A story on her lips

-o0O0o-

He pressed the blade tight at the Wothan's throat. "Keith Torrence," he whispered probing and promptly felt the old pawnbroker go rigid. "He's still alive?"
And that answer was Typical for Zeb, but helped him not one bit. So, he moved the knife higher, deeper into the fleshy bits. "I seriously have no Idea where he is. We haven't spoken in years!"
Ah, better. "Lies," he hissed.
"I have no Idea where he is," Zeb insisted.
"A third of the Bounty," he prompted in a final test.
"And yet, I have no Idea," Zeb hissed back.
"Good," Keith admitted and let go, before deactivating the voice distorter.

Zeb whirled around, took a good look at him and then slapped him, slashing open his cheek with sharp claws. "Asshole."
He then locked up the door and closed the lids before ushering him into the backroom.
"Deesix sent four sisters of the deviant moon after me," Keith apologized.
Zeeb cursed violently. "I see. You look like shit."
"I need your help."
You won't drag me into this, Torrence."
"I didn't even tell you-"
"Fifteen, Torrence. That's all I need to hear."
"Fifteen Thousand," he asked hopefully, which immediately got smashed bIy Zeb's glare. "Fifteen Million."

"Fifteen Million," he spluttered, then cursed. "Last time I checked it had only been two."
"And you're wondering why Deesix would rattle you out? I am losing sleep debating to sack your had. You're lucky I have a conscience."
"You. A conscience."
"I'm borrowing my hard-earned money to people in exchange for worthless stuff. Of course, I do."
Keith smiled. He had missed the old geezer. "One more reason for me to find out why."

"Sorry. Did you just tell me, you don't even know why Aivex is hunting you for three years straight through the whole universe?"
"Because of this," he dropped the ornate wooden box on the counter. "And I want to know exactly what the fuck this is. Now more than ever. Zeb, please?"
Zeb looked like he had dropped some slimy innards before him, then sighed. "What even prompted you to piss of him, of all people."
"I never thought he'd react that badly. It was some small fortuneteller wanting something back his minions had stolen from her. It was supposed to be a coup of four, maybe five days with a laugh in the end. You know how amused Aivex normally is with people who steal back stolen stuff from him. I had more than one dinner with him leaving me of the hook afterwards with the goods."
"Maybe he finally had enough?"
"No. It's that thing. Should have known there's more to it with the payment."
"That good?"

Keith didn't answer. It was possibly the last straw for Zeb's loyalty if he should know. Or not. He had everything he wished for. But better not risk it. Deesix's treason still was too fresh.
"It's a book," he steered the conversation in saver waters. "Can't open it, I tried. But the scans say so."
"You are really breaking a contract." Zeb sounded more surprised than disappointed. After all, it was him who taught Keith the finer arts of a trade, the business etiquette which turned him into one of the most recommended bounty hunters under Eyssovax.

"Fifteen million," Keith reminded his old mentor. That seemed to convince him, because he grabbed his protection gear and his magnifying glasses to take a closer look.
And got enraveled. "Reltorian? That looks definitely like Boa-wood and that's a riddle look if I've ever seen one. Definitely a curiosity. Even if- You tried to open it?"
"Said so."
"Then better pray that not all your luck is gone. Those tend to self-destruct with the wrong movements. Not a bomb, but usually acid or inflammable gas that reacts as soon you'll open it, destroying the contents."
"Oh come on!"
Of course.

Of course, there probably was a self-destruction device! "The scans didn't show anything like that. Can you open it."
"That's a hell lot of trust coming from a person having a bounty of Fifteen million on their head. Let me see."
It was just a quip, but it was true. And they both knew. Keith was so screwed if this went wrong.

No.
That was Zeb, Zebastian! The only person h could still trust not to turn on him.
Keith watched how he picked up tweezers and started to carefully move the tiles on the top around in a complicated pattern. Curious, yes. "How-"

"Shush. Squee! Releltorian riddle lock, twenty-first dynasty, fourth level, third sequence. 73 or 79."
"79," the melodic voce of the Lecha sung back from somewhere upstairs.
So, that bird still lived with him. Good.

