfortable thing to wake to; a nice alternative to Migelo's hard desk, with an ear stuck between the folds of an encyclopedia and the magick in the lamp beside her about to go out–

"Guh!" Penelo jumped up and blew at a lamp that wasn't there; she received only curious stares for her attempt to save Migelo's imaginary magicite, she soon came to the realization. Inconspicuously wiping the edges of her mouth and spitting out the Yensa hairs that had somehow found its way past her lips, she asked, "Where are we?"

"Almost in the Nam," said Fran, lifting a leg over their Yensa and straddling it properly now that Penelo was sitting upright. Thanks to the previous night's events, Balthier, Basch and Vossler had come to the conclusion that they should keep going lest the Urutan horde catch up with them. There was a little problem with the Yensa pairings again: this time Vossler had completely refused to sit with Vaan as he earlier had. She had suggested the Strahl bedroom pairings, but with Vossler replacing Nono, having him and Balthier on one Yensa was sure to end with one of them left tossing in the Sandsea (at least, in Basch's mind, though it wouldn't have been far from the truth). And so there were Vossler and Ashe, the knight and her princess; Balthier and Vaan, duke and dunce (or maybe—master and apprentice?); Basch and Anya, whom Balthier had, shockingly, overlooked; and she and Penelo, the only pair made of a new acquaintanceship.

Perhaps. She wasn't sure how Anastacia was handling her Captain's presence these past few days. Fran hadn't missed the way Anya called out to him—first, and not them—upon their reunion in the Dreadnought, and she had heard their murmurs in the kitchen the night before, but it was clear the man had no idea who she was; her sister was none the wiser.

Fran knew it was cruel to find solace in that; although, when they were but a duo, before Anya came along and also declared Nono a member of their troupe, she had subtly confessed to Balthier that part of her was content?glad?happy–that he cast himself from his own riches and was with her. He had neither rebuked nor condoned her, but the night that followed was... Fran expelled herself from that train of thought before the others could notice her dazed expression.

"Fran?"

It was the princess who had called her. She rode beside them, her arms wrapped around her knight, who watched Fran expectantly but looked away in irritation when their eyes met. With a nod, she prodded Ashe to continue.

"How do you expect to find your reward?" Ashe asked. "The Nam is a big place."

"Balthier has a knack for finding these things," replied Fran, slightly amused at Vossler's incoherent mumbling to himself. With a rare smile that put Ashe and her knight on guard, she added, "Do you not trust us to find our treasure?"

"I don't doubt your ability," said Ashe, unable to express total disdain for the older woman. She had always been somewhat intimidated by the Viera. "But the Archadian Empire waits for no one. Will this hunt take a day? A week? Do you have any idea what your reward even is?"

"It will not take more than a day," Fran confidently reassured her. "There is nothing here but sand, and perhaps a few structures of ancient descent. For certain, our promised treasure will stand out. Hume and Urutan tastes are not too far apart."

There was a short pause on Ashe's side as she gave it some thought; as if she could do a thing if it took the pirates more than a day. Still, it hurt no one to keep the pretense of having some sort of control. "Very well," the rightful queen of Dalmasca yielded, before Vossler flicked the reins on their Bull Yensa and sped off, "I would that you find it soon."

Penelo, having watched the exchange with no scruples, asked Fran, "Wow, are you really certain you can find whatever that treasure is in just a day?"

"Nothing is ever certain in sky piracy," Fran answered, meeting the girl's inquisitive gaze. "Although I would say that they often come through, Balthier and Anya. And so I do believe we can."

Penelo could only nod in amazement at what she saw as the deep level of their trust. Wishing she and Vaan could read each other's minds as these sky pirates seemed to, she faced the sands ahead and believed, too, that they could find the treasure before the end of the day.

"I wonder what they're all talking about over there," muttered Vaan, watching Ashe and Vossler depart from Fran and Penelo's side.

It was his and Balthier's Bull Yensa that led the group, but since Balthier was steadily focused on driving, Vaan was able to look around at as much as he could. Almost directly behind them rode Fran and Penelo, who talked about something briefly before Penelo rested her chin against the side of her Yensa's horn and closed her eyes again. Directly opposite each other were Vossler's and Basch's Yensa, as if they were intent on staying as far away from each other as possible, but Vaan knew it was just the heat getting to him.

