There is a lack of a tail to tell here, no doubt.

XD Quite so

Oh my, I love the patterns and freckles on that poor donkey. This is really fantastic!

Aw, shucks! Thank you! ^^

That's what the kid gets for trying to act like a hotshot. You learn very quickly in that form that such things are not viable or acceptable to a bigger, older herd member.

Definitely. He's far from big enough to mess with the pecking order.

Someone's learning the pecking order.

And fast

"Are you checking out my ass?"

XD

Hey, first pic of Beaumont (I think)! Awesome!

^w^ Haha, yay! Here's a little more of him, if you want to see more range than his default grump mode.

Oh yeah, think I did see this before. Great work all around!

Thank you! ^w^

Hello again, Beaumont. *I sigh* And young Durant. Still trying to throw your weight around, I see.

Beaumont: *inclines his head in greeting*

Durant: *begins to bray his side of the argument, but quiets when Beaumont shoots him a warning look*

It's been a while since I saw the both of you. You, I met here in the minds, Durant. And you, young Beaumont, though you don't recognize me, we met on the island some time ago. *I tap my forehead* The mark was pretty distinct back then, and you and I had quite the conversation. Though I'm not sure how much good it's done you, if first impressions are to be believed. What were you two arguing about?

Durant: *his defensive brays gradually become intelligible to you* Asked... if... then what was to stop us from all banding together and breaking out of here.

Beaumont: Now you’re coloring it to make yourself look innocent. Why don’t you tell the man exactly how you worded the question?

Durant: *looks away and mutters something barely audible*

Beaumont: *pointedly twitching an ear in his direction* Speak up, tough guy.

Durant: *muttering still* I asked if it was because they were too dumb or too cowardly that they didn’t try to escape.

I think we both know I don't need to berate you on that one, Durant. *I fold my arms and cock an eyebrow* And you should know what would happen if you tried. Many would die. These workmen are armed and might even have guns. Are you willing to take the first bullet? Will you suffer the cold steel of the pickax? Will you spill your lifeblood at the head of this escape attempt? *My eyes glow* Would you like me to tell you what I see before you, should you choose that path?

Durant: *retreats a few paces* No... I... I just... *he glances at Beaumont and his voice wavers* Are we just supposed to die here? You harp on and on about black lung, Beaumont. I don’t want to die...

Beaumont: *chews his piece of straw and looks away uncomfortably* If you start crying, I swear...

Durant: *hotly, holding back tears* I’m not crying

It's okay to admit you're scared, Durant. No one is going to laugh at you for it.

Durant: *almost inaudibly as his voice grows paper thin with emotion* I’m terrified.

Beaumont: *his discomfort getting the better of him* Look, maybe I laid it on a little thick to get you to smarten up. Just... dammit. What will it take to make you stop crying?

Probably something you can't give him. Assurance that he will be all right and that freedom will come. That's not your role. *I smile sadly* It's mine. *Then I hug the young donkey around his neck.* If you need to cry, go ahead. Get it out of your system. But you should know that there is hope for you, and for many others. You won't die here, Durant. Though you will endure much hardship. Twas faerie that brought your curse to bee. 'Tis faerie hands twill set you free.

Durant: *bursts into bray-sobs as the walls he has been working to keep up crumble* H-how do you kn-now?

Beaumont: *unsure what else to do, runs interference and intimidates curious onlookers into backing off*

Because the curse that binds you and the others is an abomination in the eyes of the wild magic. There are beings who know this, and who are setting the wheels of fate in motion to right this wrong. I also know, because I have a unique perspective on the future. I've seen many of you boys return to your homes and loved ones. Not necessarily human, but safe and able to be understood. My gift, though sporadic, allows me to occasionally speak words of prophecy and truth. I speak those words to you now. You will be free. But if you are to have even the slightest hope of returning to your former self, then you must learn the lesson the wild magic wanted to teach you in the first place. Corrupted though it may be, it still acts according to its core intent. *I stroke his mane* You must learn to change your heart. When that lesson is learned, the rest will follow.

Durant: *he shudders with silent sobs for a few long moments before he can pull himself together* But change it how? What does the magic want from me?

Beaumont: *subtly swivels one ear in the direction of the conversation, as he wonders the same thing, himself*

What do you think it wants? I need to hear your untainted opinion before I try any form of explanation.

Durant: I guess for me to stop being a jackass... but I don’t know what is considered being an ass and what isn’t. *ears flicking backward* It didn’t exactly tell us when it cursed us.

True, it didn't. Magic rarely does, unless you're specific with it and ask directly. So, consider, if you were acting like a jackass, what behavior would you say falls under that category? And more importantly, what is the cause of that behavior, the root in your heart and/or mind?

Durant: The drinking, maybe... or gambling? I don’t know. I don’t know why I did any of it... it just felt good at the time.

Beaumont: *turning to Durant* You will have to do better than that if you give a damn about lifting this curse. You might act like an idiot, but we both know you aren’t one. Try harder!

Durant: *gritting his teeth* You sound just like my father! “That’s not good enough”... “You aren’t even trying”... “No son of mine is this stupid”... It’s people like you I can’t stand! You pick and pick and pick at what you don’t like about other people but you don’t fix what’s wrong with you! That’s why I... *he falters* Why I ran away. I couldn’t face him or his hypocrisy anymore. *he shuffles uncomfortably and mutters* I did what I did to escape, I guess.

Beaumont: *resuming his self-appointed post* I knew you weren’t an idiot.

So, you were tired of being told to do better, and you felt you weren't being treated fairly. As such, you chose to run away. Did the Coachman encourage this, or did you encounter him sometime after you fled and started to make a life for yourself?

Durant: *ears falling* I was walking... not really thinking of running away, just keeping away from the house for a while. Two people in costumes offered me a ticket for the coach and I took it. It was easier than going home just to get into another fight.

Interesting. So, you chose the easy route, and you wanted a way to vent your frustrations without taking responsibility or criticism for your actions. For the record, I'm not saying this to be hurtful or judgmental of you. Frankly, I'm sure you are very smart and have your own special talents and skills to offer. I'm just analyzing the choices and motivations behind what led you to this point. If I get anything wrong, feel free to correct me.

Durant: *lowering his gaze to the ground and muttering* You’re not wrong.

All right, so what would you do differently, if you could? Is there anything or anywhere that you think could use change? And as a followup, was your father at all correct in some of his criticisms? Were you trying? And if so, how hard? Was there balance in your life or were you leaning too far in one direction?

Durant: *ears twitching out to the side as he sorts through his thoughts* I... I probably should have faced my father. I guess my running away is what the magic didn’t like about me.