Zeb grunted and continued to move the ties around, unlocking two more layers until the last one slid back to reveal deep wine red. Zeeb whistled and changed into soft gloves. "Look at that beauty. Yes. I think, I start to understand why Aivex wants that back."
Keith narrowed his eyes once Zeb had brought the tome out of his box. "Is that-"
"Yrex-skin? Yes. Finest leather in the Galaxy. And that's definitely cellulose, which narrows it down to thirty-seven species. Look at that!"
Keith hadn't seen him this exited since – since he got him his shop back.
"Yes, Aivex definitely wants this back, the material alone is thirty-seven thousand. And we haven't even read it."
"The value rises with what's written in it?"
Zeb shoot him a resignated look. "I know your culture doesn't need written words. But this is a Book. Not some data chip or flimsy-file. Somebody honored the content enough to bound it in those expensive materials."
"And people are killing for it?!
"They tend to contain ideas," Zeb wiggled his ears.

Keith laughed. "Ok. And what ideas contain this one? Because it's probably the deadliest one."
Zeb's happiness disappeared. "I have no idea." He flipped through the pages, showing the scrawling to the bounty hunter. "That script don't matches any cultures using cellulose. I first guessed human, but the letters are wrong if you look closer. See that flow there? Could be Galthea from Beltax, could be Hindi from Sol III. No idea. Squee, do you have a second?"
The Lecha slid through the curtain hiding the stairs and instantly his feathers bristled and took the colour palette of his surroundings. They eyed Keith warily.
"He who calls himself Keith Torrence."
"Master Se'queez:a." Keith greeted in return. "It's been a while."
"Life-time has passed," Squee acknowledged. "Zebastian?"

Zeb carefully placed the book in a pillow, using it as a book cradle. "Can you read that?"
Dutiful they bent closer and instantly recoiled, feathers perfecty camouflaged and nearly invisible, if you didn't knew their former position. Their voice was barely audible.
"What time-place came you to care-protect this!"

It was damn hard to scare a Lecha into invisibly, only the flying predators of their home world were able to accomplish this once. They were one of the most resilient long living species in the known universe and not called the archivists of the universe for no reason. They remembered things sometimes time itself has forgotten, or so people said. You would find at least one on every somewhat relevant planet, meticulously collecting knowledge and history. Looked like that book really was worth its trouble.

"I needed to… acquire it for a client."
"The Storyteller?"
Keith's mouth went dry. "Sorry?"
"The Storyteller. You have to bring back-steal it for her."
"The Story- No! Why would you think that."
"It's gallifreyan."
"Doesn't that look more like-"
Zeb's protest died down when Squee flipped another page open, full of circles, dots and lines and sketches looking like a tube with… something. "Ok. Galllifreyan."
"Lower gallifeyan," Squee confirmed. "Everyday script. Not circular or high tongue. A journal. Letters to a loved one, collected and bound because there was no way-chance to deliver-sent them."
"Beningmeer-Journals," whispered Zeb and suddenly everything made sense.

Aivex from Rejv and the Lady Storyteller fought a downright war about any gallifreyan artifact out there.
It was their conflict reviving some of the myths about the planet that technically couldn't be remembered, because for all everyone knows, it never existed.
The most famous members of her sentient race ware known, the Time Lords, yes, but it had taken their knowledge, them offering the name of their planet for some of the older Species to halfly remember at least that yes, somewhere that one had been once.
And with the remembrance came splitters spread in time and space, a painting here, a technical influence there, a myth on another planet, but never hard evidence.
No one knew where it had been or what it had looked like. Except for the Storyteller herself but even she was more of a myth than a person and only those who had been to Maldovar knew better.
And the Beningmeer-Journals, the only written records of the personal life of a Time Lord member of one of the lower Houses of Gallifrey, somehow spread all over the universe, hidden in plain sight in a wild scavenger hunt. Adding the fact that that one had been an engenieer, describing countless technological marvels, people tend to kill for getting even a glimpse.