Basch was lucky Balthier was so focused on looking for their treasure, Vaan thought to himself, because if not, he would have caught Anya leaning back against the old Captain a long time ago. It was probably innocent, since Anya was genuinely asleep – he could tell because Basch had to reach over and close her mouth every so often, so she wouldn't wake up in a coughing fit as she had an hour prior – but judging by the look Balthier had shot him when Anya offered to room with him the night before, circumstances probably didn't matter to the sky pirate.

On the other hand, Vossler looked to still be extremely guilty about the kidnapping. The other former Captain had this determined, almost sad expression on his face that Vaan wondered about, but Ashe didn't seem to blame anyone for what happened to them last night, even if he knew it had been his own fault. She had a really tight grip on the raven-haired man, though. Was she that afraid of flight by Bull Yensa?

"Nothing of consequence if we aren't involved," Vaan heard Balthier say, as a late reply to his early monologuing. He wasn't really aware that he had said it so loudly. "You'll learn that over time."

"Or maybe they have a secret and they don't want us to know about it?"

"As I said," said Balthier, releasing a small sigh, as if he had already repeated the statement a million times, "it can't be that important if they aren't telling us."

"Is that another sky pirate rule?"

"Rule?" Balthier laughed. "That's Anya talking, isn't it? She likes some regulation to her games. Much like a script to a production, but everyone knows a true thespian shines only when he shows skill in improvisation."

"Uh… Her games? Thespian improvisation?"

Another sigh. Vaan thought he was collecting a lot of those lately. "You'll understand someday," said Balthier with a shrug, and blocked out any more of the boy's talking in favor of searching for his treasure.

"Do you really trust these people?" asked Vossler, leaning back a little so Ashe could hear him over the growing wind. "These sky pirates?"

Ashe considered her answer, all too aware of Vossler's growing irritation with their lot, Balthier especially. "To an extent, I suppose," she said. "They dislike the Empire enough not to turn us in when they had the chance."

"You speak of the Dreadnought? They needed our cooperation to escape then."

"And now we need theirs," said Ashe, somewhat begrudgingly, if only to match Vossler's tone. "Basch – seems to trust them enough."

Vossler watched his old friend and grimaced. He was allowing that pirate girl he had entered the base with to use him as a cushion for rest while he did all the work? Basch was growing soft. And yet he himself couldn't shake the aggravating familiarity he felt with the little brat. "They freed him from the Empire's shackles, and so he feels he is beholden to them and their whims," he replied with distaste, and repeated, "Basch fon Ronsenburg – always the optimist."

Ashe gave a small grunt of agreement against Vossler's back. He could never know how she envied that rare optimism.

The headwind began to intensify into a sandstorm after another hour of sleep for Anya, who awoke after Balthier declared it too much of a hindrance to go on. They stopped under a den formed by heaps of weathered rock large enough to fit them, and Anya leapt off the Yensa faster than Balthier could turn his head to account for all of them.

As Fran performed a round of Aero spells to draw the sand from everyone's eyes, Penelo crossed her legs beside Vaan. She had expected him to leap into conversation with Basch or Anya as soon as he had the chance, but there he sat, against the wall, keeping to himself.

"Hey, Vaan."

Vaan kept his gaze focused outside the cave. Penelo followed it, but she saw only sand. "Hey," he answered.

"What are you thinking about? You're awfully quiet."

"Just something Balthier was saying earlier."

Penelo sighed inwardly. It figured that he'd be thinking of something sky pirate related. "Okay. Listen, about what I said earlier…"

"Uh…" What Vaan's friends appreciated most about him was that he rarely ever held grudges – against the empire, maybe, and his brother's murderer, Noah or something Basch said his name was – he really was the type to forget and, in essence, forgive, because he couldn't be angry about something he couldn't remember. He had no idea what Penelo was talking about now, but he let her continue anyway. "What about it?"

"I still don't trust the sky pirates completely – I mean, you said yourself they tried to take your steal before, but I think you're right. They're not as bad as Vossler makes them out to be."

"Oh, that. I guess they can get confusing sometimes…" Vaan trailed off. For a second, Penelo thought he lapsed into thinking of whatever riddle Balthier had put in his mind again when he spoke, a little more softly this time. "I'm sorry I wasn't the one who saved you last night."

Penelo blinked. She didn't think he would ever think back on that, or that he had even realized it. Still, she was glad of the fact that it made him somewhat guilty – not having been her knight in shining armor. "It's okay. Everyone was just waking up, and I know you're always the last to," she laughed.

