She walked up the climbing road in the cold predawn, her old slave, a human, staying close to her.  Her wide, leathered nose twitched with the scents. Smells of fruits and flowers. Oils and waxes. Wagons and carts passing, sometimes the grassy smell of a centaur with a load on it’s back or pulling one of the carts.  Traders. Farmers.  Dust. Humans. Her tall, wide ears turned this way and that. Catching bits of talk above the rumble of carts and grinding of the axles.  Her armor, strips of leather with chain,  and greaves on leg and arm hissing as it shifted with each step. Her tawny brown coat poked out here and there showing black rings of spots, the forward swept black mane twisted and braided with colored twines. Daggers strapped to legs and a good sword at her side and a bag over her shoulder. Red and orange eyes flicked this way and that, glancing upwards along the red stone cliffside to the masonry and wall decorated with battlements and towers still another twenty meters above. Gaze gliding down to small clusters of figures setting up booths along the road. At one an oven with fire glow offering breads warm and fresh. Ales. wines.

She led, followed by the old slave and her unseen ghost familiar, her Shadow. They strode the curve of the road and came to a bridge passing over a ravine and leading up to the great walls and gate of the city, glowing in the morning sun. Everywhere, what she saw as prey. Herders driving some auroch, and some small shaggy beasts through the gates while the wagons and carts split up with some going to a gated tunnel past guards in chain with cuirass, while others line up to pass the gates with guards in what was once white bleached leathers. Two of the feline Bahku - stocky, dark maned with pale brown yellow eyes. A bare skin, thin, white-pink with pointed ears and bored look, lips taut, played with a dagger spinning on finger tip. Elf these are called. Rounded eared Humans. Looking in carts. Scratching on tablets.Leaving spots of ink on goods or boxes, while taking coins and delivering them to a box.  She walked to the gate. 

“What bittness in ta cidy, critter?” said an armored human male in white stained leather armor standing in her way, gazing up at her 2.2 meters. The black-brown hair of his face giving him a long thick pointed chin and contrasting with the lighter brown skin. 

“Work.”  her voice is high pitched and whiney to human ear.  “Live.” she says.  She stepped close and looked down at him

The human guard commanded "Back!" at her and pushed her. Stepping back he looked up. “Five gold ta entah, and bettah not be tinking of trouble. We watch you monstahs.”  His smell is that of dirty human, sweat and cooked meat.

Turning to look behind her she barked to the slave “Five gold.”  

The grey haired man reached into his tunic and pulled out a bag.  

“Eh! Why you pay for dis beetch?” said the guard. 

“Dracna of the E!(click)Yelfua is my Master.” Replied the old man.

 “Eh? No slave collar! You free now.” 

“Ghenid chains bind more than flesh. I’m not free until mistress wishes.” 

The guard turned back to her “No. No. He free. You make him free. No Monstah keep human slave in da city.” 

She looked over and past him, to the open gate showing the first light of the sun on a market square, the size of a small village, larger than Dracna's home tribe's camp. A cacophony of color, motion, and smells, with wagons and booths setting up shop, and in the distance, houses and towering buildings at the edges and marching off beyond on either side of paved streets with cobbled walkways raised beside them.  

A deep voice rang from the shadow of the gate as a tall, wide, shaggy Troll,  a humanoid with long arms reaching to the ground and thick backward curving horns of .3 m, stepped forward, also in the white leather armor and cape. “Farca!  Quit fooling around, get the tax and let the beast pass with the servant.’ 

“Yeah Sergent! Doing eet!” The. guardsman held out a hand. “Nuddah two gold fer de old man.” 

She watched  the slave draw out the coins and give them to the guard.  

“Get you ovah to Monstah town, nord, way uddah side-ah city. Ghenid there get you license and papers. You make trouble, they take you hide!”  

“No trouble.” She answered and followed his pointing toward the gate. 

The troll stopped her, and held out a strip of red  ribbon with a disk of  something in it. “Tie to the sword. This is your weapon permit. Don’t lose it.  No fighting without  this” He presented an amulet with tabs of metal in a dozen sections. “Dueling license. Cost is 30 gold. No killing. Got it?”  The Troll leaned in close and she could see the dark blue eyes, the yellow teeth and gots a whiff of the oily, greasy breath. ”Buy one?”  

