There was little the black stone wall could do to protect her now. Anni Purpabene had met the limit of the clock’s mercy, and now it was time to tuck tail to fur and see what it meant to live a free child. Only she was no longer a pup, but a jucess grown, of age. 

 The djarrars behind the wall no longer meant a thing. All that stood before her in the City of Indil was to be her home from this point on, whatever that meant. Anni could create no illusions of grandeur; the capital would mean her no good will. Her fur stayed blue and her name bore no Sel; she knew she could not be loved.   

  “Take a gentle-juc’s bed tonight.” The keeper had said in final testament. “Storm’s coming down the gulf and your dignity won’t save you through that. Find a juc with hard walls and a fat purse, and you might just survive long enough out there to witness the coronation.” They were perhaps the kindest words her former master had ever spoken to her. She supposed she should feel blessed.

  The winds were indeed picking up early. Dry leaves of the autumn rolled down the pairch stone streets, and the clouds were blanketing the skies. This one would be bad, Anni felt it in her bones, wondering would Hao weather it better than she.

  Hao, the wound his disappearance had left her with was festering. How could he have been so stupid? So selfish? 

  “To Col with you, Hao!” she swore alone, taking the streets like any other floundering leaf. “Why’d you have to do it?” This was what she doubted she would ever understand. He must have known it would be his death; the city guard alone were known to be without mercy. But those were Imperial Champions he’d shown his rage to. Their efforts to uphold the law formed legend; they were Emperors in the making. Born to uphold the peace.

  All that aside, Anni knew finding shelter tonight would be tough. Every inn south of the Black Wall was well known to be booked full. Even what spaces there were in the orphanages had been reserved for other mid-rate families looking through all the excitement of the funeral to offload what pups they could in the hopes of having their blood mixed into the higher breeds of those Champions. 

  “Looking for someone, sweetheart?” A voice rose out. She knew calls such as these were what could be expected to come down the boardwalk. Anni dipped her head and curled her tail, offering naught but polite apologies. The speaker, one of a small group, smiled his yellow-toothed smile and waved her on her way. “Not to mind.” He said after her. “Blues not my flavour, love.”

  It was a narrow an escape as she would like to commit. Though the hour was still early, and that kind had barely begun. It was the way of this side of town; ale here came as rich as gems. And the kin, a brotherhood of merchants and sailors, brought that currency to life with rambunctious vigour. 

 The taverns of the river piers sang out with the curses and joys of those juc. Solitary Ann, The Dingil’s Throat, Marcapier, The Jolly Berth, the boarded welcome signs all called out in familiarity as they swung from their rusted chains in the growing wind. It was a place no young girl should be, not even in company. For Anni Purpabene, though, it was the only place to turn. She took her time; she judged the boardwalk as best could be, and with no warm feelings, entered the crack-shelled frame of The Jolly Berth. 

  Smoke stung her eyes upon entry, rendering meaningless what her vision could tell her and leaving all senses confined to the crinkling of her nostrils. The air stank of ale and cree, vomit and piss, but most of all, the cloying stench owed to the odour of unwashed juc. It was said that sailors were the filthiest of all animals, and that was why their only wilful lovers were creatures of myth.

Before her eyes could adjust and rob her of all confidence, she spoke out to the silence the Jolly Berth presented. “I seek a juc with his own boat.” Her only answer, a cough from a far dark corner.

  Piece by piece the tavern revealed itself; there were only a handful of juc to be seen. 

  In the back, near where the cough had been coughed, sat an empty stage, still uncleaned from the night before and bearing homage to an array of smashed jugs and broken chairs. The far opposite end housed the bar itself, where a lone bartender sat on his stool with a lean to the wall and an empty flagon to his hand. His snore was perhaps the loudest noise the tavern had to offer.

  The only life that was to be found came in the form of a grouping of five sailors deep in a heavy cloud of concentration, centred about the trinkets of Bryl. It was not an unknown game to Anni, though she would never be known to play. What she had come to learn was that any gambler involved never did like to be disturbed during the hand of play. There was etiquette to be followed, even in such a place as this.

  She waited in the heavy silence with a shuffle in her feet and a tempo in her heart, choking on the smoke of heavy tobacco and the stench of ale. If nothing else, the silence of the Jolly Berth at least made some sense along the boulevard of tragic tune. These sailors were not conscripts or ratings, these had epaulettes attached to their fur that declared each an officer. Three ensigns, a sub-lieutenant, and a lieutenant. Imperial juc, everyone, a far greater encounter than meeting ilk of the merchant navy.

  They played out their hand and another, all without a glance about them. The lieutenant, a Gallipa by the ginger of his mane, coughed loudly with the hack associated with mounting flem, and raised a singular finger the direction of the barkeep. It took yet another full round before the juc’s patience ran as dry as his horn.

  “Javier!” he yelled to no response. It then took the smashing and subsequent raining of his glass over the barkeep’s head to wake the doleful servant. The other sailors whooped their delight and laughed out so loud one ensign stumbled half from his chair. 

