***

Upon reaching her chambers, Alu passed through the reception and knocked on a small door that led into the room of her only servant. She had to wait almost a full minute before the door flung open, giving the sianae full view of the living room, brimming with variegated silks, ornamented tiles and mosaics. Shada, the owner of this luxurious apartment, matched the furnishings perfectly with her bright clothes, big smile and bubbly personality. Looking not a day over thirty years of age, this vibrant human woman had celebrated her one hundred-and-thirtieth birthday more than two years prior. The maid embraced her mistress with limber chocolate-covered hands and planted two big smooches on both cheeks. Aniallu felt her spine, chilled after her encounter with Meori, gradually thaw.

"Oh! I'm so glad you're back! You won't believe what's been happening here!" Shada was already chattering with gusto.

"Yeah? Well, what's going on?" Alu inquired absently to her own misfortune. Not two minutes had gone by, during which a torrent of news had been unleashed upon her, that she was kicking herself for asking.

"Shada! Have mercy on my ears!" she pleaded eventually. "You're a wonderful spy, only I must be too foolish and frivolous a cat to put such priceless information to use."

"Your sarcasm is lost on me," muttered suddenly serious Shada, her bracelets rattling with displeasure. "How do you intend on starting a new life in Briaellar if you don't want to know what's happening here?"

Alu sighed. Unlike her, Shada was always abreast of all the latest development in "Catville" – from exhibitions and lectures to all the various plots and secret dealings. Her business acumen, her ability to wring out information from just about anyone, and to profit from it subsequently, would put any Envirzian merchant to shame. In fact, it was precisely this talent of hers, and not at all her knack for finding matching socks for Aniallu, that had propelled Shada into the top one hundred richest non-Alae of Briaellar.

That's not to say that her close relationship with the sianae didn't afford her with any tangible benefits: the maid had become quite masterful at selling "juicy gossip" from her mistress' life to hapless spies who had no idea just how detached she was from Briaellar life. Shada generously shared "the Alasais' Shadow's most sacred of secrets" with numerous informants (with the Shadow's knowledge and approval, to be sure), and deposited the proceeds diligently into an old heavy coffer, resting on a table in the middle of the room she and Aniallu were currently heading into. Next to the coffer was a sheet of paper onto which Shada studiously recorded every piece of information exchanged, the buyer and the price of transaction. Thus she obtained far more valuable information than what she sold. The human woman approached this work with the pedantry of an old voracious dragon who had just roasted a crew of thieves in her lair and was now counting all her riches for fear that the prey had nonetheless managed to sneak out a coin or two.

"You're right, Shada," said Alu. "And if ever I decide to immerse myself in the local life, I will no doubt consult with you on every matter. That's a promise! But that's not where my head is at right now."

"As your Cat Highness wishes," Shada rapped out resentfully.

Aniallu gave her a conciliatory hug, then added with a sly smile:

"You know, I keep thinking to myself, when are you going to desert me and run away to Anlimor or something? You can start your own business, buy yourself land and a title, and leave the local princelings in the dust? Eh?"

Shada arched her brows pointedly and looked at Alu as though she were mentally ill, then uttered with total seriousness:

"Nothing trumps the opportunity to wear your dresses."

Alu burst out laughing at the mental image of Shada trying to squeeze her voluptuous self into one of her outfits. She then began her way down into the storeroom – a wide, round space with a vaulted ceiling, lined all over with moss that shimmered cherry, lilac and olive green. On the way there she handed her companion the lengthy list she had composed the evening prior. Packing for the road herself would be an exercise in futility – Aniallu would simply lose herself amid all these shelves. In contrast, Shada more than knew her way around the place. Scanning the labels with her eyes, she nodded approvingly and started toward the ladder leaning against one of the wall closets. She flew up the rungs and, without looking, slipped a hand in between a massive bottle with the contours of what appeared to be some kind of creature in an albescent mixture, and a jewelry case comprised of deftly fitted bones.

Behind her, Aniallu used the time to hoist her enormous leather rucksack onto the table. The buckles rang. Shada turned around.

"Are you really taking that monstrosity with you, again?" she rolled her eyes. "An Alae with a phobia. Even if I told someone, they wouldn't believe me!"

Aniallu gave a stubborn nod. Indeed, she felt a strong distaste for "bottomless bags" – those that were much bigger on the inside than they let on. They could fit all sorts of junk and lots of it, and make it virtually weightless to boot. But Alu refused to see all the benefits for but one drawback: there was a very small, truly negligible possibility that a powerful source of magic could cause such bags to "malfunction" by turning their priceless contents to junk in the very literal sense – worthless, useless garbage that had been stripped completely of its magical properties. Besides, were a bottomless bag to be destroyed, all of its "filling" would disappear along with it, either via simple disintegration, displacement to some random location, or getting stuck in a spatial pocket that the portal hidden in the mouth of the bag once led to. And none of the above options sat well with her. Of course, the mages peddling their wares would argue till the cows came home that their magic bags were totally, one hundred percent safe, but... Rotten is the merchant who doesn't extol his merchandise.