She shook her head.  “No fight.” Her slave had warned her that the city people forbid fighting with weapons greater than daggers in the city. They are soft and she must try to not frighten them lest they become violent or call the watch. They bow or hold out hands as greetings, not pushing against one another as Ghenid. Harming or killing would bring mobs of attackers.  She wouldn't do more than defend here. 

Finally entering past the gate, she looked around. Eyes wide, gazing at the canyon like streets lined by buildings tall as trees, with four, five  or even six levels and built of red or grey stone, some with wood beams and plaster painted in colors of flowers. The mix of narrow and wider streets between them. The city stretching away left, right and forward, bigger than she could imagine. Bigger than a dozen tribal villages together, or any town or village she had seen..  They walked forward into the market with the growing crowd of sellers and buyers. The cacophony of merchants calling out their wares and calling customers to look. The murmur of conversations and haggling, laughing and shouts. The many things on display. Plants.  Works of glass. Ceramic, metal, and wood. Beaded necklaces and sparkling earrings. Meats on grills. Flat breads. Cooked roots.  So many riches and wonders.  So many others who were not  her people - both in numbers but also kinds. A great white building on the right side- inlaid crystals and tiles making a bright reflective sun design high on it’s front.  

She grabbed a meat stick from a smoking grill. “Hey!  10 copper!”  She looked back, the crowd is mostly shorter than she is - humans, elf, dwarf, gnomes, a few tall centaurs, a humanoid furry with a blunt muzzle and horns, goblins, a few trolls, lizard octnon, bahku. Run, fight or give up coins? In the tribes the strong or higher ranked take what they want. Lower status surrender to higher or pay for favor.  Her status is unknown here.  “Give it.” she said to her slave, and the  grey hair was digging in the pouch again, handing over a silver coin and taking a meat stick also.

She growled at that. Some would beat him for that. She knows that a weak slave lessens her and feeds resentment. He knows that even if he should try to kill her, she still holds the chain (The Aedoteerua) and as a Ghenua (ghost) she would still command him forever. It is all so strange and sets her on edge. With her human clinging close, and so many other creatures around her, surrounding them, she would not show weakness against the near overwhelming stimuli.

A human female tossed and caught cloth bags of red, blue, green, yellow and purple in a circling pattern in the air using just one hand. The crowd tossed coins on the cloak spread over the paving stones at her feet. A lionine Bahku gracefully walked across a thin rope 3 meters above the crowd, her short mane and beard braided with small charms and bells that rang as she stepped and balanced, echoed by the ring of coins tossed on the cloak below her and watched by another Bahku. “Which is inn?” She asked the slave. 

He shrugged and walked to ask a vendor of belts, buckles and pouches which is the inn. The vendor pointed to one lower building "That there is the Gold Coach, right 'spensive.  Them as is 'round the great market here is gonna cost more than up east or north.  Head across the market and up the street with the big trees. But if yer traveling with that brute..."  the human glanced over at Dracna. "... only the low class places will let you stay."  

Her kind are barred from most cities and towns, and feared as bandits and raiders in smaller villages and settlements. In either, she is more likely to bring armed defenders than the sideways looks and cool dislike she encounters in Incaras.  The city of Mercenaries. This was different from her past experiences. So many different creatures,sights, sounds and smells. 

She had started raiding and pillaging as her mothers, and mothers mothers had done. Fighting the other clans and the feline Bahku tribes that wandered the grasslands and lower hills and mountains of the eastern range far to the north. The occasional attack on the Four Legs, the centaurs.  Trade caravans or smooth skin fae or human settlers, loggers or miners. Taken as slaves or bound and sacrificed to speed along to her tomb in the underworld. She had started wanting to learn to make steel weapons and armor. The clan grandmother and war band leaders had scoffed. “Slaves make. We take. No need to learn this.” 

She had known there were secrets the slaves never told. She had daily doubled the Soul Chains binding her to them, twisted the Chains to compel them to talk. Tortured the slaves, burned and cut them to make them talk. First she found they did not have enough of the Ghenid language to tell and she didn’t have enough of the common tongue to understand. She found a slave that knew much Ghenid, having been bound many years. The Dolra clan matriarch demanded two strong young slaves and a chain on her for a hand of days for the new one.  The tribe called her bata, which is a fool or idiot. She long had been familiar with the others laughing at her. She made the slave teach the common. Now she was here, the place that represented a new start and a new way.