*tensing a little with residual anger at recalling the things his father had said* He didn’t bother to get my side of the story. Of course I was trying! I was supposed to take over the farm, the wood mill, and the flour business when he died and provide for my mother if she didn’t go first! Do you know how much pressure that is? Do you know how much information that is to remember? I gave it all that I had and it wasn’t enough! I’d make a mistake, one, despite everything I would do right, and he would threaten to have someone else take my place! Is that fair? There was no balance. It was all work all the time! Can you blame me for wanting to forget, just for a little while?

*he pauses for a moment* The magic could, apparently. It didn’t bother to get my side of things either. *he glances at Beaumont’s back*

Beaumont: *ears swivel backward, but he remains silent*

Magic is impartial. It works in accordance to the behavior and aspects that a person manifests, at least in the case of wild magic. Now, magic can be invoked and directed by casters to do their bidding according to their views, but this is an example of a different branch of magic not generally associated with your curse. While I agree it sounds like your father was being belligerent, I must ask. What was this one mistake? Was it a major or a minor one? The fact your father may have overreacted is quite clear. And the pain it inflicted on you is also clear. It seems, much like most donkeys, that you react more favorably to kindness, rather than shouting or abuse. You allowed yourself to follow what you believed to be a treat, the proverbial carrot on a stick, because you wanted to let loose and vent. In the following events, you chose to engage in behavior that led you to become gradually more slovenly and erratic until you began to transform into a form deemed more suitable to that behavior. Now, then, judging from this analysis we've had thus far, what conclusions can you draw?

Durant: *wincing at the comparisons, hurt by the truth of the observation* It was little things that I forgot, like covering the wood at the mill or milking the cows after feeding the animals. I did these things as soon as I remembered...
*pawing unhappily* I don’t know what I can do other than work. That’s what it wants, right? For me to prove I can be responsible?

Beaumont: *grumbling without bothering to turn around* Been there, tried that. You’re wasting your time if you think working here will make the magic disappear.

I don't know. Wild magic has its own laws and methods of judgement. You could end up ending your curse here by changing, or it could remain with you for many years to come, even after you leave this place, assuming that aid I mentioned earlier comes in a timely manner. Work is important, but true change involves more than just working hard. It takes place deeper than your behavior, though modifying behavior can help with the change. I guess the question is, how much have you changed, and how much more do you need to change? Not necessarily in hard work ethic. It's clear you have that. But in other places. For example, the nature you demonstrated when talking with Beaumont earlier. You have a tendency to not guard your tongue or consider the angles of things before you speak and act. That is, in part, a result of your father's example, I think. But it still came from you. Are there other traits or examples you can think of that you've shown or acted with recently that might require a second look?

Durant: I... don't know? *lowers his head and tries to think of examples*

Beaumont: *turning to look over his shoulder* How about that fight with that younger boy?

Durant: Oh. That. I don't want to talk about that.

... That boy wouldn't happen to be named Candlewick, would he?

Durant: *confused* That's someone's name? No, it was a boy called Giuseppe. We had a misunderstanding about something that happened at Il Paese, that's all.

Beaumont: Seemed like a hell of a lot more than a misunderstanding, the way you wailed on him.

Durant: *swishing his tail agitatedly* I said I don't want to talk about it.

Uhuh. And what was it you said about nobody else being willing to acknowledge their own faults and wrongdoings?

Durant: *crossly* Well excuse me for being a little overwhelmed with the interrogation. Not everyone needs to talk about everything wrong with them all at once.

Beaumont: *to Durant* You already don't like me much, so let's make this easier. *to Omni* Durant beat the hell out of the kid when he and his little group of friends called him to task for hustling them out of some coin at Il Paese. Something about a drinking contest.

Durant: *muttering* I won fair and square. *gritting his teeth* And it wasn't my fault they're here.

Beaumont: Is that what made you so angry?

Durant: *tersely* I don't like being accused of things I didn't do.

... Did your father do that to you, too?

Durant: *ears plastering against his neck* No. That was my uncle. *his nostrils flare as he tries to keep his temper under control*

I'm not asking that to hurt or judge you. More to get a better understanding of you and your past. That kind of abuse isn't something to approve of, assuming what he did wasn't justified. And hurting a child rarely is. Physical discipline is one thing. Beating a person raw to the point of nearly breaking bones is quite another, assuming that's the way you were beaten.

Durant: *shuffling a hoof* He was drunk when it happened. Dad returned the favor in kind. I never saw my uncle again.

So, he does care for you.

Durant: *sighing through his nose* Yes... I'm sure he loves me in some way, but he doesn't like me.

I see many windows and many possibilities for may have happened as a result of your leaving. But I can't see which may be the truth. It could be that you are right. Things could have gone downhill terribly. Or they could turn out with a lesson learned by all as a result of the misadventure. I cannot say. I do not know. But if the source of your faults lies within your pride, it seems the best bet to overcome it is to strive to improve yourself at the pace you know you can. If you feel you've been stupid, strive to change at the pace that is right for you. If you feel like an ass, the same applies. You can probably start by apologizing for some of the wrongs you've done to your fellows. Of course, those apologies would need to be sincere. If you don't feel properly sorry, then I don't think it's wise to offer the apology, personally, save in some very few extenuating circumstances. Take it a step at a time. And most importantly, ask for help. You don't have to seek to change alone. That's the biggest mistake anyone can make, thinking they have to do it on their own. Support is often the best way, because it benefits both parties in different ways.

Durant: *with a mirthless laugh* I always feel like an ass these days. But I will try. It couldn’t make things any worse.

Beaumont: *ears twitch back at the concept of asking for help in this matter, since it is something he has actively avoided*

I think you'll be surprised at what trying can do.

Durant: We'll see. *he nods his thanks and leaves without giving Beaumont a second glance*

Beaumont: *sighs through his nose* I hope he heard you.

Time will tell. I've told him what he can do. It's up to him to choose what to do with that knowledge, and whether or not he believes me. *He sits down* And what of you, Beaumont? What would you do, if you could free all of these and make sure no others would have to endure this torture? What would you pursue with that freedom earned? And what changes have you made in your own nature since coming to this place? I see you've gained wisdom from experience. That much is plain from the way you treated Durant and coached him when I spoke with him. What would you do with it?

Beaumont: *wearily* There is no point to daydreaming about what will not be. I have accepted that I will die here. Nothing has changed in nigh to two decades, so why should it change now? What concerns me is what I am doing in the present. I am protecting these boys in every way I know. It won't lift my curse, but at least it gives me a reason to wake up in the morning.

