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a moment of silence.
    “I...also came to wish you well,” Arcturus said. “I will be leaving Belorn with a caravan headed for Valesage. It is rather a strange turn of events, and I...” He chuckled. “I have no reason to be telling you all this. As you can see, I do not need wine to ramble.”
    Kariayla looked up at him, knowing how awkward he must feel. “A good journey to you, sir. May the Spirits protect you.”
    “The spirits...” he mused. “Yes. Thank you. It was a pleasure to have met you, Kariayla.”
    She gave a slight bow to him and watched as he walked away. Only a stranger remembers my name, she thought, miserable. He can go where he pleases. Eleana took her freedom to leave. How I envy them. Their lives are their own. Lost in thought, she did not hear the approach of her overseer.
    “You lazy girl!”
    Kariayla winced and backed against the wall as Clerk Melgora bore down upon her. Her back seared with pain, but the greater threat was before her. The broad-shouldered kitchen clerk was nearly as red as the Blood Mage, her eyes bulging from her face. In her hand was a menacingly poised flesh hook. “I won’t have no lazy rats in my kitchen! Worthless girl!”
    “I’m sorry,” Kariayla squeaked. “I’m sorry. I’ll finish the floor.”
    “I’ll finish you! Think you’re better than us? Well, the missy isn’t here to protect you now!” Melgora swatted at her with the hook, and Kariayla moved aside a little too slowly. She felt the sharp points bite into her arm, tearing through her clothes as Melgora retracted the weapon. She watched, stunned, as the warm blood welled and dripped to the ground.
    She means to kill me!
    Recovering her senses, Kariayla scrambled along the wall to get away from her attacker. “You’re mad!” she cried, keeping her eyes on the pursuing clerk.
    “What did you say? What did you say to me?” Melgora screeched. “I’ll teach you! You’ll learn your place!”
    Kariayla slammed against a table, trapped in a corner. She glimpsed other servants who had come at the sound of the commotion. They would not help her—not unless they wanted the clerk’s wrath turned upon them.
    Melgora swung at her again, and Kariayla dropped to the ground, crawling beneath the table. The clerk’s foot grazed her shoulder, and she skittered to the opposite side. Melgora rounded the corner after her like a hungry bear.
    “Stop!” Kariayla cried, ducking back beneath the table.
    The clerk growled and crouched low, swiping frantically with the flesh hook. There was the sharp sound of a tear, Kariayla’s yelp of pain, and then an eruption. A pair of black, leathery wings flung wide with a spattering of blood from where they had been struck. “ Get away from me!” she shrieked, her voice grating with the force.
    Melgora dropped the hook, and Kariayla rushed at her. She toppled the clerk and leapt to her feet, her heart coursing with unbridled rage. She raced through the kitchen, past the terrified faces that eagerly moved aside or fled from her intended path. Her legs carried her through the darkened storage rooms, then up the stairs, and out the doors into the bright afternoon sun. She ran across the courtyard, oblivious to the shouts and cries that followed her.
    The castle gate was open, carts and wagons filing through. Kariayla did not stop. Past the people and their loads, past the guards, past the gate. No one tried to stop her. She could not stop herself. Down the road, through the fields, and into a patchy forest she ran until, amidst the roots, leaf litter, and moss, she finally collapsed.
    ~*~
    A rcturus was determined to enjoy the peace of his carriage ride into Belorn’s royal city. He knew that his emergence from the cab would award him with many stares and unflattering comments. The Southern Kingdoms were said to be more tolerant of foreigners than most territories in Northern Secramore, but he was a Markanturian surrounded by Humans, and there was no hiding amongst them.