Dracna followed the direction to the right, past the gleaming faced white stone building where hard faced men stood by the entry doors.  One made a hand gesture of circled fingers head on, palm up, then rolled to show her the back of the hand and closing it into a fist. They exited the market area, passing a cluster of cripples, blind, missing an arm or leg and rattling cups that fell silent as she approached. Whaerso. Wastes of skin with little value. They crossed the drifting scents of cooking bread, spices and meats. The smell of humans and other creatures. Garbage and urine heating in the sun or or soured and pungent, drifting from shadowed alleys.  The street narrowed, shaded by scattered trees and lined with small shops and apartments above. A curly haired gnome - maybe a meter tall with greased brown face whiskers pulled out to points around his pink skinned face, stepped out  behind Dracna. He was dressed in short legged brown breeches with silver buttons, a cream colored shirt, and green waistcoat, again with silver buttons.   He called out to the slave. “Good  sir human!  You look to need a good shirt  or other  clothes! Come look at my work!”  The gnome bowed as he faced back towards the market and thrust an arm out to the shop on his left , where shirts hung on lines, in many colors and styles, some with metal worked in the stitching. Tunics, Breeches.  

She turned and stooped, towering over the gnome.  “No fancy cloth slave need.”  

The well fed and greased fellow jumped and turned, looking up only a little startled. “Great warrior! Apologies!” He bowed to her. “If you look over the streets, you will see some in orange or ruddy tunics, and they wear metal or leather at the neck. These are the slaves.  If you wish to spare confusion in the city it would be good to dress your slave in colors and collar fitting that state. His dirty robe and worn boots suggest wear and labor, but not bond and possession. I can produce for you such a cover within the hour for a mere 6 silver.” He smiled, careful to not show teeth. 

She moved close, bending low, inches from him and stared, ears down and back “Me care why?”

 He bowed again quickly. “Many may assume he is the boss and you the servant dressed as he is.”  He did not retreat or ask her to step back.

She snorted. “Good others confused.” 

“The city watch may question you. Much bother.” 

She had heard the city possessed many strong fighters in clans like warbands, loyal to those who give them gold and silver. They didn't like fights, though she might hit or punch,  weapons use brought these fighters and much trouble. Even brawling might bring them. She should not take what she wanted, but should give up coins for these things.  She considered her coins and having to give them up in bunches if stopped, for food, for a den in the city, for the cloth for the slave. “3 silver.” she said.

 “Noble Ghenid mother, I must buy the cloth and sew it and pay the rent for my rooms and shop. And I must buy my supper! And I should starve at three! 5 silvers.” 

“ 4 and collar!  Me no care you starve. That 4 coin you no have now.” 

“Four and 15 copper.” he counters.

She paused to figure out the 10 based count of humans verses the ghenid 5 count. “Four and Five!” 

“They say you Ghenids are bandits, four and twelve.” 

“ Me Ghenu bandit, I take!” hand on the handle of the sword..

“The  city watch would come for you. My neighbors see.  Whippings and beating for thievery in the city. Instead we trade and pay coins for things and services. Four and Twelve. With the collar.” 

“Four and eight.” teeth covered.

“ Look at my work! The fine stitches and strong thread!” He walked to the clothes on the line, pulling down a tunic grey like stone- holding it up to her and tugging on seams. “Buy from me and it will last for years, maybe more with care. Someone else and it may come apart in a month. Four and eleven.”

 “Give me thing, four silver and  nine copper.” She showed her teeth.

 “Oh, very well then! Four and ten and no less!” 

“ Me come or slave.” 

“ I need surety, one silver and the rest when you or your slave come to get it.” 

 “COIN!”  she commanded of  the slave.  He drew out the pouch and dug around, producing a silver piece. She swiped it from him, licked it and incited the Rite of Marking upon it.  Of course she has done this to all the coins before, but a fresh mark and double makes it stand out. She finished and dropped the coin in front of the gnome.  

