Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm just playing in Naughty Dog's sand box.

-Chapter Thirteen-

Jak could channel eco. Was he somehow related to Damas, or was the rare ability not exclusive to the House of Mar as he had always thought? Daxter had not been able to shed any light on the situation.

Who were his parents? Sig had asked as casually as he could manage.

Dunno. He and Samos just showed up in the village one day when Jak was just a kid. Old Lump-on-a-log wouldn't ever say where he'd come from, just that Jak'd been lost and he'd found him. Jak couldn't speak - never has - and now I dunno if he even remembers.

Either way, it was still incredible, and yet another thing Sig needed to report as soon as he got back to Spargus. This mission had turned out to be just full of surprises.

He was on his own now, leaving both Kraven and Daxter in the care of the monks who were guarding the temple entrance. All thoughts of sleep had fled from his mind upon learning that Mar could be there. Even if the Metal Head was mistaken, he couldn't go back to Damas without making absolutely sure. Besides, if Mar was there, then he was in danger. The kid wasn't anywhere near old enough to be able to defend himself from even the weakest of Metal Heads. He had to find him, and quickly. There was no time for sleep. He'd taken only enough time to bandage his wounds before heading back out.

Keep a look out, he told the others whenever he ran into one of the other teams. We think someone's kid might've come through the transport ring.

But six hours later there was still no sign of Mar or that he had ever been there. Six hours later he and the surviving members of the group he'd brought with him from Spargus had searched the temple completely. Every Metal Head was gone, every crevice had been checked, and nothing. Nothing.

Damn it.

Wearily, he made his way back to the entrance, his eyes still searching just in case. Daxter was probably right. It had probably just been Jak the Metal Head had smelled. Soon as he saw the teen, he was going to ask some serious questions about his parentage - assuming Damas didn't beat him to it first. Surely he remembered something.

Even when he got back to the entrance, though, he still didn't rest. He went straight to the monk in charge of the temple's defenses "All clear?" he asked. He already knew it, it just needed to be confirmed.

The head monk nodded. "Yes," he said, ever solemn in the strange orange armor he wore over his dark black robes. "We thank you and your fellow warriors for their efforts. Convey our regrets to King Damas for the lives of those that were lost."

"And the transport ring?" Sig pressed.

A grimace of distaste crossed the monk's painted face. "We have determined that the ring is indeed how the Metal Heads entered the temple. Traps have been put in place to prevent anyone else from using it without our permission."

"Good." Sig swept his eyes over the wounded that slept in the temple entrance, resting briefly on Kraven before stopping on Daxter. The ottsel was asleep, white bandages showing starkly against his orange fur. It would have been best to let him rest longer, to sleep himself before heading out into the desert, but... "I need to get back to Spargus," he said. "Got a few things Damas needs to hear from me. Tell the others to follow when they're ready."

The monk nodded, bowing his head just slightly. Sig returned the gesture, then walked over to Daxter and crouched down to prod him awake. "C'mon, cherry. We gotta get goin'."

Daxter groaned and curled away from Sig's finger. "G'way, Jak. 'M tryin' to sleep."

"Jak ain't here," Sig said. "He's back in Spargus. You wanna see him, you better come with me." When it looked like the ottsel was going to fall back asleep anyway, he dug his finger into the furball's side. "Don't make me carry you to my vehicle," he threatened. "Trust me, you won't like how I hold animals."

Either the comment or the poking earned him a bleary scowl, but either way, Daxter picked himself up off the ground. "Fine, fine," he grumbled. "I'm going. Lead the-" He yawned. "Lead the way, Sig." It was perhaps a testament to just how tired the ottsel was that he didn't try to add a witty insult or rude comeback of some sort.

Sig shook his head and took a minimal amount of pity on him. "You can sleep in the Dune Hopper on the way there." Or try to, that is. The ride would be long enough, certainly, but if they ran into any Marauders, sleep would be the last thing on anyone's mind. For now, though, the promise was good enough to get the ottsel moving, and there was always a chance that nothing would happen. He'd let Daxter sleep while he could and worry about warning him after the Marauders appeared.

-o-

Even in a city that had very little paper, there still never seemed to be a shortage of paperwork. Unfortunately, when paper was lacking, what that meant was that reports and requests were submitted verbally. Listening to a grizzled old man drone on about the state of the granaries and the rising problem of kangarats, Damas concluded darkly, was worse than having to read about it.

Finally fed up with it, he cut the man off. "We already know that leaper lizards are the kangarats' natural predator," he said. "And they can be trained as mounts. Take two and see if you can train them to hunt on command as well."

"But leaper lizards-"

Damas glared him into submission. "Unless you have a better idea that you haven't shared with me, Viro?" He was well aware of the leaper lizards' shortcomings and general laziness when not being actively ridden or chased. But whether or not the plan actually worked, at least they would be doing something besides standing around and complaining. Maybe then Damas could focus on...