Aniallu had been adamant, responding to all arguments that she would sooner buy a gleemie to follow her around and carry all her stuff than submit to constant worry for her rare magical knickknacks. With time she had indeed purchased a gleemie, only most of the time it wasn't the flyboard carrying the rucksack, but the rucksack carrying the board in one of its many pockets. In fairness, this leather "monstrosity" of Adorean craftsmanship was also enchanted, making it lighter, more durable and more secured when locked than a treasure chest in most treasuries.

Finally Shada hopped off the table and tossed a tattered leather case into the rucksack. The container's spacious depths then welcomed multicolored flasks, enmeshed glass balls, coils of rope, folded fabrics, glass-soldered cards, bundles of hooks and needles, tiny books, scrolls and all the other items on the list.

"That looks to be it!" the maid proclaimed, slapping her palm on the rucksack's bloated belly.

She buckled the bag's many belts, then picked it up to weigh it, resulting in a reproachful look at her frail mistress. Intending on going back up, Aniallu took the bag and swung it defiantly over the shoulder, which should have cracked instantly under the load, but then Shada blocked her way and nearly dragged her to the all-important table.

"Alu, make the effort to at least look over my records! What if there's something important? You'll be sorry later!"

"Shada, I'm sure that every record of yours is priceless," Aniallu scanned the intelligence report, "and I really am grateful, but the money..." she glanced at the coffer. "I would prefer if you donated it to the Cat Defense Fund or something like that. I need it less than pretty much everybody else. What am I supposed to do with it?"

"I don't know. Buy yourself a new dress."

"Soon you won't even be able to fit all these dresses in here!" groaned Aniallu, turning to one of the room's doors with a look of anguish.

Behind it was the dressing room, crammed full of clothes, shoes and jewelry. Moreover, it was one of a half a dozen closets similarly overflowing with stuff. For a while Aniallu had been making frequent secret trips to Second Life, a local thrift store, to unload heaps of varicolored rags. But ever since Shada had caught her red-handed and raised a stink, of which she had also informed Patriarch Keane, Alu had no choice but to forgo this activity, so unbefitting her station (at least in their eyes).

"In that case, I can think of an even better use for that money," Shada beamed a sly smile at her mistress. "You can buy a new house with bigger closets!"

"Oh, for liare's sake, do whatever you want!" Aniallu sighed with resignation.

Slinging the rucksack over her shoulder the second time, she gave Shada a wink of encouragement. Defying expectations, Alu quickly ascended the spiral staircase, even managing to pet the rough hide of a multilegged pseudodragon along the way, its narrow spine covering the handrail and long paws clasping the balusters.

Once upstairs, the sianae walked over to the writing desk. Arranged on it with nauseating meticulousness were papers, books, folders and quills. Alu wrinkled her nose – whenever Shada applied her organizational skills to her "termite mound," it was impossible to find anything afterward. Aniallu had planned on writing a letter to one of the teachers in the Briaellar Academy of Magic, but decided she had better make do with a verbal message.

"Shada, go see Imlaye at – " she started, but Shada quickly broke in with a drawn-out note:

"Mistress, I know perfectly well where Imlaye an Temiar works. You really don't need to tell such simple things every time – "

"Fine, fine... Anyway, go see Imlaye and tell her to start paying very close attention to a girl named Delia. Her family lives on Sun Street in the Guest District."

"Who's the girl? A wizard?" Shada inquired with interest.

"Yes, she's got excellent potential, but that's not the important part. She is fully capable of becoming one of us."

"An Alae?" Shada asked in a deflated tone.

"Yes, Shada. I met her earlier today on my way home. She gave me her candle and said that it was her innermost wish that – "

"Show me anyone who would refuse such power and beauty!" Shada smirked, her voice dripping with envy and bitterness.

"Shada, I can't believe what I'm hearing!" Aniallu exploded to her own surprise. "You should know better than anyone that this power and beauty, as you call, comes hand-in-hand with the spirit. And if the spirit is alien to your soul, then, lo and behold, the outcome is before your very eyes. A lost, woebegone, miserable creature! Sure, the Serpent's Spirit, so magnanimously bestowed unto me by Tialianna, allows me to see destinies, souls and more. But the tradeoff is that I'm losing myself. Every fiber of my soul, Alaean in nature, rebels against it! Every second of my existence I feel like I'm being ripped in half, just as you would be... And you're sulking like a little child whose parents won't allow her to take an apple from a fireplace with her hand!"

"I'm sorry," Shada whispered, almost frightened by the outburst.