Vaan joined her laughter, and realized they hadn't done so together in ages. "Yeah." Finally, he faced her, a rare thoughtful expression on him, and smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Penelo."

It was Penelo's turn to look away. She couldn't show him how pink she was. "Me too, Vaan."

"…I mean, not that I'm glad you were kidnapped or anything, you know if I knew it'd happen then I wouldn't even have thought of—"

Penelo giggled. "I get it, Vaan."

"Okay." Vaan said with a straight voice; a failed attempt to be sagely. "Good."

"Yeah."

Silence passed.

"By Faram, my neck is aching!"

Vaan and Penelo turned to Anya - taking her place before them - with ready smiles, grateful to be relieved of the first awkward moment they had ever experienced with each other. The sky pirate glanced at Penelo's pinkness and Vaan's lower lip-gnawing. "Did I interrupt something here?"

"No!"

Anya thought of teasing them about it, but took pity on Penelo and shook her head. "If you insist. In any case, I need a massage. But the best masseuses are in Rozarria, you know, and…" she groaned, bowing her head forward to stretch her neck. "If I'd known my neck would hurt this much, I would never have slept at all."

"Really?" Vaan grinned. "You looked pretty comfortable on your Hume pillow to me."

Anya's nose turned a bit red, but she could only narrow her eyes at Vaan. And after she hadn't humored herself at his expense, too! "All right," she frowned. "I won't discuss this with you further. Those creatures clearly hit your head too hard last night."

"What? That doesn't make any sense!"

"Hello," said Basch, crouching down beside them. "May I?"

"Sure," Vaan said as Anya nodded. He flashed the girl a teasing grin. "Pillow—uh, Basch."

"Vaan, you…!" Shooting Vaan a look that could kill, Anya stood up and left to join Fran and Balthier.

Basch looked about himself. "Did I…?"

"No, it was Vaan," Penelo replied with a small slap to the boy's arm, prompting a persistent denial from her best friend, but she only shook her head at him. And just when she thought he had grown up a little…

Basch could only feel this was becoming a routine for him.

The wind didn't die down until lunchtime, when the group finished the last of their real cooked (and re-heated) provisions from Nono. From there on out, Fran announced, they would have to depend on "easy-Firable" food products, which Balthier and Anya declared would give them the worst stomachaches. After cleaning up and making sure not to leave a trace, they set out with the midday sun high above their heads.

It wasn't until after another hour when Fran picked up the stench of death, and fury, and desert, and heard the familiar crackling the eight now dreaded.

"Stop," she said, riding up to Balthier's Yensa as they rounded a cliff face. Since their rest, they had been following a long range of high rocks which seemed to stretch on forever. "I sense the Urutan-Yensa."

Balthier tugged at the reins, effectively causing his Yensa to yelp and stop. The rest followed.

"What's wrong?" Ashe called out.

"Urutan," Fran answered. Penelo shuddered. "We must tread softly and slowly."

"We should ride faster," Vossler frowned. "Or is it your intention that they reach us again?"

Fran whipped her head back, her calm demeanor replaced with irritation. It was the first show of emotion Basch had ever seen from her. "You will allow me to finish. The Urutan-Yensa are ahead of us. They passed us somehow."

"The sandstorm," said Basch, finding himself relieved when Fran's icy stare melted down to indifference when she turned to him. "They must have faced it head on."

"Highly likely." Balthier allowed his Yensa to sail forward once more. "We stick to the cliff side. Follow me."

At this, not even Vossler dared protest. As Balthier instructed, they rode their Yensa by the cliff side, along which shrubberies and a great number of different cactus species grew to hide them from the danger Fran sensed. Minutes later, a large clump of dark brown hoods stood out amongst the sand. At that point, even Vaan could smell the fear the Urutan-Yensa embodied.

A separate row of pillars of weathered rock jutted out of the main cliff, like bars to a prison cell among the sand and the dry foliage. The party approached the Urutan behind these bars, their curious nature momentarily overcoming their fear.

"It's some sort of gathering," Ashe noted, watching a taller Urutan whose fan-shaped head set it apart from the others. It was gesticulating towards its cloaked companions. "Look at that cloakless one, at the head of the group. It's proclaiming something."

"That…" Fran's ears twitched as she spoke, and she only paused to listen to the Urutan's wails. "That is their – queen, if you will. They…have been searching for us. She insists there is a traitor among their ranks, because surely their prisoners couldn't have escaped on their own."

"I'm fairly certain we could have saved them without that one's help, actually," Balthier mumbled.