That selflessness may just be what you need to help you in the time to come. I can't remove the curse, but there are those who can work magics to remedy it for you and the others. I just wish I knew when they will be able to come and help you. I can't say whether you will be here or not when the time comes. I know that there are some of the donkeys here that will, though, so it must be sooner, rather than later. Do you think you can watch over them until then?

Beaumont: *smirks slightly* I wasn't planning on stopping. Hopefully you're right, but I'm not betting on it. There have been rumors that certain things will break the curse, or someone knows someone who will come and fix all of this... none of the rumors have been true.

I'll make some contacts. I can't necessarily interfere directly in this, but there is another that might be able to help put things in motion without acting directly. She helped me and a few others before. If you and the other boys have changed enough for the wild magics to acknowledge, then she should be able to help get the right people here, too.

Beaumont: *one ear swinging forward* Do you mean to tell me that you were cursed, too? What did she do to remove it?

She didn't. She only released us from bondage. We had to find the way ourselves by proving to the wild magic what we truly were by our natures. However, in this case, a grave injustice has been caused by twisting what was meant to be a temporary situation into something dark and wicked. The one who helped me cannot act directly to free you. I doubt that her fellows will allow that. But she can act as an instrument of fate to reveal the truth to others who may and will. And, to be frank, if she won't, then I will. You and the others have suffered long enough. The balance has been tipped for too long. It's time for the scales to be righted. *his voice changes tone as it echoes with an ethereal power.* Isn't that right, White One?

*a sinister voice answers* These are not her threads to weave. They are mine. I will thank you to keep the information you have pried up to yourself, or, to be frank, I will ensure that you do. *unseen icy fingers grip your shoulders and dig in ever so slightly to send a chill through your system*

Beaumont: *looking around skeptically* Well? Is she coming?

It appears one of her siblings answered, instead. *I look behind my shoulder* You know, you never did give me your name, or even your title the last time we spoke. And if you were to allow me to see that tapestry of yours properly, I could be more accurate when I talk with these people without giving too much away. We both know their release has to come soon. And if you prefer, you can bind me to the exact time in which it is meant to come, so that it can be kept from coming too soon. Though I would require consensus from your other siblings to ensure the time I am bound to is the proper time, rather than one you seek to nudge in any particular direction. Though I'm curious. Are you really willing to go so far as to try casting a geas on me at this point in the game? We both know what the consequence will be if you do. Can you really afford to allow yourself to be out of commission for all that time as you recover?

No, I did not, and for good reason. I cannot have you calling me up at your whim as my sister has allowed you to do. The foolish thing will give her title to any beggar who asks! As for the tapestry, your seeing it is forbidden, just as it is for any mortal. That is, unless you wish to be blotted from the tapestry altogether. *the grip shifts to the back of your neck so he may direct you where to look*
Take in the agony of this place. The discord. The absolute defilement of the fabrics of Magic. There is no power in the realms apart from The Hand to undo what has been done. Not yet. Not for a century at least, and by then --oh, such a shame-- by then it will be too late for them!
Look at this poor beast. *he turns your head to Beaumont* Does he not suffer enough without you twisting the knife of false hope in his heart? You offer comfort where there can be none. Should you get word out to caring fae hearts, it will not be enough. Rather, it would tip the scales in my favor to have them take leave of their posts, *bitterly* but of course the Master cannot have that. So, yes. I would have no option but to lay a geas upon you to maintain the course, whatever the cost. My brother would keep to the proper balance of Fate in my stead, after all.

They why is it that Dearshul has shown me pictures that are the exact opposite of what you claim? Where these boys are returning home to loved ones and getting their lives back together again? It gives one the distinct impression that you are lying. Also, which brother, pray tell? Do you mean Black?

And these pictures showed you hundreds of happy endings, did they? Not just a handful? Look at the whole picture and your mortal sensibilities will find the truth gruesome. Your unfounded optimism does not make me a liar, it makes you blind.
*a singsong lilt lends an eerie quality to his vile voice* I would tell you, but I should hardly wish for you to jump to wild conclusions.

Then answer me plainly and help me to see. When can one expect your sphere of influence over these lost ones to end and these boys or future ones, as you've hinted, be released? I may not be permitted to know the whole tapestry, but I have seen the fragments that promise the end, and the fate of the one called L'omino. And from time to time, either one of you or the tapestry or some force has spoken through me about what lies ahead. Why not tell me or show me, if the result will still be the same, regardless? You already know I respect the future that needs to happen, just as you know that said future is influenced by these boys and millions of others like them. Do you really fear me meddling so much? Or could it be because of the fact that I'm not technically a part of your tapestry that you act so guarded about me?

*voice fluctuating from melodious to discordant and back again as his emotions color his words* You are an entity that I cannot see clearly. Your past and future blur so that I see no tapestry when I see you. Rather, I see the briefest flashes of dreams. I cannot trust a fleeting dream, even if my brother and sister find you endearing. It is the unseen thing that stabs one in the back. I know this better than most.

So take with you the knowledge that the perpetuation of the curse dies with L'Omino. You already know the possession of the island will pass to the Blue Child. You already know some of these beasts will find a twisted semblance of humanity again. I have given you another piece of the puzzle, and a warning, and that is me being most generous.

You know, one of these days, you're going to see that you don't always have to be so guarded. But I can't exactly force you to like or get to know me, so I suppose this will have to suffice for now. I still think these children deserve hope and the chance to better themselves, though. And I am also curious. This is the second time we've met. Assuming you're of a mind to tell me, what draws you to me? Could it be that you seek a dream for yourself? Or is it merely what you mentioned earlier about not being able to see me properly? Or could it be we are both in a dream now, where what transpires is not reality and will not effect what is to come in any way? *I chuckle and shake my head* So many questions. And answers that I assume will have to wait. I still do have to call you something, though. And since we humans have a knack for naming things, I want to ask if any of these strike your fancy. There's Sir Prize, Murphy, Discord, Serpens, Chaos, and a few others I have yet to consider or come up with. Or, if you prefer, you can choose a name for yourself. Not to summon you up, but just so I can get to know you better later. Or so you can get to know me, if you prefer. I may not always be accessible, but I like to think I'm an honest individual who means well. Hopefully, that can be enough to at least be acquaintances.

Also, thank you. I appreciate your willingness to tell me even that much. Given what you have said already, I can only assume it must have been very difficult for you.

You are a novelty. I find novel things useful, at times. They breed chaos, confusion, and often conflict, which are the mediums by which I craft my masterpieces. I thought you to be a resource. Now I see you to be something else... something counterintuitive to my purpose. I shall continue to watch you, as I said when we first met, but now I have something to watch for.