"No, I'm sorry," said Alu, embracing her. "There are things that nobody should experience. Especially such wonderful creatures as you."

And she hurried out of the room before Shada could follow up: in that case, what was it that made Aniallu worse, since Alasais was putting her through those same "experiences" without the slightest remorse?

***

"You should have seen me three months ago, Shada, darling," the former tal sianae groused absently, shuffling bundles from place to place.

Back then, still encumbered by her double title, she was rescuing the universe's many victims in some remote world. Her latest mission had concluded successfully. Everybody in question had found enjoyment, strength, inspiration and... happiness in their new life. Everybody except her.

Aniallu was literally trembling with disgust. Upon awakening from her altruistic intoxaction, everything she had been doing with such devotion over the years past seemed to clash against her Alaean nature, debasing and destroying her cat's essence.

And now, in celebration of her triumph, the beautiful Aniallu an Briaellar, Alasais' Shadow and the eldest foster daughter of three influential Alaean Houses, sat there tear-stained and dishevelled in a tiny cramped room, cluttered with open books, albums with reproductions, singing crystals and empy bottles. Muttering curses under her breath, she was "packing luggage" – absorbing information about another world, one that she hadn't yet familiarized herself with on account of being focused on her goal. Poetry, prose, art, music, fashion, culinary trends, customs and scientific discoveries – all this and many other factors comprising the local culture "settled" in the memory of her soul, preparing to journey with her to Briaellar... And yet, even these exotic "delicacies" weren't enough to allay her woes.

"That's it, I've had enough! We'll see about that!" she would exclaim periodically, turning the page with a jerking motion, imagining for the umpteenth time how she would smack around her ungrateful wards, even as she knew in her heart of hearts that she would never take vengeance on anyone... Despite the bitter aftertaste of undeserved offense that would go on to linger a long, long time.

From time to time she would take sips of the bluish liquid in a big bottle on the floor next to her. Memory stiumalnts mixed into the strong wine allowed Aniallu to absorb enormous volumes of information in mere minutes. The sianae wasn't worried at all that such quantities of potent substances would almost certainly ruin her brain in a matter of hours. In fact, she very much hoped that it would. Her non-Alae skin had already fulfilled its purpose, but getting rid of it was proving a headache.

It appeared that this world's creator wasn't keen on suicides, judging by the exceptionally strong survival instinct he had imparted to his creatures. And Aniallu's emotional state was in too big a flux to overcome it by sheer force of will. She had to blunt the fear of death with alcohol so that she could take the dangerous stimulant, quickly learn everything she had decided to take with her, and finally leave this hostile world.

Her mind was growing foggy. She put aside the last, unfinished stack of poems, leaned her back wearily against the wall... And suddenly saw herself from the side. She saw that as soon as the "serpentine delusion" abated, even in her grief she behaved like the true daughter of her people: rather than flee this place, which had caused her so much sorrow, with her tail between her legs, she was endeavoring to absorb all the best things about it. The curious cat inside her badly, desperately wanted to live, to be inspired by the Infinite's many wonders – to be herself. She jumped on every opportunity to peek her whiskered muzzle out of this dismal marsh. Aniallu's heart ached with pity... for herself.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Five hours later, grim and resolute, Alu walked out of the secret door of her Briaellar house. Barely responding to friends' greetings, barely even looking around her, she started toward the southern part of the city, to Alasais' Palace.

She was admitted without delay. High Priestess Gweliaryn rose to meet her and motioned at a seat next to her own chair. Aniallu needed to speak her mind, and she was given all the opportunity to do so. She kept talking and talking: about not wanting to do this job any longer, and about why she didn't want to do it. She could not continue helping creatures she didn't know, didn't know, didn't care a fig about, and she didn't want anyone, much less a different Nae, to implant in her Alaean head feelings, desires and aspirations adverse to the nature of all Alasais' creatures. The priestess nodded with understanding, half-closing her eyes as a sign of her favor and trust in Aniallu. And when Alu finally finished her homily, Gweliaryn held a long pause, gazing into the feverishly glowing eyes of her visitor, and said cheerily:

"If you don't want to help the creatures we point out to you, then don't. You are free to choose your own path, and only your heart can decide to whom you will extend your hand."

She said all that without even a hint of anger or judgment toward Aniallu for stepping down from her service. Gweliaryn didn't even appear surprised.

"I will ask of you only one thing: I want you to officially retain the title of tal sianae. As for the obligations that the title imposed on you, of those you are henceforth free."

Startled by such an easy consent to release her, Aniallu thanked the High Priestess and immediately left the Palace. She was happy that Gweliaryn hadn't tried to shame her, yet she still sensed a ruse in the High Priestess' words. And as the story with Dany the Daorean proved later, her premonition didn't fail her...