Keith broke down in hysterical laughter. "It was barely a child! A young woman, in her thirties! Just a lowly fortune teller. I'm dead. I am so dead."
Zeb watched concerned how he cured himself in desperate laughter. "She's rumored to be a bit eccentric-"
"She was posing as a fortuneteller, consulting the cards for a few zent in her own Restaurant! I called her cheap and a fake, I even bragged about having worked for her when she asked for credentials. Oh Stars, I broke a contract with the Storyteller-"
Zeb grabbed his hands and started into his eyes. "Hey, hey, Keith. Stop. Breathe. With me, here. In and out."

He needed some time but Zeb was finally able to calm him down, so he got a somewhat clear head. Squee chirped concerned but stayed clear of them. He hadn't a panic attack since- He gulped and pushed the memory away. Squee fetched him some water which he drowned in one go and for once Zeb didn't complain about having it near his stuff.
People didn't mess with Time Lords. Squee's reaction to that book, only their written word alone, was proof enough, if you didn't believe the rumors of what happened to the people managing to piss the Storyteller of. And then there were the old ones: the Oncoming Storm, Rassilon, The Rani, Aythoria.

"You need to contact intercom-speak with her."
"Do you want to get rid of me? I still ow Zeb money, just you know."
Squee smoothed down their feathers. "She is first foremost a Time Lord teacher. She will heart-listen and mind-speak with you, like many Gallifreyans did before the war turned it around."
"You know her?"
The Lecha had been on the Time Lord's side. But they made a negative movement. "No. But she is respect-loved by the people coming to her home-new time-place, not respect-feared."
"Squee is right, you need to talk to her. You have the book in perfect condition and she's the only one able to stop this bloodhunt other than Aivex. The trade can still work."
Keith stared at the book, then nodded, fumbling with the worn piece of flimsy-foil in his utility belt.
"I don't even ask if you have a secure connection to Maldovar?"

-o0O0o-

"You are not dead."
"Why's everybody so surprised about that."
She certainly looked far from the young naïve fortuneteller in the weird dress, now that her hair was bound back and she was smiling down politely at him from lightyears away.

"You were supposed to report back, two years, ten months and twenty-five days ago. With the Bounty continuously raising to ever get any notice of you again. Here you are."
She actually answered that? No humor then.
"Here I am. Completely stuck and out of options."
She looked vaguely impressed and Keith needed a second to remember that not all in his field were this open or comfortable about making mistakes.
"You should have simply brought the package here as soon as you had acquired it."
"There were complications."
"Complications."
"Aivex is very fond of the journals, as the little war you two are fighting has proven."
The friendly amused face of the Time Lord turned cold. Carefully now.

"The book and it's container are both unharmed," he reassured with a surprisingly calm voice.
"You have read it."
Keith hesitated, long enough for her to notice and narrow her eyes. Squee affirmed silently.
"A friend. Master Se'queez:a of the Lecha."

She thoughtfully played with her necklace. "He may guard the knowledge for the generations to come," she finally permitted. "However, the contact was broken."
Keith was surprised at his outer calmness. "I understand, milady Storyteller."
She leant forward and steepled her fingers. "You will bring the Journal to me within "- she looked at something outside the recording range- "six weeks. Regarding your payment, you will suggest and I will decide to follow through or provide something more fitting. The Threibar Sector is controlled by Aivex, so you will take the route from Breanda, going over Trimo and Revor."

No.
Keith missed a breath. Not the payment! He needed that damn golden Ticket! "I-"
"You broke the contract willingly and in full awareness of the consequences," The storyteller interrupted him calmly."
He balled his fists. "Yes, I broke the contract. So, there's nothing holding me back to simply walk away with this book. No payment, no services."
The Storytellers eyes flashed with amusement of all things. It sent a shiver down his spine.
"I strongly urge you to reconsider that. Six weeks. Maldovar out."
The picture shrunk to a small glowing dot and then disappeared.

Zeb smacked his head. "Are you insane?"
Keith cursed him and started to carelessly bundle in the book.
"Keith!"
"No! The only reason, the only reason I put up with all this shit of those last two years was that damn golden ticket she waved before my nose. And back then I didn't even knew its full value! I don't care anymore."
"A- A golden ticket!"
Keith placed the book in the box and snapped it shut, the riddle clicking in place.
"But that, that would mean…."
"Yes," he hissed.