Those who have met me have taken to calling me The Vile One. It is a title I find suitable, so long as it is not used as a chain about my neck. Now, do as you will, but remember my warning. Their fate must remain untouched.

Might I at least offer some small comforts to them without offending you?

What comforts are these?

Some pleasant dreams, maybe making it so the ground isn't so hard on them? Some minor protection to guard their lungs against the fumes and conditions here that could cripple them? Possibly a more rapid recovery from injuries. Like I said, little things. They will still have to work. And they will have to deal with their handlers, but at least they can receive some small comforts, can't they?

*sounding nauseated* If you must. These things do not break my conditions.

Thank you. *I smile* Perhaps you're not so vile as some people believe you to be.

*resentfully* Do not tempt me to prove myself worthy of the title, Sir Sunshine. I may change my mind.

Duly noted. So, with your permission, can I tell Beaumont here the cliffs notes of what you've told me?

Be my guest.

Thank you, kindly. *I turn and clear my throat to look at Beaumont* Sorry about that. I'm guessing you're probably wondering what we were discussing just now.

Acrathia: I go through the trouble of helping you escape, and you end up here anyway?! And antagonizing a friend of mine as well? *tsk tsk* I thought better of you Durant.

Durant: *lowers his head in shame and brays a soft apology*

Acrathia: *lifts his gaze to meet hers* You screwed up. Just learn from it and don't let it consume you

Durant: *ears flicking backward as the sullen brays begin to make sense to her* And if I learn from it, what is there to do? I’m... we’re stuck here.

Beaumont: *grumpily* Well you won’t find a way out by having a smart mouth.

Acrathia: Never regret gaining knowledge, boy. Even if you see no use for it now, more often than not you will find its value further down the line.

Durant: *nods, though he is skeptical* Yes, signora.

Beaumont: *lifts an ear curiously at the surprisingly obedient response and glances from Acrathia to Durant*

Acrathia: *smirks at the boy* Good, run along and work now. I would not be surprized if an opportunity for your freedom comes again.

*Looks to Beaumont* You seem confused...

Durant: *bows his head and makes his way to the end of the line to be put into a harness*

Beaumont: He has done nothing but fight and mouth off since he came in with the newest herd, but as soon as you show up he’s as respectful as a choirboy. What did you do to put him in line?

Acrathia: I told him he had more potential than he or his father realized. I suspect I dont have to inform you that many of the children of Il Paese had something to run away from...

Beaumont: *ears twitching backward solemnly* No... most of us did. *considering the information* His father’s the problem, then? And he keeps trying to prove himself. Makes sense...

Acrathia: You are a natural leader Beaumont. Know that there are other way to bring others over to your side, than intimidation... though I do admit intimidation can be rather fun...

Beaumont: *ears swiveling backward and eyes roving away* The truth is, I’m not one for talking my way through anything. Never been any good at it. I’m strong and bigger than most... that’s what I’m good at. But I understand what you mean. Maybe I will tell him what a worthless bastard my father was, *realizing he’s more vulnerable than he cares to be, resumes his grumpy defensive tone* if he can keep his mouth shut long enough.

Acrathia: *stifles a laugh* If you can manage that, then you are truely an amazing leader. * she looks off to the distance contemplatively* Being here, listening to the pain of your collective childhoods, convinces me all the more that the vengeance I took upon the coachman is all the more justified. When explaining his side he told me that all humanity was subject to sin, even children who are supposed to be the most innocent of humanity. What he failed to account for is how sin begets sin, and cruelty begets cruelty. True some of the boys among you came form loving homes and just wanted a taste of rebellion, but how many more of you faced abuses that I dont even wish to think about. Who wouldn't leap at the opportunity to escape that? He claimed that all of you and he were the same, but when you get right down to it, what the lot of you did was foolish at best and selfish at the worst. What he did was the epitome of cruelty.

Beaumont: *with quiet anger as he walks with Acrathia down the mine shaft toward his work for the day* What that devil has done —what he continues to do— is nothing short of sending us to the gallows. There are thirty-four of us here now. Only three of that number came here when I did. The rest, some sixteen or so, died before most of these boys were even turned. Not only is he killing us, he is forcing us to watch our brothers die. He deserves whatever you will do to him and more.

Acrathia: *Somberly* If only Fate would allow it to happen sooner... Still we must take the hand we are dealt and not the one we wish we had. *She looks at the donkeys that are there* I can see why you were adverse to his idea of a rebellion. Thirty four is not enough to fight off an entire mine... still, should your numbers increase...

Beaumont: *without looking at her* We would still lose. They are children. I doubt they have it in them to hurt these people enough for us to escape... especially when we come to know these people. There are bad ones, of course, but most of them are just doing what they can to scrape by.

And if the rumors are true, if we can go back to the way we were by doing what is good, whatever that means, then we will have just bought ourselves a longer sentence. *he stops to press his head against the stone wall of the shaft* Lady, I wish I knew what to do. I wish there were a way that I could just fix it once and for all.

Acrathia: I know not the ultimate fate of you and the other boys. I know not what is to become of the accursed ilse. I fear what ever accolades and condolences I could offer would be hollow upon your ears. All I can do is promise the vengeance all of you so richly deserve, and work to provide what little comfort I can... The time that we spoke of is approaching in one weeks time you will wake up human, and are to go to the newest mine shaft to find the idol we spoke of. Have you selected a boy you wish to grant a day of humanity to?

Beaumont: *turning to face her* There’s a young one with curly hair who’s colored like rust. Giacomo. Give it to him.

Acrathia: *Smirks slightly* Have a soft spot for him do you?

Beaumont: *ears twitching backward* More like a guilty conscience. I was too hard on him recently and... *he shakes his head* just give it to him, please.

Acrathia: *inclines her head in acknowledgement* As you wish. He will be the one to enjoy a day of humanity.

Beaumont: *bows his head* Thank you. I will find the object you asked for and... bring it to the crossroads, was it? *voices can be heard from the direction of the opening of the mine*

Miner: It’s all backed up! I bet one of those asses collapsed again. Someone clear the way!

Beaumont: *huffing through his nose* Let me make a way for you to get through, Lady. It will be hell trying to get out in one piece.

Acrathia: *A dark fire burns in her eyes* Yes the crossroads love. Don't trouble yourself on my account. I assure you I can manage... *she approaches unseen to where the back up is, prepared to harm or heal whatever she finds at the source of the back up.*

Beaumont: *bows his head and walks down the stone corridor to be put to work*

*Back toward the outside entrance a younger ash-colored donkey is frozen and breathing quickly, apparently in the throes of a panic attack*

Acrathia: *kneels beside the donkey and strokes his mane as she whispers into his ear.* Breathe... You won't be alright if you don't breathe...