He picked it up and produced a small bit of rag, rubbing the coin ( as if that would remove her mark, she scoffs), eyed it and nodded, putting it in a pocket. “Done” he said. “Veborin the tailor.’ He bowed. “Your name Great warrior?”

 “Dracna, me.” 

“ Down the street, past 13 or so of these great buildings, turn on the street with the vine with purple flowers. There is a goblin place called the Rat’s Nest, they may let you a room.  Most will not take your kind in this part of town. You need to go up north to Monster Town or the Old Fort for those who will. Nonhumans like you are more common over there.” 

Leaving the Gnome’s shop they continued down the street.  Shops opening for the day.  A cluster of reptilian Octnon all shorter than she and nearly as tall as humans, squabbled and argued with a pale almost violet, sunken eyed, dark haired elf over price of strange translucent spiny fruits.  A few doors along  a dark skinned elf with bright eyes, red brown hair and long pointed ears played a rapid flow of vibrating notes and patted beats on the bowled body a stringed instrument.   She saw a sign of a Dancing Cat with cups around it and led them to it. They passed an older human and a centaur at a table outside as they entered - the two locals glancing up from a game of stones and squares and their steaming cups to watch the strangers enter.  The room is dark with only a few glass windows high up and a wooden shutter wall, not yet open. A half dozen tables, benches and a few chairs. A stone bar where a bearded human was washing drinking bowls in a basin, dipping them in another - shaking and drying them and setting them on a shelf. Pausing  as he looked over to the door “What you want?” He asked.  

“Me buy sleep nest.”  

“Oh no. Water or ale, maybe food - but none of your fleas and filth in my house, I’ll call the watch! Get over to Monster town for you!” he pointed northward.  

She could attack and claim a place.  The slave Ikheera had told her that would bring much trouble. Guards, warriors. They didn't do that in the human places. Coin was the measure of status.  She turned and walked out again. The two game players watched over the brims of their cups and corners of eyes, thinking they were sly.  

They continued up the street with it’s occasional tree every 20-30 meters.  A  Church sticks out of the buildings northward. In the rising sunlight her ghostly Shadow has faded, and finally departs for the underworld as they walk along the street. The city was huge- they could walk for many finger spans of the sun and still be within it.   A  strange sort of wall of bricks punctuated with curving gaps 10 to 12 meters tall came from the north and split a few buildings away from the street they were on, arms marching off southwest and east.  Past another set of buildings was the vine climbing a wall that marked an alleyway that going east.   The way was dark and narrow- she could reach out her arms half length to touch the walls on either side.  It stank of latrine, surfur and garbage ground into the spaces between stones. A sign of  a rat in a broken barrel, and another rat with a cup in salute was hung above a low doorway.  She stooped to enter the dark room with candle lanterns burning even in the morning. Barely any light enters.  A green skinned goblin sitting in a large stuffed chair by a wooden bar, opened his bloodshot eyes, revealing yellow irises, like his tusks. Stubbly black hair coverd his head down to almost his brow. He croaked out “What?”, his arms hanging limp off the sides of the chair. A sword hilt visible under the chair between his heavy booted feet. She strode forward, almost touching the chair and looked down at him.

 “ Buy sleep.” she said. 

The goblin squinted at her and the slave.  “You and yer pet?  

She nodded.

 “Water, room, morning and night meal, 1 gold each per night.”  

“Silver.” She countered. 

The goblin laughed, a deep hooting laugh. “No. You find yer own food and drink -or pay as you go, then 10 silver each, one gold for the both.”  

She  thought ..she can find food. Probably drink. 

“We even got Crua” said the Goblin.  Dracna considered. It has been a long time since she has had her people’s greasy, salty alcohol. “Slave” she says pointing to the old human. 

“Don’t care if he shares the bed or not. That’s your business. Same 1 gold each with food and drink.”  the goblin answered as he stood.

She held out her paw to the old slave. 

The Goblin laughed again “ You might make some coin putting on a show.  Some would pay to watch a human mating a Ghenid.”  

