"Where are we going?" Evon wanted to know as they left the market. He was still grabbing the line of his balloon in a tightly clenched fist, although the pig bladder was already sagging behind him; these things never held the floating gas for long, although Zana supposed that was a good thing - it was prone to ignite at the slightest provocation.

"I need to talk to someone, sweetie," she said absently, as they turned into a side alley. The noise of the market died down almost immediately.

"But I'm tired, and my feet are achy," Evon complained.

"It's not far, just down this road," Zana soothed him. "And then you can sit down, and play with the toy horse I bought you."

Evon wasn't mollified, but Zana paid him no attention anymore. She had to find Halda's corrupted book, and she didn't need the woman to barge in again while she was digging through her desk.

Which meant she needed a distraction.

For a moment, Rogan's face popped up in her mind's eye, enraged and horrified at her illegal trespassing on Vilam's office. She had no right to dig through any ape's desk, and this time, she couldn't claim ignorance anymore. But her chances of convincing Rogan to search the charity were as good as nonexistent, and the court had already spoken its verdict over Levar. The Sapan Sentinel had reported about it in today's issue.

If she didn't do this herself, nobody would. This time, she wouldn't take the evidence with her - but once she knew without a doubt that that book really existed, she wouldn't rest until Rogan turned up at the shelter with a search warrant. She'd just have to wait until he had cooled down again, after she'd given back Halda's forged complaint, and the blue thread... that wasn't from a bandage...

Fortunately, Sapan only had two lodging houses, and the trader Zana had in mind didn't lodge with Morla, so there was only one logical destination left. Zana hoped that the Chimp hadn't left in the meantime, after he had been so frustrated by his last confrontation with Halda.

She left the children in the guest room, confident that Iska would take care of her younger brother as usual, and ordered a glass of iced lemonade for each of them. Then she went to the reception.

"I'm looking for a trader," she told the old woman behind the counter. "Unfortunately I don't know his name, but his clothes are very striking... lots of fur..."

"Trader Mezzal has just left," the old woman croaked. "Maybe you can catch him at the stables, he just went out the door..."

Zana didn't hear the rest of her words, as she sprinted out of the back door.

The trader was just paying the stable boy for hitching up his horses. "Trader Mezzal?" Zana gasped.

He barely turned his head. "I'm done with trading in this town. Try again next year."

Zana stepped closer. "It'll only take a moment of your time, sir. You may not remember me, but I couldn't help but witness your, ah, discussion with Chairwoman Halda - from the human shelter," she added, when he just stared blankly at her.

At the mention of Halda's name, the trader huffed and shook his head. "You're right, I don't remember you, but I sure remember her! Blazes, what a shrew!"

"She's very protective of the humans," Zana said, "but of course she has to take the markets into account..." She had no idea what she was talking about. "If she doesn't sell the... the art objects, the humans will go hungry. And I'm sure you could not only get even, but make a substantial profit from them. After all, you know a lot more about business than Halda." It was never wrong to cater to a man's vanity.

"Well, that's exactly the problem!" Mezzal brushed past her, and climbed onto the driver's seat. "She's got no idea how the market works, so you can't talk sense into her! She just digs her heels in, common sense be damned!"

Zana grabbed the halter of the nearest horse. "I don't know if you're aware that the shelter had just lost its other chairwoman to a horrible crime when you had that business talk with Halda. She was very shaken by the incident. I know that I wouldn't have had the composure to even turn up for work, much less talk about a deal with anyone that day!" She stepped closer, her hand brushing the length of the horse's back, holding Mezzal's gaze. This man couldn't just roll out of town now! She needed him!

"But today is another day," she continued, still locking eyes with Mezzal. "And with all of Sapan at the races, you'll be uninterrupted for hours - and she won't have a pretense to leave the table."

The other thing that one should always cater to was a man's pride. "Don't tell me you'll let such an opportunity slip through your fingers, Mezzal. I'm not seeing that kind of meekness in you."

Mezzal stared her down, his nose twitching nervously. "Alright," he grumbled at last. "One more try, while I'm headed for the road anyway."