Ashy Donkey: *does his quivering best to do as he’s told* Can’t go in there... Can’t do it again...

Acrathia: *Gently urges the young donkey forward* Walk with me little one... What is your name?

Ashy Donkey: *takes a few faltering steps* A-Aurthur.

Acrathia: *keeps walking the lad forward* Aurthur... that's a nice name. I knew an Aurthur once, he was a king...

Aurthur: *glances briefly at her* A king?

Acrathia: Oh yes! One that history and legend remembered as the greatest king ever. He ruled a kingdom called Camelot, and he had knights and a court wizard too...

Aurthur: A wizard, that’s... *dragging his hooves as the pair venture further into the mine and losing control of his breathing* The walls are so close together. I-it’s hard to breathe. *tearing up and pushing back against her hand* Please... please... let me out...

Acrathia: Nothing will harm you while I am here. Keep going forward and I'll be here. You were asking about the wizard?

Aurthur: *gives a braying whimper* Um... could... could the wizard undo magic?

Acrathia: *Nods thoughtfully* He could. It is often more difficult to undo magic than it is to cast it... difficult, but not impossible...

Aurthur: *ears flicking backward* But the wizard isn’t alive anymore, is he?

Acrathia: Oh, the wizard is alive, he has just been turned into a tree. He wont turn back into a man until the magicks fully return to this world... There are others who might help though...

Aurthur: *a senseless bray escapes him as the pair draw nearer to the harnessing line* Who?

Acrathia: * Is silent for a moment then finds the will to speak* I will...

Aurthur: *pausing, surprised and a little awestruck* You... will?

Acrathia: *Almost as though she can't fully believe what she is saying* Yes... I will...*gains a more resolute look, and kneels before Aurthur.* I don't know how much I can help, I have rules that must be followed just like everyone else, but I promise you, I will stay and protect the lot of you until I find out exactly what I can do..

Aurthur: *watches her with widening and teary eyes* I don’t know what to s-say... does that mean... could we go back to how things were?

Acrathia: I will try. If nothing else I'll get you somewhere better than here. Can you be brave, and do what they want you to until then?

Aurthur: *worriedly* I’ll try. I really will, it’s just... it’s so dark down there and... and... *his breath hitches* S-someone died yesterday. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die before you can h-help. *he bites his lip and tries to breathe as he was instructed, but he begins to sob*

Acrathia: You will not die... No more of you will while I am here. *looks at all other donkeys in the harnessing line* ...no more...

Aurthur: *he buries his muzzle in her shoulder, beyond words*

Acrathia: * Embraces the boy, not at all showing her customary distaste of hugging or being hugged* Go on boy, hard work weakens the curse. Know now that you will be protected.

*Acrathia turns her attention to the entrance of the mine, her yellow-green eyes glowing with a silent rage. The lights of the mine flicker and die, and are soon replaced with dark purple flames. All who work in or above the mines know that a dark entity has taken residence here... and she is watching.*

(Whoa, that really got at her, didn't it? I'm very interested in what is happening here.)

Aurthur: *takes a steadying breath and does as he is told*

(It did. I'm a little surprised myself. Acrathia is a being of few fears, one of the only things she is truely afraid of is Fate's wrath. Something about this just had her go 'f#$% it!' and caused her to get closer to the boundaries of fate than she has dared to tread in a long time. Not to mention she has often prided herself on her pragmatism and ability to be an observer, even if it is horrific. But I just felt that she couldn't sit back any more, she had to do something. I know we are already doing the Lassiate RP, and I know that you already have a lot on your plate, but I am almost tempted to ask if you want to continue thos either on this thread, or in another RP?"

(Dude. Yes! I’m working on fleshing out this cast of characters right now. You’d be doing me a favor!)

(Good! Glad I can help! Did you want to continue here or in RP?)

(Let's keep going in notes. I won't be able to start until Monday, but I'm super excited! Thank you for this ^^)

(Np!)

Two cute jacks! Great designs. ^^

Thank you! ^w^

Enedia: I blame myself for seeing you return to this prison, Beaumont. I tried to change the man who has done this to you. He is of strong mind. Not weak enough to completely alter. He is more than just a business man, he has something that is unable to change.

Beaumont: *shrugs* You tried. It is still the Coachman’s fault.

Enedia: It is also his fault to see this boy away from his mother and turned into his slave.

Beaumont: *unmoved* Yes. Even if the kid's a pain the ass, the Coachman still did him wrong. Still doesn't give him permission to mouth off about things he doesn't understand.

Enedia: He is a child. He is still discovering the world, and the Coachman has limited what he can do within this world. If you prefer to be by yourself, I will take the child elsewhere.

Beaumont: *scoffing* He's sixteen. He's more than old enough to know when to shut his mouth. Go ahead and take him. He's becoming just one more burden to worry about.

Enedia: I have never thought that of any of the people here, Beaumont. Not you. Nor him. Not anyone. *She carefully massages the ears of the donkey, to let him know that she'll take care of him, and hopefully return him home.* Beaumont, you know better than I about how all these people feel. If you silence one voice, you will silence them all into the animals that you unfortunately have become.

Beaumont: *ears flattening* Someone has to look out for the kids who are here. I tried to help him but he refuses to fall in line. That is what makes a person a burden to me. If I have to protect them while they fight me every step of the way, I cannot do my job as well as I should. Go ahead and take him, but if you please, Lady, let me be frustrated when I have every right to be.

Durant: *pulling away reluctantly from the massaging guiltily* No... no... he’s right. I said some things I shouldn’t have said.

Enedia: I apologize for assuming things, Beaumont. It still is a pleasure to meet you, I just wish that you are away from this unpleasantness that this place breeds. Durant, is it? Please. *she opens a portal out to her abode* Enter.

Beaumont: *nods* Thank you, Lady.

Durant: *eyes the portal a little skeptically* Miss... before I go, who are you?

Enedia: No need to thank me. I do what I can.

I am your escape. I am the one who can help to try and change you back, and to try and get you home.

Durant: *taking a cautious step backward* Someone offered me an escape before and I ended up here. How do I know I can trust you?

Enedia: For one day, I helped Beaumont and all the other donkeys. I gave them a place to stay, food, and the hope that I can change them back. Sadly, I could not. I tried to stop the Coachman, yet I couldn't.

Durant: *still unsure* Why just one day? And why are you taking me without the others?