She snorted. In the tribes there are no secrets. Mating in the tents or the woods or scrub - female with a pretty or promising male, maybe a slave if she is needing, or Cra-Oang war queen and warband, or S’Oang, the matriach of the clan with a choice male or maybe a sister, the low ranked males with each other, slaves or goats. Why would any pay to watch?  The smooth skin way is strange. She has learned. First the common tongue of trade and the cities. She had traded good strong slaves for this one, so long ago. She had put her Chains (the Aedoteerua) on them all. She had wanted the secrets of steel. She needed a smith.  She raided villages. They worked iron - good weapons but better could be found.  But too many things. Smith works, ore, mechanisms to blow air on the fire. Special tools. Weapons smith had other secrets. They didn’t inhabit the villages. They were in towns and cities. Beyond the tribe’s ability to raid. “We take the weapons.” Said the Grandmothers “We make iron and bows. Slaves and khaengsua ( the dirt under the feet of the ghosts) do the work.”

 Always she had asked the questions. “Why is the sky that color?” “What moves the clouds?” “Why does it rain?”  

Always “Don’t be bata ( stupid/ a fool)! The Great matriarch Negehnu moves the clouds and makes the rain.”  Always the stories of B’ata - the male who marks doors of villages houses for his tomb, and so has a great trove of doors in the afterlife. He tries to capture a spring but ends up with only water. The cunning female Dherrit makes her slave’s ghost teach her where to find iron.  She fills her tomb with herds of goats tended by bound slaves. Treasures of gold and gems.  Always taking the best slaves and binding them, the best weapons and foods sent in the fire to await her in her tomb for the great glory serving Negheru in the underworld in the battles against rivals and enemies of the people, feasting, fighting and fucking - served by her slaves eternally. B’ata burns a tree to bring him eternal fruit, but it is the wrong season so it is just a ghost tree.  B’ata sends his goats to his tomb - but sacrifices no slaves to tend them. His Aunts take them or they wander away, devoured by other ghosts of the underworld. B’ata learns his lesson and so binds and sends the bodies of killed enemies.  But all he has is meat, because only the living offering as sacrifice can live in the underworld.

She took the pouch of coins and handed the goblin six carefully counted coins.  

The goblin smiled showing teeth, fang and tusks.  “This way, I’ll show you your room.”  He shouldered past her and pulled open a door by the bar and then another in the passage beyond. Stairs down.  Another passage with doors on each side.  Locks.  He unlocked a door, giving her the key and showed a chamber with straw mattress, stone walls, candles, pitcher, bowl, bucket and a large chest.  “Bucket is for piss. Crap if ya gotta. Better to go to the pit at the end of the hall.””  He grabbed the pitcher- a tall thing of fired clay and paint. “I get ya water.”

She has to be careful. The demon queen sets  prizes before you, but you must have Apa, the cunning, to know if you can take it.  If you can hold it against challenge.  If it is poisoned or a trap. She had learned to make the books and scrolls talk - stories, poetry, history, names of trees, plants, birds, lizards. Reading. “Weak whaerso things!” Said her mother, aunts and grandmothers. Tellings of wonders and doings of forgotten figures. Maybe worthless except as entertaining dreams and stories.

“Days of grandmother’s grandmothers? Ask the Shadows. It is useless to know, all that matters is today.”

  “Redline lizard. Blue Lizard. Know you can eat them.   What else good are they?”  

Her cubs had died with nothing. Two of fevers before barely talking or able to do much work, one male killed trying to take from another male. Her oldest daughter, killed in her first raid.  Waste of skin. The Whaerso.  Her Grandaunt’s ghost cursed her for weak and stupid children that brought nothing to the Clan in this life or the eternal.  Dracna knew there would be no cubs of her cubs making offerings to her tomb in the afterlife. She burnt them food.  She tossed some daggers into the fires so they would have blades in the underworld. The underworld is harsh. You only have what you bring, what you have laid into your tomb, what the living offer to the fire in rituals, and what you can take from other ghosts and raid from their tombs. She learned that a male, Gazakral, would bring weapons and armor in wagons pulled by oxen or horses. The tribes did not touch him even when he had few guards.  He took the copper, silver and gold. He traded foods, but mostly weapons - paying in good steel for slaves, crua or the coin that Ghenid had no use for or fed as offering to the fires of the ghosts. Melted or whole, the metal was worth something to this male.  No interest in her scrolls or books.  Tight mouthed on how he had such weapons and armor.  She had followed.  She had watched as he  met  smoothskins or four legs outside of villages, trading  skins, metal or slaves for more coin, other goods or just talking over food and drink. Followed as he had gone south and into the dry lands to the great city Incaras on top of it’s hill.  She had not followed all the way that time. She had felt the weight of her daughter falling into the underworld. Her stomach hurt and was heavy. 