Zana beamed at him. "Would you be so kind to offer us a ride? I was sitting Halda's children, and her little boy has sore feet from wandering around the fair..."

Mezzal was more soft-hearted than he had let on, because he didn't just allow them to sit at the back of the wagon, but called Evon to the front to ride shotgun, and even hold the lines, while Zana and Iska settled down at the tail end of the wagon.

Zana let her legs dangle from the platform, secretly relieved that she wouldn't have to walk out to the shelter herself; it wasn't only Evon's feet that were pretty sore by now. Beside her, Iska was dangling her legs, too, taking her hair bow out of its wooden box and turning it in her fingers, so that the sunlight reflected from the silvery threads that were woven into it.

"Do you like it?" Zana asked.

Iska nodded, then put it back into the box. "It was a nice day," she murmured without looking up. "A very nice day. Thank you so much."

"I enjoyed it as much as you did," Zana said, feeling miserable. This day would stand out in the children's memory for a long time, just as similar events from her own childhood had stayed with her over all these years.

She only hoped that the good part of the day would stay with them - the ponies, and the balloons, and the sweets.

Not the part that would come after.

Burke tried to focus on his breath - make it regular, not too deep, not too fast - while the apes herded him and the other racers towards the start line, where a row of boxes were waiting for them. One of the damn monkeys must've found an old picture book about horse racing, because Burke could see no fucking reason why anyone would lock a human into a box for a race. The proper way was to use starting blocks, so you could push off, and get a decent acceleration...

He realized that his breath had accelerated instead, and his heart was racing as if he had already run for miles. It was the noise all around him, and the fact that the stands were packed with howling, screeching apes, that was making his hair stand on end. It was like being led into the arena to meet the lions.

"Hail Cesar," Burke muttered under his breath, "we who'll die in here greet you."

Wasn't that the name of their mythical god-king, too? Must've been some human's pet, no ape would give their offspring a human name... Galen's dad would have a stroke if he knew that his son was wearing the name of a human physician. Burke wished he had thought of that while they had been there. But then he had missed the old chimp both times...

The box was yawning at him, waiting to swallow him whole. Rough hands shoved against his back; he hadn't realized that he had slowed down, but he was the last to enter. All the other humans had obediently stepped inside their designated box, and the barrage of doors banging shut behind them, and the bars snapping in place hit Burke like physical blows.

The ape pushed him into the darkness and shut the door behind him, and for a second, Burke couldn't see anything, hear anything except for his own ragged breathing.

Stop that, goddammit! You're pushing yourself into another panic attack!

He leaned against the door and tried to hold his breath, to give his blood the opportunity to unload enough oxygen to counteract the effects of his hyperventilating. He felt dizzy, numb, and he was already feeling the tell-tale prickle in his fingertips and upper lip.

Shit.

The voice of the announcer was booming outside, his words unintelligible, but judging by the roar from the crowd that answered him, the starting gun would be fired any moment now. He'd be out of this damn box, and he'd be allowed to run off all this tension that was building up in him, building and building...

... and he'd run straight into the next cage. Olman's cage, one whose door would never open again.

Burke squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't think of this right now. Al would... he'd find a way to get him out. Burke didn't trust Galen to find his way out of a paper bag, let alone out of this clusterfuck the ape had gotten him into, but the colonel wouldn't leave him behind. He had seen it in Virdon's eyes when the two of them had turned up at the warming-up place. They had been chased away by security almost immediately, but now, in the darkness of the box, Burke could see Virdon's face before him as if he was staring at a screen. His commander was already planning something...

For someone who insists that we've been marooned on this hellhole for all eternity, you sure cling to your old command structure.

Yeah, well, even if he didn't believe in their return to a human-ruled Earth, Virdon still did; and Virdon still saw him as his subordinate, his responsibility. Burke was absolutely sure that he'd get him out of Sapan, somehow. He clung to that certainty like a drowning man clings to a piece of deadwood to keep him afloat.

With a resounding crack, the starting gun went off, and the door flung open.

Burke threw himself into the roaring light.