Enedia: I took all of them. All of them. Do you think that they would get away with that? All the donkeys gone and the Coachman wouldn't worry about it? I could only keep them for that day. Enough time for them to enjoy what little freedom they had. If I take one, and try to revert the changes, the coachman wouldn't notice. If I took them all, not only would they all be in complete danger, but they would be given more tasks that would kill them in mere days.

Durant: *nervously nods and steals a glance at Beaumont, who inclines his head encouragingly* I... suppose that makes sense. Thank you, miss. *as he moves to step toward the portal, time seems to freeze*

*a dark voice enters Enedia's consciousness* I believe you have pulled on these threads of the tapestry quite enough, sorceress. I allowed the reprieve you afforded these beasts only because I was outvoted, but you will not pull this one from his fate. He is too deeply entwined, and although I adore a good catastrophe, I know my siblings will not permit it. Let us save ourselves the trouble of a geas, shall we? Close the portal and leave these beasts here, and I will permit you to pass through unscathed.

Enedia: Listen here, you coward. Face me. Face me if you truly do care about these innocent cursees.

*a mild chuckle* You assume that I care. How quaint. But one cannot face a person if one has no face. I am here. Do you not believe me? *a hair is plucked from her head and cold spreads from the brief twinge of pain*

Enedia: You can manifest into a form of something. I know you can. I cannot let these people have the future that this coachman is giving to them.

*the briefest flash of a rotting face passes through her consciousness* Goad me further and I will not grant you more mercy. Forces far more powerful than that self-interested fool have sentenced these beasts to their future. The Hand of Fate has decreed it, and the Hand’s decrees are not altered. You know this well, do you not? You know that some matters are immovable and irreconcilable, no matter how hard you wish it were not so?

Enedia: If The Hand of Fate decrees it, what lays on it's consciousness? All the lives of these poor children, all the cursees throughout time, my father's life as well as all those of the village that I once lived. Does it not feel the pain and suffering that they had gone through? Do you feel it? The endless pain. The endless suffering that these people feel. Do you not feel it? If you want me to not help or support them, then erase my mind of all that it has suffered. It knows pain. It is clear that you don't.

*laughs mirthlessly* You assume much, sorceress. How do you presume to know the experiences of one who was born when the world was made? No, I will not erase your mind, as that is beyond what The Hand is permitted. Instead, I will lay a geas upon you that should you remove one of these beasts from their fate again, you shall lose your conscious restraint and, with all the thoughts of a rabid beast, kill them by your own hand. I know pain, sorceress. It is my medium and my art, and all good artists must intimately know their craft.

Enedia: If you even dare place that geas upon me, you will end more lives than you will save! And I am not even referring to any of the people here. I am referring to my own cursees. I have removed them from their own fate, as well as many others. If you place the geas upon me, they will die. They will all die by my hands, because of what you have put upon me. If you want me to stop, you at least have this choice. Make him enter that portal, become human for a short while, and let me replace him as an equine form.

Ah, it is not so. Allow me to be plain. When I say “these beasts” I refer only to the recipients of the Wild Magicks’ judgement on Il Paese. Your farm will remain intact, as I happen to approve of your discordant work.

Enedia: But their judgement is flawed. The Wild Magicks' have been used against them by those who profit from pain.

Yes. I know. That is the beauty of it. This twisting of magic is the wretched birth of so, so many things. It is a necessary evil, just as I am a necessary evil.

Enedia: So you know it's wrong, and yet you do not see what I am doing. Giving them hope. I have given them, previously, a day away from all of this. A day to speak the language that this magic has prevented them from saying. Why must you stop hope in it's tracks? You have seen what person that I have become. You have seen the people that I have changed. You see the evil within me. Why do you prevent the good?

*voice becoming more discordant* I see what you wish to do and I am telling you it has no place here. Now is a the season of suffering and it must be permitted to run its course. This transient superficial hope of yours will weaken these beasts, not strengthen them. They must find their own hope.

Enedia: ...several of them have already given up their hope. What about them? They have given up the hope of ever meeting their family again. Ever being human again.

*simply* Then, it is their fate not to hope. You seek sympathy from me, sorceress. You will not find it. I revel in this misery. It is my purpose.

Enedia: Then there is no hope that the life you watch will end in happiness.

*with a scowl in his voice* You would be right, were I the only one to weave the tapestry. Unfortunately, I am not.

Enedia: Who is the other?

There are four apart from me. You know one of them, my sister... or perhaps it is your author who is better acquainted with her. How does he fare? Still an ass?

Enedia: Moth? ...I ...I didn't know she even had a sister...

*chuckling* Not the Blue Child, sorceress. My sister enjoys the form of a white doe when she deals with mortals. Some call her The White One.

Enedia: Wait, my author is a donkey currently? If that is true, that means there is a way to change from this curse back into human.

He was at one point. I do not know whether he yet is. He is not my thread to weave.

Enedia: "Not your thread to weave"? You've clearly interfered with the lives of all these people here, and now you say that?!

*with a discordant growl* As they are mine to weave. He is separate. He is from a different tapestry. Do not try to hang me with my words. I am beyond death.

Enedia: If he is from a different tapestry, why is your sister involved with changing him back? If the Wild Magicks have decided to make him one a donkey, why is she concerned with changing them back? The Hand of Fate has decided that he will be one of them, has it not?

There is no law to prevent her from meddling with those from other tapestries. It is likely she has assisted him because his involvement would change this tapestry, which must not be permitted.

Enedia: No law, eh? So, what I am doing here is not against the law! He isn't even the first to be taken to this realm of mine to see if he can change back! And in the end, I have discovered that I can't change them back! No matter how hard I have tried and how many techniques I have used. All I try and do is make them comfortable for a while, and then try to return them home.

The law is not a two way street, you little word-twister! The Guardians may do as they please, but trespassers upon this tapestry may not. I have warned you not to remove them from their fate.

Enedia: They are not removed from their fate. If you care to look at what I have tried to do, you may realize that they are still here, aren't they. I have tried to save Beaumont and the rest, but they are still here. I couldn't save them. They were returned here. I merely tried. But I knew what their fate was in the end. I merely tried to save them.

"Wha--what is this place?" Qadir stumbles a moment before gaining his footing, emerging from a shimmering rift in space and time that had deposited him, somewhat bewildered, into what appeared to be a dimly lit cavern pen of some sort. The wolf-warrior's amber eyes cast about, searching the area around the portal for someone who was not there. He begins to grumble something about the Fates toying with him, but falls into tense silence as eyes adjusting to darkness catch a flicker of motion. Acting on reflexive instinct, his claw-tipped hand flashes to the hilt of a sickle-bladed khopesh sword hanging by his side, but he relaxes after a beat when the shape that had caught his attention resolves into nothing more than a donkey.