She had found a farmhouse with a low wall. Her Shadow could open the doors, and she attacked in the night aided by her shadow and other ghosts she had chained over the years, and summoned in the night. All while her daughter’s ghost watched.  She made offerings to her daughter. She bound things and sent them to her crypt. She bound and marked the man and woman and a child with chains, then killed the captives, offered as slaves for her daughter. Then came the sounds of many armed people - a child or elder daughter perhaps had escaped and raised alarm,  and she fled before she could bind and offer up the farmhouse or the barn and beasts. In the day she traveled alone and slept at night with her ghosts watching.  Ghenid do not cry. It is weak and foolish, but her stomach hurt day and night. What Ghenid call "Eating rocks.'  She had gone back over the hills and grassland to her tribe. Fighting to reclaim her tent and slaves - the Chains were strong from many days and nights performing the binding rite to her. Her three male fighters she had dismissed and surrendered to her sister. The grandmothers did not even have her daughter's skin for Dracna.  Killed by Head Takers and her body left to rot.  The old human Ikeerha, had tried to find her body to bring her flesh and skin for the tribe and her mother.  So that Dracna might take back to herself some of the flesh she had given in making her daughter. Dracna had no tears, only the weight and pain in her stomach. The important part of her daughter and cubs was in the underworld, eternal. Ikeerha shared her loss and they slept curled together.  She collected the metal coins in all their many types.  She watched and listened, and pulled the metal from the ashes of the offering fires. She sorted her books and scrolls, passing many into the fire to lay safe in her crypt in the underworld awaiting her death and claim of place in the clan, surrounded with the bound ghosts of her slaves, goats and beasts, her cubs and daughter Ngokhu, who would share her treasures as her trusted commander in the eternal battles, feasts and orgy of the underworld until the war when Negheru ruled the whole underworld and took back the living world. Dracna told Ngokhu this every time she called her daughter’s ghost, clutching the small things that carried her fading scent and shared offerings with her. But Ngokhu had only a few weapons and the things sacrificed by her mother. Ngokhu was the least, Khaengsua, until Dranca died and went to the underworld. She remained in the chains of Dracna’s brother who had been made Ngokhu’s Shadow, cheating Grandmother’s cronies of the glory and treasure, or what should have been theirs as her daughter's Shadow.  Dracna  suspected plots by Ghost Grandmothers had played a part in Ngokhu’s death in poverty. Her Shadow suggested it was punishment for being wayward, for putting her brother as shadow, for her stupid trades of good slaves for smoothskin secrets, which could be forced from slaves or their ghosts. Her mother too berated her for her daughter's loss and the loss of daughters of her daughter to be chained and commanded to make offerings.  Now Ngokhu had also revealed a secret, an !(tongue click against the roof of mouth)’cheeue, of the dead. Aside from fresh offerings, the food of the underworld was like ashes. Wine and ales, flat and dull. The body of other ghosts, tasted like nothing, but gave memories and dreams. In life Ghenid in the tribes ate roasted meat, fat with berries, hard cheese and whatever was taken in raids. The main flavoring being salt, cheese and bitter herb paste. Berries dried in the sun. One ate because one must, and feasted on the takings of raids. Or on the bodies of the dead- yours and theirs. In the underworld it was ashes or tasteless, unless freshly offered.

She watched, and traded her slaves for more coins. Old Ikeerha brushed her, rubbed and massaged and held her when they slept, taking her mind from her daughter.  And the night her stomach was heavy but not hurting she summoned her ghosts and taking her old familiar human slave that had taught her common and something of human villages and rules and behavior, she gathered a few items, a bag of food and her bag of coins. She marked and burned everything else for her cubs and her own crypt - the Whyetoot tent, her dried foods, her goats, the cheese, the salt, the blankets and baskets, bowls and cups and skins.   And she left in the night to go to the city, where she hoped to find what was missing in the tribes, the secrets that might have helped her cubs and this new life.