"Would you like to tell her that?" Vossler whispered in reply, and, for the first time (and last, if Balthier could help it), had the last word.

The Urutan queen called an Urutan forward; the others cleared out of his way like he carried the plague. Only Ashe and Vaan could distinguish him, could recognize his moments and way of skittering forward, now distinct to them. He was their Urutan, the one who saved them despite the risk of his life, and now he was on trial for helping them.

Fran confirmed their suspicions. "She condemns him for asking for our aid in defeating the Eater."

"B-but how do they know it was him?" asked Penelo.

"There were witnesses; some injured Urutan who survived the battle said it was he who brought us four Bull Yensa."

Anya and Penelo glanced at each other nervously.

"There is another charge against him," Fran added. "He trades with Humes. A few of his comrades saw him sneaking off to Rabanastre during one of their long distance raids. He defends himself, saying it was for their race's own good. He says he is tired of hostility and that only through peace with the outsiders will they ever prosper again. They will not listen to him."

"No…" Ashe clenched her fist. "Will they punish him?"

"Death," said Fran, with shocking finality. "In our place. And his own, for lowering himself enough to seek aid from Humes and aiding them in their escape. He dies a traitor, says the queen."

As she said this, their Urutan began to cough and hold his throat in a panic, as if some unseen force was causing him extreme pain. He fell to his knees, but he did not beg for his life.

"We have to help him," Vaan decided. "He saved our lives. We owe him for that, too!"

"That's no trial. That's an execution," Ashe nodded in agreement, and Penelo and Anya followed the two as they moved to get off their respective Yensa. Their older companions frowned, each fully understanding the others, and held them back.

"Sir Basch, what are you doing?"

"Vossler, we must save him!"

"Fran, please, he's helpless…"

"Lemme go, Balthier!"

The adults were resolute, and went so far as to clamp hands over their mouths. The younger ones struggled, but not enough to attract attention. Helplessly, they watched and listened as the Urutan's coughing settled down to a fit of convulsions, and then his cloak fell to the sand, his body dust, as if he had never existed at all.

After warning her subordinates of even thinking of such a betrayal, the Urutan queen left. Like machines, the rest followed.

Ashe covered her face once Vossler released her. Her shoulders shook slightly as she gulped down a sob. The others looked just as affected by the encounter, only they showed it differently.

"Why?" Anya nearly shouted. Anastacia, upon her death, had decided to cry no more. "Amba, Tatah, Sir Basch—I don't understand. You let him die!"

"We could have saved him," Penelo agreed, her voice unstable.

"I thought sky pirates weren't afraid of anything," said Vaan, true to the image of a rebellious teen to his parent.

"This matter isn't sky pirate exclusive," said Balthier, to Vaan and to the rest of his juniors. He had thought that at least Anya would understand. "Had we attempted to save that Urutan, we would have all perished!"

"He died because of us," cried Ashe. "Had he not freed us, they would have let his other transgressions pass!"

"You don't know that," came Vossler's quiet voice. It was the first show of guilt Anya had ever seen from him.

"He made his choice," Fran spoke. "His wish was that you and Vaan live. Had we rushed in to save him, his suffering would have been for naught."

"Why do you sound so sure?" Penelo asked, but her eyes were focused on the cloak that was beginning to get buried in the sand. "You said… you said nothing was sure in sky piracy."

"Whether that holds truth or not, there was nothing we could do," said Basch, almost apologetically. "We would have been defeated by a small band of them had the Pineapple not interfered. How do you think we would have fared against their whole tribe?"

"They had raw power and the advantage of territory," Vossler reasoned. "As earlier stated – we would have died. You will learn as you grow older that you must choose your battles. In some instances, we must yield to the coercing force to survive."

As Ashe wondered when Vossler gained such a mentality, everyone was quiet. The next move anybody made was Anya attempting to jump off her Bull Yensa. Before Basch could stop her, she held a hand up to stop him. "Please, Sir Basch. I'm going to pay my respects."

One by one, the rest followed, until they all surrounded the Urutan's cloak.

"I want to keep it," said Ashe, reaching out to touch the cloak after a lengthy stillness. "No one – not even royalty – is worthy of the life of another. With this…I will always remember that moment of weakness. And I will never allow it to happen again."