The older jack tenses and steps in between the new possible threat and a younger brown-spotted donkey. He stares down the creature with the blade and swishes what is left of a messily cropped tail. He brays out a warning that, curiously, seems to meld into an intelligible form of speech.

“... know what you are, but touch that hilt again and I’ll lay you flat.”

His training taking over in the presence of a creature taking an aggressive stance, its bestial brays transitioning into speech belying obvious intelligence, Qadir's right hand seized the leather wrapped hilt in unconscious response. The wickedly sharp blade rasped halfway from its leather prison before the substance of the jack's warning fully occured to him.

With a hissed curse, Qadir completed the draw, reversing his grip on the blade in a fluid motion as his left hand struck out, palm open in a calming gesture. Eyes locked on the beast, he bent slightly, indicating that he meant to lay the blade down. As he did so, he pivoted slightly on the pad of his left foot, planting the right behind himself. If the donkey charged, he could dig his claws into the rough floor of the pen and attempt to weather the rush.

“Durant, leave. Go to the harnessing line.”

“But—“

He pulled one hind leg back and aimed it at the evidently teenaged donkey.

“This time I will kick you! I said leave!”

Durant’s ears swung backward and with a defiant glance at the older jack he charged at the strange creature. Before he could get halfway past the older jack, he was kicked squarely in the ribs. A wheeze of a bray exploded from his mouth and he collapsed into a seated position against the cavern wall.

“Damn fool kid,” the older jack snarled through gritted teeth, though he never took his eyes from the creature setting down his weapon.

"You should listen to your elder, boy," Qadir said in even, calm speech as the blade clicked against the stone of the pen's floor. He straightened slowly, both hands held out even with his chest, open and visible. "If I intended you harm, a fool's charge would have been the end of you, even if you managed to knock me over."

The wolf cut a knowing glance at the larger of the two, adding, "You knew that, did you not? And you would have stood unarmed in defense of this one in any case?"

Durant panted and glared at each of the others in turn as he strove to catch his breath.

"If a man... donkey has his strength he is not unarmed," replied the older jack simply as he adjusted the piece of straw that hung from his lips. "Why have you come here? Are you cursed as well?"

"Well said," Qadir rumbled approvingly. "I am called Qadir, the Wandering Warrior; I give you my word that I mean no harm by my presence. I am indeed cursed, though perhaps not in the way you expect--this is my true form. As to why I am here, I know only that the Fate said she wanted to show me a protector. Forgive me if I say you are not precisely what I expected.

"You are a cursed man, then? I have known one other similarly so, a boy dear to me. Tell me, was it the Traitor who did this to you?"

"And it is for that reason I am able to act in the interest of those here. To the miners I am just a dumb animal. What harm could I do?" He took a few cautious steps forward, "Any chance you could use that blade on the Overseer?"

Durant pulled himself up on shaking legs. His ears swiveled forward in surprise at the suggestion.

"Asking me to kill a man before even telling me your name? That is bold," Qadir chuckled.

The older jack snorted, “I don’t think much about it anymore. Name’s Beaumont.”

"Beaumont then, pleasure...and the young one? Cursed as well, I take it? If I may help you, I will, but I get a certain feeling that my role here is as observer. That is all I have been able to do of late, ot seems," a frustrated growl entered his voice. "The more I try, the more barriers I find."

"Durant," the younger jack wheezed, "and yes, cursed. We're all cursed here."

"I should have known," muttered Beaumont. "When has Fate done anything for anyone? All the same, watch yourself, Qadir. The others won't be trusting of someone with teeth and claws like yours."

"Others?"

"This Fate didn't tell you very much, did it? There are many more of us. Not counting myself and Durant, there are thirty-three asses who used to be boys," replied Beaumont bitterly.

Durant dropped his head a little and pawed at a loose stone.

"35?" Qadir sputtered, the incredulous look returning. "I knew that the Traitor was mad, but I had not thought anything to that scale...and forcing you to work in a mine, too...I may not be able to stop her, but if I can help deprive her of this...how long have you been here, Beaumont?"

"Seventeen years, give or take," he replied.

Durant looked confused. "What traitor are you talking about? Is she the Coachman's wife or something? I don't remember seeing a woman at Il Paese..."

"Il Paese? I have heard something of this place, but no, I do not believe her involvement there extended that far. A boy called Giacomo, and my Candlewick, they met their fate there, but I did not know there were so many. Best I do not draw her attention by saying her name, especially if she may not be involved now."

Qadir turned to Beaumont, recovering his sword, "Seventeen years in this mine? You mentioned an overseer, how many would oppose us if we ended that arrangement?"

Durant's ears swung forward and, in his excitement, he ignored the possibility of taking on the overseer entirely. "Giacomo? Curly hair, maybe eight or nine years old?"

Beaumont was about to respond, but paused, "What, you know him?"

"I knew him as a donkey, but yes, that sounds right for him. There was a ranch--if you knew him, then it was not of this time--, the fates brought him there, how or why exactly I am not sure, but he found help there. Many of us did.

"How did you know the boy?"

"He... uh..." Durant's ears fell and he suddenly seemed very interested in the floor of the cavern, "he did some pickpocketing for me on Il Paese. We got to be friends. But he's well? And... uncursed?"

"How? What was this help he found?" asked Beaumont.

Qadir shook his head, "He is well, but the last I saw him he remained cursed. He was making progress though, regaining some of his humanity, but the help he found was more how to live as much a normal life as possible. He was happy, I think.

"I do not know how to get there, but we are ahead of ourselves. If we can free everyone of this place, perhaps we can find something such for you all."

Durant nodded solemnly, "At least he is happy."

"Everyone? Perhaps if you have years to spend," scoffed Beaumont, "but I believe they will notice if their donkeys all leave at once."

"I am not exactly suggesting that we ask nicely," Qadir scowled. "If I did kill this overseer of yours, what then? You seem the pragmatic sort, Beaumont--would you return home, wherever that may be? Would you wait for another to take the man's place? What of any others who would prevent your escape?"

Beaumont shook his head, “More boys would be shipped here, overseer or not, and they deserve as much of a chance as this lot does. I would stay to make sure this prison stays closed. But if we are going to make this work, we will have to make short work of the overseer’s lackeys. Not everyone here is any enemy, but plenty are, and they are armed with pickaxes and worse. We will have to fight our way out. We are going to need to recruit more than just the three of us to take on the whole mine.”

A dark discordant voice wormed it’s way into Qadir’s mind in that moment. If there could be an opposite to the White One’s warm and calming way of speaking, this voice embodied it.