He would be free. He could server that stupid soul bond before it destroyed the tiny bit that was still left from the bloody work his slave master had forced him into. He could return home with his beloved ones still alive. He could erase Eyssovax without any trace of his existence in time.
"That's cruel."

"Golden Ticket," Squee asked carefully.
"A favor. Unquestioning service. From a Time Lord."
"That is… uncommon," he ruffled his feathers.
"It's a thing Dorian invented, pretty common on Maldovar. Payment in service for services. She has never done it before."
But for this Book she did.
"Time Lords are very indrawn- seclusive," the Lecha reluctantly affirmed.

"It's gone now. All this for nothing. So, she will never get it from me."
Zeb scratched his head. "Except, for the tiny problem that she knows where you are."

Keith cursed, stalking forwards with his knife drawn. "You said it was secure. You said it was secure!"
Zeb recoiled, clearly scared. "It was, I have no idea how, but it is! You could call Aivex from here, and he had no idea how or where to find you."
"Time Lord," reminded Squee from somewhere near the seps, fully camouflaged.
"Then how do you even know how she knows!"
"The route, you need exactly five and a half weeks on that route."
He slammed the knife in the table and screamed angrily before slumping down. "Damn it!"

He hated Time-Space travel. It didn't matter how carefully he concealed his steps where he would go from now on. As soon as she found out he fled, she would come here, to that exact moment. And the only reason why she wasn't here yet, was because he obeyed.

"The trade can still work. The Book is in perfect condition," Zeb tried.
"Everybody knows how vigilant she guards time. Without a Ticket I won't stand a change."
"You can still server the bond."
"Speak your heart-truth," Squee advised unhelpful, still invisible.

They had no idea.
He stared at the pesky box. No wonder the Kashiik didn't have written words, when they spelled trouble like this.

-o0O0o-

For the longest time, people expected a singularity of endless mass in the middle of the universe, but though the explosion of the big bang everything was thrown wide out, so it was the exact opposite, a matter-less space most people missed when they passed. They only noticed afterwards when reaching the dusty asteroid with Maldovar.

It was, well.
It wasn't a black market, because while no intergalactic laws applied, there were very much many in place for the countless merchants.
It wasn't a sanctuary, because while the lost and forgotten, children and elders, hope- and homeless found a room in the hotel and something to eat in the restaurant, the shadiest characters hung around the bar and the bloodiest headhunters searched for new bounties.
It wasn't a paradise of free will, because while everybody was able to be themselves, they had to bow to the owner's iron ruling fist.

What it was, was loud, miscellaneous and colourful.
A spot of life in the vastness of space, and an experience. And the Storyteller's home, open to anybody as long as they behaved. And thus the center of the Universe, maybe not quite literally, if you took in the four lightyears it was off the actual point, but definitely socially.
Nobody knew exactly how or when she took over from Dorium Maldovar after his beheading, but nobody cared either.
Nobody willingly broke the peace she brought to the Place. Which was the only reason Keith was still alive and he knew it.

He felt every single gaze in the room on him when he waved himself through the crowd to the counter. It wasn't just like prey in a room of predators, this was worse. Not even the storyteller could possibly reign in this wave, if they tasted first blood. Exept or maybe because of that nobody made a move.
Only when he waved over the blue haired barwoman he hoped to still call a friend and she just nodded at him and then glanced behind him, he realized how literally she was keeping the pace.

The Time Lord was leaning at the railing that opened the second floor to the first, her eyes following his every movement, showing her interest and making it obvious that no one should touch him. Keith reluctantly nodded in greeting and she stared a few seconds more, then disappeared to the left to the staircase.
Keith took it as the clue to follow her out of the main room into the calmer side corridors full of alcoves and little stands, where the more obscure deals were handled.
She didn't come down, so he took the stairs, then following the silent silhouette through the maze of the hotel, always catching nothing more than a shadow or the last glimpse of her skirt. Seriously?
Weren't there enough people toying with him already.

When he finally found the open door she disappeared into, he huffed then closed it behind him without taking his eyes from her.
"Tea?" she gestured to a pot on the desk she was sitting behind, her own cup already in her hand.

