Chapter Five: Divulgence

Forced to walk for fear of losing her feet to one of the many sharp rocks of the island's center, Karis trudged between the two rough Tier'Dal. She kept her gaze cast downwards, hardly seeing anything. Her young mind still struggled to comprehend the events of the last few hours. How quickly her world had turned upside down – the sun was just beginning to rise, and her life had seemed perfectly normal when it had set.

What happened?

The two dark elves stopped outside the tower Fenis had seen after coming ashore. Karis hardly noticed the tall, rough structure before her captors dragged her inside. The poorly hewn floor scraped at the Ratonga's already torn feet, and a dull trail of blood followed her, leading from the entrance to a sparsely furnished room up two flights of stairs.

Without a glance to the trembling life between them, the stoic pair of elves shoved Karis into the room. She nearly toppled into an Iksar who sat, hunched miserably, near the door.

"Your next visitor, High Inquisitor," one of the Tier'Dal said curtly. Not waiting for the addressee to show himself, the elves turned and stalked back down the stairs.

Karis stood uncertainly, shifting from injured foot to injured foot, thin arms wrapped tightly about her tiny body. Though quick to believe anything obvious, even Karis could realize that the only occupant of the room, the brooding Iksar, was not the High Inquisitor. Her dark eyes glanced about, then settled on the floor, uncomfortable near the lizard-man. Even sitting, he was taller than her, and though he made no threatening movements, his narrow eyes and sharp claws still unnerved the young Ratonga, who had never before seen one of his kind.

Before either could move or speak a word to the other, a grumbling voice sounded from a corner of the room. Karis looked up quickly, eyes widening as she was a tall half-elf walk from a previously empty side of the room. Tail twitching nervously, Karis stumbled back, holding herself tighter. The Iksar, having seen the man's entrance once before, just sat, unmoving.

Smoothing out his dark robes, the tanned Ayr'Dal looked over the shaking Ratonga. He continued to mutter discontentedly, blowing his red bands out of his face. After assessing the girl, he sighed and rubbed his temples, fingers brushing against his many facial piercings.

"Stupid Tier'Dal, suspicious of every-bloody-thing," he grumbled. "Little girl's gonna betray Freeport after nearly drowning." His harsh voice drowned out his words, frightening Karis even more. He watched impassively as she stumbled back, falling to the ground and curling up pitifully. He then sighed and shook his head.

"Look, child, calm down. I'm not about to hurt you, all right? Stupid inkies're just afraid of you, and any-bloody-thing that moves."

Karis continued to look up in fear, drawing another, longer sigh from the Inquisitor. "It's too early for this," he mumbled, taking long strides to stand over the girl. He blew at his wild bands again and folded his arms, keeping a steady gaze trained on the girl's face. She averted her eyes whenever he tried to lock eyes with her, so he finally gave up and grabbed at her ragged shirt, heaving Karis to her feet.

"I'm not much good with the nice guy thing, kid," he said roughly. "I just do my job, okay? And right now my job's to make sure you're not some traitor what's gonna blow up Freeport when –if– we let you back. I'm not doing this to be mean, but I have a nasty temper and no patience." He gave another sigh – he hated explaining so much. "Now, look, either you tell me your story and answer my questions, and I just make sure you're telling the truth . . . or I get nasty and find the information my own way. That way's not very pleasant." Another sigh broke his description. It took a good deal of concentration on his part to speak slowly, without snapping at the child.

"Do you understand?" he asked at length.

Karis responded with a shaky nod.

"Good enough," the half-elf grumbled, then led the Ratonga to a hard, wooden stool, sitting her down. He cast a glance over his shoulder to the Iksar. "You can leave now. Should be an empty room down the hall. Stay there."

The Iksar looked slowly over to the Inquisitor, wide eyes staring at him. He then finally nodded his large head and stood slowly, scales scraping against themselves as he shambled out of the room. The Inquisitor sighed – with the Iksar's description of a boat wreck earlier, he had no doubt that there would be a lot of work for him that day. He hated work.

He turned his attention back to the Ratonga, standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. "All right, let's get this over with quick, okay? I'm sure I'll be having a busy day today. I'm High Inquisitor Valen Balor," he said with a tiny bow that only included a nod of his head. After a pause, he frowned and added, "Your turn."

Karis bit at her lip, shifting uncomfortably. "Kah-Karis," she finally stammered, looking down.

Valen nodded once. "Well, then, Karis – basics first. Age?"

Eyes still trained on the floor, she mumbled her answer. "Al-Almost fifteen, Karis thinks."

"Thinks?"

"Er . . . uh . . . Karis orphan when littles. Not remember goods. New family guesses Karis's age," she explained hurriedly, blood rushing to her cheeks, flush hidden by her fur.