There was a knock on the door as it opened. The goblin bringing the water pitcher. He set it on the chest.  “If you need anything, come to the bar and ask.”  He bowed and exited, backing out the door and closing it behind him.   

She spoke in Ghenid to the human. "You stay and guard my things. I will return." She took up the bag of coins.

"Matriarch, the city has some who are talented at lifting or cutting a coin bag so it is not noticed. Hide several rolls of coins in your armor and clothes. They will not be able to take too much if they try."

 Theft from her is theft from him as well. He will suffer more from the loss.  She did as her Ikhikhaen (useful slave) suggested, making several rolls of coin to hide in her leg guards, sleeve and inside her breeches, and took the brazen key, locking the door behind her. He will not run. The Aedoteerua, the soul chain, binds him and tracks him. The locked door will stop others from trying to take from them.

From the alley, she went back to the bigger street, and then following her nose to a baker displaying tear apart loaves of bread. The human seller, waved her back and had her point at the loaf. He took her copper coins and handed her the bread, turning to shoo away a child while asking after another customer's needs. She took a bite while walking up the street,  past large fancy villas behind walls, or fortified compounds belonging to unknown groups. Behind the walls of some, she heard the sounds of weapons practice, with shouted commands. Another,  the moving of heavy things and grunts of labor.  She came to a small market with sellers of fruits and drinks, small sparkling loops of metal with beads, cut and polished stones of brilliant colors glittering in the morning light. The sellers stooped forward and watched her sharply, or waved her back or away.  Wary eyes followed her movements. After a circling of the market she headed back down the street towards the tailor’s shop. Stares and hard looks followed her every step.  A group of young human children with a few young of the fae bolted past her giggling and laughing. One male grabbing the bread from her hand while another thrusts a stick between her feet to trip her. She lunged forward to catch the bread grabber as she fell and took that one down.  The air filled with yells, screams and wailing. 

”Help! Help! The monster has Jack!” loud clacks of shuttered windows opening. Of doors thrown wide. One of the young humans started hitting her while she grabbed back the bread, or part of it at least from the young male. A bellow as an older human jumped on her pulling the child from her and a female started hitting her with a broom. “ Get the Watch!” cried someone else.

“They food make take.” she said while blocking or fending strikes from a circling crowd.

 “That Monster tried to eat a child right on the street!” 

“Attacking children! Stinking beast!”  A pointed eared and pale skinned elf with yellow-white hair and blue shirt drew out a sword. 

She went for her daggers, but found the sheaths empty. She threatened to bite and swept claws to push back the gnomes, elfs, and humans.  Big trouble from the human and fae matriarchs and leaders if she uses her sword. She must not harm any of these soft creatures or there will be punishment.

The children were gone from sight. 

Above her, faces peered down from windows or ledged platforms on the buildings. She protested she did not attack the young ones, turning in circles to keep her attackers back. Stones and garbage thrown at her with more yelling and cursing insults.  

From the back of the circle came a roaring voice “Make way! The Watch!”  A tall, wide troll female in the white leather, elbowed through the crowd, conical horns poking through holes in a white leather cap, a mace in her hand. Behind her, a feline Bahku female with mane knotted into neat rows, 2 humans, a stocky dwarf as wide as he was tall and a centaur, also female. “Erad, Osi and Crias, get witnesses” shouted the troll as she faced Dracna with the Bahku on one side and the Centaur on the other.  

Dracna raised her hands, armed only with the torn loaf “No fight! Peace”  she huffed. 

Around her loud voices shouted still 

“Stole bread!” 

“Attacked the children!” 

“Thieving brute trying to steal in the market.”  

The frowning troll looked at Dracna’s dirty patchwork armor, the empty sheaths and the sword with it’s red cord, latched at her side and held by crossing ties. “Surrender now creature!” she said, looking up and pushing out her jaw to make the undershot fangs stand out. 

Drancna’s ears down, head tipped to face the ground she repeated the word “Surrender” to the three facing her. The troll stepped forward and grabbed her arms, pulling down and harshly spinning her around while the centaur clamped metal shackles around her wrists. Taking the bread from her. The Bahku undid the sword belt from the other side, slinging the belt over her shoulder with the sword behind her.  The troll leaned in close to Dracna's chest. “Suppose you tell me what happened here?” she said while pushing the Ghenid to squat down. 