The room was small, just an office with a desk, a few chairs, a bookcase and oddly enough an old rugged wardrobe trunk in one corner, that looked like a house had burned down around it, even if it was clean. No windows.
He took a few steps closer but remained standing and eyed her warily. So different from her reputation, way younger, for once. Then again, that probably was just the body.

"No? Straight to business then. The Book?"
"56 Million," Keith countered.
He expected her to insist on seeing the book before any negotiations over his reward, to be as demanding as before but she just put down her cup.
"Money? How disappointing. I expected more."
"The golden ticket then."

"Why? That is a very specific sum you demand, not to mention odiously high. You can already buy anything with it. Your freedom, most certainly. A nice life, too."
"It's not enough," Keith grumbled.
She started laughing. "Anyone else would call that greedy."
Huh? She understood?

Of course, she did. She was the last of her kind. And the burn mark on his cheek wasn't exactly subtle.
"So, what services were I to provide then? Hypothetically speaking."

And he lost. There was no way she was willingly agreeing to what he has planned. But he couldn't lie either, she has already proven her control over him.
"The same the money is for. Getting my daughter back."
She nodded. "So why should I."
"The money would only get her ashes."

The Storyteller grew still. „Only Mbtarkh'aal Eyssovax would enforce a soul bond over something like this. How much time?"
Keith smiled bitter over the tiny spark of hope that was probably to be shattered soon. "Two billion, delivered in five years. I'm on my seventh now. The usual interest."
"And of course you do not only want to travel back to deliver the money in time, so the fees will not rise."
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

She leant back in her chair, mustering him with her sharp, enigmatic eyes. Oh.

How had he missed that the first time they interacted? She was old, old like the stars and burning just as distant. Strangely enough she radiated the same cold but stable comfort, the same kindness in her eternal, fixed existence.

"The book", she finally asked, her thoughts unreadable for him. He obeyed. What else could he do.
And when he saw the way she put off her gloves and her fingers caressed the leather, carefully turning page after page, not flipping, he knew. He knew. Squee had read it to them.
What a terrible, terrible burden.

"I'm all right with the money, milady."
She closed it and steepled her hands over it.
"You are not planning to use your knowledge against me."
He tapped his armor with that hated crest. "I didn't get that one because I thought it stylish. Besides, would I survive it?"
"I am not like that anymore," but there was a hint of exactly that in her voice.
"It worked then?"
She hums. "Brand new, and sane. Mostly. Which is exactly why I cannot just go back and take her from the palace, the consequences would be enormous."
He needs two starts to ask the question. "And a- a story?"
She was quiet, staring down at the leather for a long time. "I should not even consider this."
She-? Wow.
He knew that Kelliox and her did have an incohensible relationship with each other. He still didn't expect her to value this book higher than even her precious laws of time and she killed for those, even others of her own species. But then again, she said she had changed.

"How did she die."
Keith froze. If another Kashiik asked that question he would answer in truth. Painful, slow and ashamed, dishonored.
But, the Time Lord wanted a story, so she could determine if it was possible to weave one of her own. Create an artificial timeline and turn it into the real one, the one he inhabited and was conscious of.

Squee had needed a long time to explain that concept to them, when they had stumbled over it in the Journal. Keith still wasn't quite sure if he could fully gasp it, being the multi-dimensional concept that had to be explained in single dimensional terms it was.

Time was more like a river than a line, contained in the way it went by its banks, but the details freely changing.
A conversation could be held, sitting or standing or moving around in the room, with more or fewer words or synonymous ones, the outcome and direction would be the same. Except some of those different moments had the potential of laying the groundwork to widen the banks of the river, even creating a new branch and if desired even the huge cataclisms that were fix points, to strong and wild to get tamed.
So few species were able to see, recognize more than just the most probable present based on the most probable immediately preceding moment, and even less could act on it, work with it. The Time Powers, as they were rightfully called but only one of them had deserved to becalled what they were: Time Lords. This was why the Time War had been this devastating. Too many species fighting in it blindly, only being able to react when the damage had already been done, because before it didn't exist for them.

And the price for this power to be his for one deed was a book and Keith's -Xeiiaz- Pain.
He wet his lips with his tongue and then began to talk.