"I see," he said off-handedly. "Where did you live before staying with that family, then?"

"Karis not remembers wheres at. Undergrounds. Just knows was rocks everywheres."

"And where did your new family live?"

"Nears cave. Gots foods and furs and warms and sharpies from outsides. Cave not safes deep. Was nears city."

Valen paused to understand the girl's strange vocabulary, peculiar grammar, and hurried speech. "Why did you need a new family?" he finally asked, satisfied with her summary.

Karis shifted. For as little as she could remember of her first family, her real family, she could vividly remember the night that had shattered her home. "Big fire," she finally said in a hushed voice. "Brights and hots and all-overs. Destroyeds everything. Karis . . . Karis makes," she said, voice hushing as it broke and she swallowed back tears. "Karis not means, finds stick and stones and wraps in cavern, plays withs. Finds scroll and wants to see if its burns toos . . . Makes sparkies and fires and Karis thought pretties, not scaries . . . Karis not knows! Did not means! Burns and goes everywhere . . ."

The Ratonga had often cried over that day in the years had had followed the horrible incident. She had spent the last season not thinking of it, though. The tears, however, were still light, no matter the depth of her sadness, merely leftovers from her sobbing fit on the beach. She rubbed at her face with a dirty paw, heaving in some breaths.

Valen hardly reacted. Sob stories were common. It had one oddity, however - rarely did an individual honestly let the blame fall on his shoulders, even in an accident. Her honesty did not touch him, but he stored the information.

With a few more deep, shaky breaths, Karis found her voice once again. "Karis runs, gets out," she continued, wanting badly to move on in her forced narration. "No one elses did. All gones."

Another nod was all her trembling conclusions drew from Valen. "And so you found another Ratonga clan to take you in?" he continued emotionlessly, more interested in the timeline than her feelings. He was satisfied with her nod of a response. "Were they all on the boat with you?"

"No. . . " Karis replied hesitantly. "All . . . all buts sister gone befores."

"Oh?"

When he said nothing further, Karis realized he wanted her to expand on her vauge statement. She drew in another deep breath. "Lives with new familys for long times, with happies. But thens . . . family attackeds. Only Karis and Nis escapes."

"Nis?"

Speaking her name was difficult, the syllable leaving her dry throat garbled, but to hear it echoed back to her stung. She looked down. "Big sister. Karis tries to be likes. Is . . ." she paused, considering her words. Is? The present? She had little grasp on the difference between past tense and present tense, but she knew she should have been using the past tense. Past for things no longer in the present. But she could not bring herself to do so. "Is best friend and nices. Karis loves."

"I see." He paused and nodded to remember the name to learn what had happened to this Ratonga, then continued. "Do you know who attacked you?"

"Bigs group of others . . . humans and elfses and big gnomey things. Was in lots of armors and with big sharpies and louds." She trembled as she recalled the vicious attack, still unable to grasp al that had happened that day. She tried to mumble a few more things, expand on the memory, but it all came out as incoherently as her thoughts.

A small frown twitched across Valen's face as he gave thought to the past. "These attackers, do you remember if they had an emblem on their armor?"

Karis bit at her lower lip again, wringing her hands as she tried to recall details of the blur that had taken nearly everything she knew. She had never given much thought to the details of those that had attacked, regarding them only as mean, evil creatures, monsters. She could give little more than a shrug. "Maybes. Karis . . . not remembers. Not looks. Too much scareds and has confuseds. Not know, not -" she caught her own rambling and curled up a little more, sighing. "Sorries."

Valen just rubbed his chin, thinking. His curiosity, that which had brought him to take his job, tugged at his mind, drew him to want - need - to delve deep into coincidences. This was just such a coincidence. "When was this?" he finally asked.

"Almost two season turnses, Karis thinks."

Valen nodded. "Did you speak the common tongue at that time? Did you understand any of what they said?"

"Karis learning common thens," she said with a small nod. "Knows little. Remembers little words, thoughs. Says . . . says Rats're bads - but nots! Not doings anything! Livings, beings, likes alls other, not botherings, or nothings! Not means, not-" Valen cut her off with a raised hand and a stern glare.

"What they said, that's all I asked."

Karis sighed as she looked down and tried to recollect herself. She fidgeted, tugging at her fingers. "They says Rats bads and needs kill first befores city," she finally said, looking down. "Nis hides Karis and says to no moveses, and Karis not seens but sees and can't cries, but wants to. Means things kills momma ands poppa ands elders ands little-littles Karis hads to watches. Nis hides other places and gets Karis lots of times afters and takes away. Only Karis and Nis liveses. Mean things goes to city, but not comes back. Nis takes Karis to city and lives on Temple Street with others withs no family."