...on one of the other hundred things it took to maintain a city. He bit back a groan and waved Viro away. The man left the throne room, clearly unhappy, but he didn't voice any more protests. Damas breathed a sigh of relief, though he knew the respite would be short-lived. I never thought I would see the day where I missed the paperwork of Haven, he thought with a grimace. I need to start thinking about delegation. Perhaps he could get Kleiver to take charge of the kangarat problem...

The rattle of machinery caught his ears, telling him that someone was about to appear on the lift, and he braced himself for more unwelcome administrative duties. However, the man who appeared wasn't who he expected. "Sig!" Damas immediately rose from his throne, startled to note how pale and worn the other man looked. Blood and dust clung to his punctured armor with bits of bandages poking through here and there. He held a bundle of splotchy orange rags in his hands which were equally matted in filth. He hadn't made any attempt to clean up or seek treatment before coming to see Damas. That meant his news was urgent.

"What happened?" he demanded, wasting no time with formalities or concern. The first was not needed and the second could wait.

"What didn't happen?" Sig responded wearily. He looked like he desperately wanted to collapse into a chair, but pride and a lack of any chair in the room besides Damas' throne kept him on his feet. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Damas, I found out what the Metal Heads are after."

Damas tensed. Something about the way Sig said that, about the way he looked at him, said he wasn't going to like what he heard next. "Tell me," he said, knowing it was better to get it over with than to draw the matter out.

Green eyes met violet and neither man blinked. "Mar," Sig said. "They're huntin' for Mar."

For a moment, it felt like Damas was standing on sand and that everything underneath him had shifted. "What?" he said. Then he forced himself rigid, ruthlessly taking control of his body. He would not show weakness, not even for this. With a glare at Sig, as though the other man was directly responsible for what he was reporting, he gestured peremptorily for him to continue. "What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, Sig explained his story. "While we were in the temple, we overheard two Metal Heads talkin', one on a holographic transmitter. Talked about not bein' able to find 'the boy' and that the heir of Mar was the key."

"To what?" Damas asked.

Sig shook his head. "They didn't say. From what I gathered, Mar went through a transport ring somewhere, then didn't come out where they thought he would. Sounded to me like they were checkin' more than one Precursor ring."

Unable to stay still any longer, the king began pacing, unconsciously lifting his hand to rub his chin as he thought. "The good news, then, is that Mar is alive and has eluded their grasp. That is more news than we had before." Indeed, his heart lifted with hope. It was the first concrete piece of evidence they'd had of his son's continued survival ever since he'd been taken away. "We also have a clue to where to search for him next. I do not know why a transport ring would take someone anywhere besides the corresponding end..." He trailed off suddenly and looked at Sig.

Sig had obviously had the exact same though. "Whatever happened to the ring Jak went through," he said, "the same thing might've happened to Mar."

"Which means he could be anywhere," Damas concluded, passing a hand over his face. He sank into his chair, feeling suddenly tired and defeated. Once again they were right back where they started with no clue where to go from there. Because Jak's malfunctioning transport ring hadn't released him from another ring, but had dropped him out of thin air.

However, when Sig did not immediately agree with him, Damas looked up to find the man hesitating. "That... might not necessarily be the case," the other Wastelander said slowly. Carefully, as though handling something delicate, he rolled the bundle of rags over in his hands. Damas blinked in surprised when he realized that it wasn't just cloth, but an animal wrapped in bandages and covered in dirt and sand. "Say hello to Daxter."

"Daxter?" Damas echoed. He did not immediately make the connection.

"One of those friends Jak mentioned was with him when he went through the ring," Sig clarified, immediately catching Damas' interest. "Little chili pepper nearly wet himself when we ran into some Marauders on the way here, passed out when we rolled an' got in a bit of a pileup."

Knowing Sig, that was probably a gross understatement of what really happened. Still, unconscious or not, Damas got up to take a closer look at the creature. Despite the bandages and filth, its breathing was steady. It wasn't like anything that Damas had seen. "What is it? And how do you know that it is one of Jak's friends?"

"He can talk," Sig said. "Calls himself an ottsel. Anyway, my point is, he did come through the transport ring in the temple, so it might've just been fluke that Jak didn't. Lookin' for other rings is still our best bet for finding Mar."

"Hnn." It was a long shot, but Sig was right. With nothing else to go on, they couldn't afford to ignore the one possibility they had. Damas began to internally catalog all the Precursor rings he knew about. As he did so, he examined both the ottsel and Sig again. It was difficult to tell how badly either one was injured, but both, he suspected, were in need of medical attention. He nodded his head toward the lift. "Come," he said. "You both need to be treated, and Jak will want to see his friend. He is... conveniently in the infirmary." Where he was no doubt waiting less than patiently for Damas to show up and release him.