-o0O0o-

He winced at the voice calling his name and looked up from the green glowing liquid in his glass. A natural grown time stream, she had warned him.
"Bounty is off," he growled.
The barwoman smiled and placed a bowl of kea-nuts before him, "So I've heard."

Reluctantly he smiled. She was one of the few people he had always liked on Maldovar, a young thing, with half shaved blue hair, hiding the same scar he had on his cheek.
Nobody this young should be enslaved by Eyssovax. Because the fact that she never left this rock, made pretty clear that she still was.

A runaway. By the way she tried to hide her beauty behind hideous clothing and that hairstyle, that limp and her missing eye and hand, she was probably a courtesan. And yes, maybe he saw a tiny bit of his beloved Evern in her.

He froze.

No. Nonono no No!

They had shared more than one round of drinks complaining about their lives, co-workersand the curent prizes for fuel. Once they even o celebrated the old rituals on the high holydays, both being Kashiik. He didn't know much on how she ended up here exept that apparently she was assaulted by an especially eager client, nearly butchered and able to leave the hospital before anyone...

But he had held her in his arms when the dagger took her life. His beautiful Evern had died while she fled in her seventh year as a courtesan of the court. That brehl threw a dagger after her right in her back. He had lit her funeral pyre, yet her ashes still belonged to…. But it weren't hers.

Lady Aythoria (he didn't even try the proper gallifreyan pronunciation) said so.

She had lived here, for four years, he knew her for four years, he remembered meeting her! HOW!

"You're ok," she mumbled in Kashiik.
He flinched and nodded. "Yes. I just…"
"She's an experience," she nodded knowingly. "You get used to it."
She had no Idea.

"Yes. No. I- You just reminded me of a description one of my co-workers gave me. His Daughter," he added, when he noticed how her movements stiffened.
She turned. "Xeiias?"
His world froze.

So that was a Story. He swore that he knew her for more than four years, and yet he also knew he burnt... what? He saw the dagger fly, saw them taking her from his arms, away, saw the funeral pyre, but not her face. In another history he did but not here. Oh.

"Evern," He whispered and her eyes went wide in recognizion.

He would never ever question the power of words again.

AN:

I can't recomend the One-shot "Time v3-0" by Teyke enough. Time Lords as actual aliens we can never full understand or comprehend? Check. Teryfying Time War? Check.
It's bloody brilliant and shaped my view on both the Time Lords and the Time War before the lame messy spacebattle-thing Moffat gave us.
Go and read it. It's in my favorites, too. I consider that conversation between Martha and him Canon in this Universe, some other things not so much^^

Kelliox's journals are one of the plot devices that are only in the background and barely visible, but play a huge part in the story. They span the time from the moment Tella got enclosed in the chamelion ark to Kelliox' death on the Leviathan, so roughly a thousand years, and are basically letters describing for her what Kelliox was up to while she thought herself to be a Kapoaka. They were that genius of an engineer, while Tella knows how to use but not to build or repair anything technologial, and had the habbit to sketch and lay out their new ideas for her so she could understand and apreciate them, meaning all those things are explained very easy. Easily enough, so even "lesser" species can reproduce them. So, very dangerous stuff that shouldnt really be spread out around in the universe, but is for a reason you have yet to learn. There are at least a hundreth tomes, and the coordinates where to find the one before are written in the first entry of the next one. So, considering that Kelliox gave Tella/Sheela the last one, she didn't have a lot of problems to get the chain started and solwy collect them. It's also the reason why she has a time machine now, because Kelliox described her in the last one (and the first she got) how to build a simple one out of some spare parts she got from Naar and the rest was collected with the Vortex Manipulator she borrowed from Capitain Jack. (I should probably add that to that scene to explain its randomsess.)
So, yeah. Not sentimentality like Keith thinks that lets her pay such a high price to get one of the tomes back.

Thanks for reading and especially to kanna-yamamoto and StratocasterInTheStratosphere for favoring and Alvia the Ginger for both favoring and following. You guys are astonishing.

Happy Hollidays and stay safe.

Greetings
alkatie

KD 14122020