Pity flickered in Anya's expression, as well as something familiar – just so familiar – that Ashe couldn't place. "Asheli…Ashe," the pirate corrected herself, "you know it wasn't—"

"Just this once," pleaded Ashe, "listen to me." She shook the sand off the cloak and held it out for the girl to keep in her pouch, but as Anya reached out to take it, a breeze strayed from its westward path. The cloak flew up and dashed behind Ashe, past the cliff that led down to a small valley in the desert. "No!"

"I'll get it," declared Vaan, and jumped down after it.

"Vaan!" Penelo gasped, watching him disappear. The others followed, some in a panic and some calmly (Balthier in particular heaved a sigh), and Fran held Penelo by the shoulders to make sure she wouldn't follow her friend.

"Vaan," Basch called out, kneeling over the edge. The cliff wasn't that high, but the boy was nowhere in sight. "Where are you?"

"I'm okay!" Vaan yelled from somewhere beneath them. He was, in fact, directly beneath them. "You guys have got to see this! Come on!"

Beneath that small cliff was another cave, not unlike the den they had taken refuge in earlier that day. The only difference between the two was that this shelter was filled with flowers—of a particular type. It was periwinkle with white dots, with two long petals that plumed downward after a certain length, and looked almost like any other purple flower with two long petals, if not for the berries that grew in its center.

"Eksir flowers," Balthier whispered in complete awe. He walked forward, slowly, before kneeling beside a clump and stroking its petals almost affectionately.

"Who knew flowers could grow in this place?" Vaan wondered out loud.

"Eksirs only grow in the desert," Fran replied, "but their only known pollinating agents are the Urutan-Yensa – these are costly, especially in the Archadian and Rozarrian markets."

"If only the Urutan-Yensa tend to them, why are there any in the markets?" asked Ashe.

"They were stolen," Penelo deduced. "But to discover a whole garden…!"

"This must be it," said Anya, eyes wide as wonder filled her heart. "This was the treasure our Urutan-Yensa promised us! There could be nothing more valuable in the desert."

"Wow," Vaan smiled in appreciation. "I guess they would make nice ornaments."

Anya pulled out an entire clump and clasped them in her pouch's side pocket. "Not just an ornament. I overheard a friend from Clan Centurio—"

"A friend? From Clan Centurio?" Balthier asked, clearly doubtful.

"Well, Montblanc is Nono's brother…"

"A friend? From Clan Centurio?"

"All right, an acquaintance," Anya sighed. "I run into his pockets every so often. A few months prior, I heard him mumbling about how he could have defeated some gigantic, flying Mark if he'd had these." She revealed a pair of Eksir berries crushed in her palm and subsequently ate them. "Apparently, it's poison…"

"Then why did you just eat it!?" Vaan gasped. "Spit it out, you can still—"

Anya laughed and licked her lips. "It's completely poisonous for any creature that can fly. I'm not sure why…but that's what Monid said. The Bangaa is a luminary in his field."

"Which makes you wonder why he stays in Clan Centurio," Balthier muttered.

"Clan Centurio isn't that bad," Anya pouted. "They just don't resort to the schemes, don't go to the same lengths most headhunters do."

"Are you saying—"

"If you are quite finished…" Vossler interrupted, clearing his throat almost politely. "The Dawn Shard."

"Oh, we're finished," said Anya, having picked all but one flower. No doubt one of the Sandsea's lords would find this place again and grow it into the same haven their Urutan had. "King Raithwall's tomb shouldn't be far from here, I think."

Having nearly left the cave, Balthier turned back. "And how would you know?"

Anya didn't miss a beat. Anastacia was proud. "I saw that the cliff we were following earlier finally stops at what seems to be this great wall. If it wasn't a mirage, I believe it may be the tomb."

Balthier nodded in reluctant acceptance. "Let's move, then."

As the others exited the cave, Anya clutched their Urutan's cloak. She spoke to the den's walls as if he stood right before her. "I wonder if you'll play with my brother there, when you meet the gods in the heavens," she smiled bitterly. "You remind me of him – needless sacrifice. But in the end, I guess you won."

Before she turned to leave, she put on a bright smile, only to have it swept clean off her face when she came face to breastplate with Vossler Azelas.

"C-Captain Azelas," she failed to sound as smug as her Tatah. "What are you still doing here?"

The man stared her down, his gaze lacking the contempt it usually held. It was there, but muddled by confusion.

"I wonder the same thing about you."

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Hope you liked it :D

Thanks for reviewing, cartoon moomba! Glad you like the fic and Anya. :D

Concrit (through review or PM) badly needed and greatly appreciated! See you next time!