And oh the donkey blood that would be shed then, it said with something akin to dark glee.

Qadir gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the doubts the intruding voice raised. If there was one evil of the world he hated more than any other, it was slavery, but Beaumont was right--if they were to fight, they would need to enlist help.

"How many lackeys, and what do you mean by worse? If it comes to a fight, chances are there will be blood. Boys will die. I will do everything I can to keep that from happening, and I think you would as well, but the sword cuts both ways. If we succeed and you stay behind, when they bring more boys they will likely attempt to retake the mine. If you fight alone, you will probably fall. If others stay to fight, they may fall as well.

"There will be blood, Beaumont, maybe ours, for a chance to live without the chain--er, halter. Is that worth it? If you say yes, I will fight with you, let whatever fate it is that revels in strife have their fill."

"Fifteen... perhaps twenty, armed with pickaxes, whips, and rifles. We outnumber them, but many on our side are only children," Beaumont paused and sighed. "Even with you we are far outmatched. It was a foolish idea... forget I mentioned it."

"You're giving up? Just like that?" Durant asked incredulously. "Without even giving us an option to fight if we wanted to?"

The young one does not know what awaits him in only a handful of weeks. He would not wish to make this mistake now and lose the future that is written. Moreover, I would not allow it. Abandon this plan of going out in a blaze of glory, Wandering Warrior, or your curse will pale in comparison to the geas I would lay upon you. An icy finger, somehow unobstructed by the armor and thick pelt, ran down the portion of Qadir's spine that lay between his shoulder blades.

"He is right, Durant," Qadir sighed. "Pickaxes and whips, we may have had a chance, but twenty with rifles? It would not be a few deaths. It would be a massacre. I am sorry, but sometimes the best protection is having the wisdom to know when to bide time. I do not believe the Fates would have brought me here to witness a lost cause; there must be more to come."

Happy? Qadir thought in response. Though he knew it was the right thing to do in the situation, he could not keep an air of contempt from the thought.

"If they exist, they must have a sick sense of humor," grumbled Beaumont.

Durant sat back on his haunches and looked from Beaumont to Qadir helplessly. "There's nothing we can do? So, what? We wait here until we die?"

I could not be more pleased. Do give my sister my regards. She might have warned me you were coming... perhaps I would have tidied up. A sickening laugh reverberated in Qadir's skull and the presence withdrew.

"They exist, of that I am sure, but unfortunately some do seem to have such a sense of humor. There are benevolent fates, though, kind fates. If nothing else, they have shown you that you are not alone, though I wish there was more I could do."

"But to say there is nothing you can do is entirely wrong, Durant. You can survive. Persist. In a situation like this, survival is an act of defiance. Every day you live, lift a fist to those who would see you dead--well, a hoof, in an case. If there is a chance, take it, but do not cast your life away in vain."

"If there are, they must not wish to give us much help. No offense, I am glad to have met you, but what good is hope without something better to hope for? We are not alone, so we know that we may be miserable together? If this 'kind fate' sent you to inspire us, why did she send a warrior who could not win against our enemies? 'Kind.' Fah," Beaumont ranted as he paced. Finally, he sighed, "But you are right, of course. Survival is what we have. For now, it is all there is."

Durant fell silent and stared at the ground as he fought back angry tears. Survival seemed so vague, so hopeless in the face of the sentiments he knew he shared with his cursed brothers. They wanted to go home. They wanted to find a cure. Survival seemed so meager. He thought all of these things, but could not find the words to express them. Instead, he stood and struck out at the air with his hind legs in frustration.

Qadir watched the two jacks, a growing look of displeasure flaring his nostrils and baring his teeth in a grimace. Finally, when Durant lashed out like the beast he resembled, the Varn let out a rumbling growl as he drew his sword and, in a fluid motion, buried it into one of the heavy wooden posts that constructed the pen.

"You two are certain there is no hope?" he rumbled. "Beaumont, now that I know of this place, of the people here, do you think I will forget you as soon as I am away? Do you think I will quit because we have found a barrier? I cannot help you today, but perhaps the lesson she wished me to learn was that tomorrow will come, and there are new possibilities with the new day. Perhaps that is the lesson for you as well. I cannot win now against your enemies alone, or even with your help, but if--when I return, I will not be alone. Until then, you survive, but you keep sight of who you are, and why you are. Anything less is unacceptable.

"And you," he said, turning his ire toward Durant, "did it make you feel better to lash out as an animal just now? To ignore, to argue, to disrespect those here that wish to see you kept well? Every aspect of this place is designed to make you feel, to make you believe that you are nothing more than a beast. To keep you from working together, to keep you from respecting others, but most of all to keep you from respecting yourself. To make you give in to despair. To make you quit. That should not make you feel helpless. That should make you angry. Do not give in to them."

"Sometimes there is no winning in a situation, but that does not mean you must lose."

Durant gave a surprised bray at the suddenly movement, and his ears immediately swiveled backward when he realized that what had felt like a natural response should not have been natural at all.

“I do not know you, so what should I think? You seem honorable enough, but I have been fooled before,” Beaumont told Qadir with growing defensiveness in his tone. “I will be here for all of the tomorrows I am allowed, and I will do what I do every damned day that I have because I know that these donkeys are people, but you had better show up, warrior. If you don’t, you’ll prove me right, and I’ll know that the Fates don’t give a damn. The kid will know, too.”

Durant looked balefully at Beaumont, “You don’t speak for me. If he says he’ll come back, he’ll come back.”

"No, that is good. You do not know me. If you did, you would know that I have taken a vow to speak no falsehood, and I do not intend to break that vow now, but you do not know me. You cannot know that I will return--hell, I cannot know that I will return. I barely understand how I came to be here in the first place, much less how I will return with help. I intend to return, because I too know that these donkeys are people in need, and that is what I do, but you cannot count on me. Not me alone, in any case.

"So do what you do, every damned day. Lean on each other, do not let the bastards drive you apart. Durant, you have admirable courage, but learn restraint from Beaumont. He knows what he is talking about.

"Beaumont, I cannot know all of what you have been through, only to know that it would have utterly broken a lesser man. You have more strength than muscle, but allow yourself some hope. The others will believe it if you do. Protecting their bodies means little if their spirits rot.

"I will do all I may to return and to help, but this is your fight. Someone who Is very dear to me, like a son to me, he was changed by that island, and even now he is in the enemies hands. It destroys me, every damned day, not to be able to free him immediately, but I think I see now that it is not my fight to lead. I intend to help him however I may, but the battle is his to win. The same is true here."