Valen watched Karis shifted again with the shaky close of yet another story, pulling herself into a tighter ball of matted fur, looking down. Given her age, how long ago her tragedy occurred, and her description of the invaders, he had little doubt of who had left the two Ratonga homeless. And if he was right, a sect of people from the same group was the reason for the small Freeportian army stationed on the island.

And maybe they had just gained their second revenge-driven soldier.

He dropped his hand from his face, eyes still trained on the Ratonga, but most of his mind elsewhere. His past had a similar event, his small clan of family slaughtered by Qeysonian soldiers of their way to Freeport. The group of half-elves had tried to make a living out in the Commonlands, scavenging and scraping by much like the Ratongas had. The raiding Qeynos group, rallying under the cry of one guild, had also destroyed his replacement family. He survived by a fluke, out gathering berries and herbs, only to return to a bloodied mess of bodies, mercilessly torn apart. This sorrow, that from a young man already accustomed to hardships and solitude, was not nearly as sharp as the child's. His feelings had before been long dulled by years of experience.

He thus offered no soft comfort to the quietly sobbing Ratonga. He had long since disregarded such warm compassion as weakness. Kindness was a lie in the corrupted world, or at least the corrupted city, they lived in. The girl would need strength to survive, not love, and he wanted her to survive.

His rough hand grabbed Karis's chin, lifting her gaze back up to his face. She squirmed uncomfortably, more tears pouring down the slicked tracks sunk into her dark fur. Valen studied her for several long moments.

Her tiny limbs, weakened from malnourishment, would provide her with little physical strength. Her quivering body evidenced her low stamina, showed her exhaustion from both the physical and emotional stress of that night. She was small, hardly educated, unequipped, sensitive, and likely unskilled. Life had broken her, and it would take time to put the pieces back together. She appeared, all in all, rather useless.

But she was young. She was malleable. She was, most importantly, distressed and in need of a guiding hand. She could be turned into what he and the Freeport army needed.

Karis swallowed hard, trying to pull away from the strong half-elf. Twisting her small body, she slipped away, and tumbled back off the stool, whimpering as she hit the stone floor. She could not understand the man's sudden change. He asked her no more verbal questions and assaulted her. Had she answered a question wrong? Was she supposed to lie? Did he think she had lied? She hadn't! She curled up again. She only wanted to leave, find her way back home and hope futilely for her sister to return.

With an annoyed sigh, Valen reached down and hoisted Karis back to the stool. He would have to out-fit the child, both with clothing and weapons. She needed food and medical care, and likely a degree of emotional repair. And some, he knew, emotional manipulation. He could provide all that, and she could then be taught. Taught to kill, taught of avenge, taught of survive, and taught to be obedient to Freeport. After another long moment, he nodded.

She would do.

"That's quite a life you've had so far," he said, concentrating on keeping his voice soft and even. "But it looks like you haven't got much to go back to, do you? So I've got a . . . a deal for you."

Karis looked up, ears laid back against her head, dark eyes narrowed in confusion. She remained silent, unsure of his motives.

"You've, what, a dilapidated orphanage to return to? Return to alone? Not much. Stay here," he said as he leaned in closer, voice softer than it had ever been. He needed to approach this carefully. "I'll give you some things, then you help us with our mission. If you do good, we'll send you back with some coin – at least enough to buy your own hovel. What've you got to lose?"

Shifting uneasily, Karis looked down, hundreds of thoughts running through her head. Admittedly, going back to Temple Street without Nis daunted the young her. The city had always frightened the small Ratonga, and trying to live there alone did not appeal to her. She squirmed in her seat, not wanting to have to make a decision. She was dependent, a followed – she wanted orders, to live by another's ideas. She could avoid guilt that, and hardship. Always she followed the lead of her brethren, her birth mother in years past and Nis for most of her memory. Another Ratonga could not now tell her what she should do. She ha retaliated against the human because he represented a difference – she was waiting for Nis to return.

Nis would not return. She had no one to follow now. No one except . . .

Almost against her will, Karis raised her gaze back to the Inquisitor, her long fingers tangling together as she rubbed her hands nervously. He, while cold, had shown her the most kindness, if it could be called that, of any on the island. She had no reason to mistrust him – and she was otherwise very alone. She needed an anchor, even if her heart ached in guilt for being so fickle. She would cry for losing Nis, and she would cry often. It did not change the fact that she needed a guide for her present existence.

She needed the young man before her.

Valen waited as patiently as he could; only tapping his foot as he watched her deliberate, the decision both difficult and simple for her. He had easily guessed her dependent nature, and the clash of morals only lasted for a few moments. He was not surprised as she finally unclasped her hands and took a deep breath.

"Karis will stays."