“Look me. Pay bread. Little humans bread take” 

“A bunch of kids attacked a Ghenid, over 2 meters tall monster and armed? Over bread?” 

Dracna nodded. 

“How stupid am I?” The troll said sideways to the Bahku. 

“I’ve heard better.” purred her partner.  The Centaur stood behind and above them, calling to the people looking out windows for what they saw. 

“We‘re taking you in and will sort it out. Let’s go!” said the troll, pulling the Ghenid back up and pushing her with one hand up the street towards the market area, mace in the other hand.  The Bahku going a little ahead. “O*(side mouth cluck click)Hwee, get your witness and follow with the other three!” 

 “Me no things do.” pleaded Dracna. “I slave cloth go.  Little human make fight.” 

The Troll snorted. “A scary brute like you?  Who‘s your boss?” 

 “No boss.”  

“You creatures all work for bosses. What are you doing in this part of town?” 

“I  Rat Nest. Goblin house be.”  

The troll chuckled “They put you up to some business then?” 

Dracna whined, heart racing “What business? I  today city come .”  

The troll pushed her forward a little. “We don’t just take things and we don’t attack people in the city you cannibal.” 

“No me do!’  

The Bahku looked back over her shoulder and shook her head. “Wild monsters.” 

“Them me knives take.” 

“Good thing too or you’d probably have killed someone.  Murder is very bad.”  The two White cloaks took turns asking questions about what happened as they walked.  What did the goblin want her to do? What she was doing?  Why was she in the city?  What was her business being  in Incaras?

She tried another path- these Watch work for gold coin. “ Coin have. You take.  Me go.”  

The Troll and Bahku looked at one another. The Bahku turned and leaned close. “ How much?” 

“20 Gold.” replied the prisoner. 

The Bahku started reaching under the edges of the leather and chain armor of the Ghenid, feeling and patting Dracna under her arms, along her sides and hips. 

“Neck string” Dracna said, bending down.  The cord and pouch missing. “They take!  More at leg metal.” 

The cloth with a roll of coins was retrieved and counted. “Attemped to bribe constables of the Watch. Bad day for you that we aren’t that kind.” said the feline, checking the other side.  The troll chimed in “The few and proud.” 

Dracna looked confused, ears ascue and head drooping. “You fight, coin take.” 

 “We are servants of the city and citizens. Work for the Watch. Not all do. But we do.” The bahku pushed Dracna forward. “Let’s go.” 

After 20 or 30 minutes they came to  a greystone gateway with a heavy wooden door that stood open. They marched her up the steps and into a cool stone room with narrow windows high up along the ceiling. The room was split by a wide partition rail with a raised platform on one side with a large desk, counters along the sides and an older grey haired human with a clipped grey beard in the white leather of the watch. “What ya got Israe?” he said as they walked to the gate in the rail beside the desk.

 “Foreigner, wild cannibal stealing and fighting in the street attacking children. Attempted bribe 20 Gold.”  The human started scratching onto a parchment. 

 “Me no do!”  

The Whites marched her past a room of desks and chairs and cots with Watch guards in them, and past a door to a hall of cages. They unlocked one and pushed her in. “You’ll wait here while we sort this out. Anyone who will speak for you?” 

“Rat Nest Goblin?” she hoped. 

“Your boss.” 

“Not Boss.”  The cage had a cot and a bucket. Dracna tried to find a way to rest comfortably with her paws manacled behind her back. She settled with back to a corner, her short tail, curled up over the manacles, legs stretched out in front of her. She dozed and watched as the sunlight crept across the ceiling. Hours past. Waiting. Watching. Patience favors the hunter. She reminded herself.  "Watch before action. Listen before speaking."  She listened to the noises from the other room. She maked plans and evaluated options. The Chains are strongest on the dead. The slave? Not likely. She can track him. Can she prove anything?  Only by twisting the chain and making him talk could she prove her mark. But The Chain can make them say anything and is not relied upon in the Tribes.  The Goblin? He may feel he has a Chain on her or he takes her things until she can claim them back. These Watch? Perhaps they will get the true story in the smoothskin way.

She waited.