Sig frowned as he followed the king to the lift. "Did somethin' happen to him?"

Damas grimaced at the recollection of the previous day's events. "He has an unfortunate ability to find trouble when left to his own devices," he stated grimly. "He entered the arena by accident yesterday."

As they stepped onto the lift together and prepared to descend, Sig looked at Damas sharply. "How the hell do you enter that by accident?"

"Through a combination of bad luck, his inability to speak, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time," Damas said dryly.

"And the kid?"

"Shaken, but otherwise he will be fine. He emerged victorious and with minimal injury." He could not help his smile of amusement at the look of incredulity that Sig gave him. "And he did it all with only his wits and his hands. It is a pity that he is not actually trying to become part of Spargus. Skill and intelligence such as that would be welcome."

"Damn," Sig murmured, obviously impressed.

When they reached the bottom, they stepped off, but the conversation did not immediately resume. Damas saw another of his advisers coming down the street and shook his head. Not now. Whatever report the woman had could wait until he'd finished with Sig. The woman's lips thinned with annoyance, but when her eyes flicked to the man walking beside the king, noting both his identity and his condition, she nodded. She understood.

After another few moments of walking in silence, Damas spoke again. "To be honest, I am uncertain what to do with him. He needs a guiding hand, but I cannot always be there. I am far too busy a man."

"But anyone you assigned to watch him would resent bein' his babysitter," Sig noted, understanding the dilemma.

"Indeed. He is no doubt taxing the patience of the monk acolytes in the infirmary as we speak." He pursed his lips as he considered the problem. A look of calculation crossed his face. "In theory, now that he has earned the first part of an amulet, however unintentionally, he is fair game to send on missions. He could be useful, if he is willing." Missions would be the ideal way to keep the boy occupied, to hone his skills, and to teach him the lessons in life that he was so obviously lacking.

Unfortunately, Jak was different from every other man or woman who had made their way to Spargus. He was neither in Damas' debt, nor did he wish to earn a place in the city. Damas had no true hold over him other than the promise of help in finding his home and the fact that he could throw the boy to the Wastes if he so chose, and he was not certain that either would be sufficient leverage if Jak took it into his head to refuse.

"Damas." The tone of Sig's voice was that of a man about to plunge into unknown depths, and it successfully pulled the king's attention from his thoughts. Sig drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "There's somethin' you need to know about Jak."

Damas arched a naked brow. "Oh?"

"Daxter says he can channel eco."

He blinked for a moment, then recalled that Sig had not been in the city since early yesterday morning and that he had never gone into detail about why he had given Jak a gun. "Ah. Yes, I already know. I caught the boy playing with eco he collected from bullets." Sig didn't need to know about the rest of what had happened. Even as much as he trusted the man, some secrets were best kept secret.

Sig frowned at Damas' unruffled response. "So what does that mean?" he asked. "He some long lost cousin of yours?"

"I doubt it." They turned down another street, carefully sidestepping a line of carts that was heading down to the marketplace. "To my knowledge, there are no other branches of the House of Mar. I would like to think that news of such a family would have reached my ears if it existed. No, it is more likely that Jak's ability is a coincidence of breeding. Just as there was a first channeler in the House of Mar, he may be the first channeler in whatever family he came from." Still, if they ever found where the boy came from, it would be interesting to speak to his parents.

There was silence again as the other Wastelander chewed on that. Then, speaking slowly, as though he wasn't certain what he was getting himself into, he said, "You know, if I'm gonna be huntin' around Precursor rings, I'll be dealin' with a lot of Precursor technology. Might help to have someone who can channel eco with me."

Damas looked at him in surprise. Was he suggesting...?

The questioning look earned him a shrug. "He's a good kid an' he can fight. Could do a lot worse than partnerin' him on a mission."

Damas nodded, frowning as he considered it. Could he trust Jak to search for his son? Not that Jak would know the exact identity of who he was looking for, but still. Would he prove more asset or liability? Could he truly be relied upon for something as important as this? This was only his third day in the city. How much did they really know about him?

"Perhaps a different mission first," he said, shaking his head. "Something for you to get the measure of him." It would need to be short, because the more they delayed the search for Mar, the more time that gave the Metal Heads to find him. But he could not simply trust the boy without testing him. "And this is assuming that he will cooperate."

"You'll just have to ask him, then. You got somethin' specific in mind?"

"There are a few options I am considering. By the time you are recovered enough to head out, I should have something decided." Which, judging by Sig's exhausted appearance, wouldn't be until at least nightfall. That would give Damas plenty of time.

When they arrived at the infirmary, Damas opened the door and held it for the other man, whose hands were still full with carrying the unconscious ottsel. Sig nodded his appreciation for the gesture as he stepped inside. They barely had time to greet the harried monk inside, however, when Jak flew off his bed with a startled cry.

-End Chapter Thirteen-