  Javier, it was to be said, was not at all pleased. Anni watched the confrontation with a cautious eye. It was not too late to back out of the tavern now. Perhaps she should do, though that would mean a near certain night to come in the storm’s open. Javier’s blood-streaked eyes glared at his patrons. He was a big juc, robust and thick-maned man with an aged thickness about him that made him appear as solid as a torvet.

   “The fuck you think?!” Javier roared, his fists curled into mallets. “Bloody ingrates!

The fuck out of my bar!” 

  The sailors quieted, all but the lieutenant, who rose with a playful smirk. “You’ve slept the night through, my friend. My boys have tired of raiding your pantries. Would it be so much to ask for a little bloody service?”

Javier bent over; when he rose, he came with a shard of the lieutenant’s broken glass. “You raid my stores?” Anni had never seen such murder in an expression before.

  “Your stores, your bar, that hole between your wife’s legs. It might be more of a caution for you to stay your wake with guests at hand.”

  “You’re no guest; guests mind their bleeding noses!” Anni might have feared a greater fire, but the burly barkeep seemed to tire of the rant. “I catch a single wandering cock behind my doors, I cut the fucking thing off!” He paced off with a heavy thud back behind his bar. “Shove them inside that little bitch behind you.”

  That was when the sailors noticed her. “Wouldn’t mind if I did,” the same ensign who had almost slipped his chair said with a leer. “Always was a fan of seafood.”

  Anni ignored him and focused on the lieutenant. “I’m in need of a passage.” It was the wrong phrase to use. No sooner had the words vacated her mouth than the sailors were jumping on the easy quips. “I have gems,” she held forth her satchel, “I will pay my board if any of you would only be so kind as to take me as far upstream as you would be so generous to go.”

  “Oh, you might find my boys to be plenty generous.” The lieutenant smiled. “Kind too, for the right price.” He made a visible effort to pull a sixth seat toward their private table. “How much you willing to pay?”

  “Bugger the chair, Sir. I got a seat for the little bitch right ere!” 

Anni did not move. “I’m fine to stand, thank you.” Again, to the senior officer she said. “I will pay five silver gems if you could take me as far as Riverstone at the base of the Pei...”

  “I know where Riverstone is.” He shook his head sadly, though, and took to his chair once more. “Problem is that five silver gems aren’t gonna buy you a gangway to set foot to. We’re navy juc, pup, servants to the glory of the empire. It’d be a darn shame to all the brave juc and she-juc that have served Ghittana before us if our honour were to be sold so cheaply.” 

  “I can go as far as eight.” She reasoned.

  “And we can go as far as the docks.” He countered. To Javier, he barked. “My thirst is struggling to quench itself over here.” He lifted one of his companion’s empty horns with a shake. “Treights if you would, my friend. One for the pup, too.”

  “No, thank you,” Anni shook her head. “I don’t drink.”

  That was apparently one of the funniest lines the Jolly Berth’s patrons had ever heard.

  “To Col, you don’t, you little wench.” One ensign roared. “Are you juc? I see a tail and a mane, but a belly lacking ale, that’s not the least bloody true!”  

  “I’m Purpabene.” She knew the response should answer itself. “We never...”

  “She’ll drink.” The lieutenant purred as the first of the refilled horns hit the bar counter. “She’ll help poor Javier out and bring us our ales, one for herself too. Then she’ll take this seat and join our game.”

  Anni did not care at all for the way in which the ‘proposal’ was given. “Oh no,” she said, now backing away to the safety of the door. “I believe I have come to the wrong tavern. No ale, no Bryl. I am sorry to have wasted your time...”

  “Sit!” The lieutenant’s singular command cracked the air. His boys too rose from their seats, their smiles no longer joyful. “You don’t want to be caught out there in that storm.” 

  What could she do? There were five of them and one of her. She came back to take her seat. 

  “Not so fast, Pup. The ale...”

Hiding her concerns, Anni moved to take the waiting horns from the barkeep and his mocking smile. It took her three walks to bring the beverages before the ensign asked. “Did you make sure that clown poured Treights?”   

  “I didn’t think to check...” Anni replied honestly.

  “Tell him I poured it from my fucking cock, the wanker!” Javier cried out hoarsely.

“And tell him to wipe his bloody snout after.”

  The ensign scoffed, and the lieutenant leaned in as she took her seat and whispered. “It could only be an improvement if he did.” His smile though stayed its focus on Anni’s satchel. “How much you got in there?”

  Anni pawed at the coloured gems inside her purse, “Fifteen silvers, two bloods and an ivy.” That much was the truth. Little more would she keep to an open purse. 

  The officer watched her knowingly. “All right, as it so happens, that’ll cover your buyin... minus the costs of our questionable treights.” He saved her the hassle of emptying the satchel herself, the coloured gems bouncing as they hit the histlemari tabletop. “What you got there’s not worth the fur on my arse, but shall fate be kind... you might still win your way aboard my ship.”

  She did not. It took a half hour before the trinkets of Bryl found the last of her silvers. It was the ensign on her left took the most of it; three badly timed hands were all it had taken. Anni sat back, aghast and shaken. “I told you I could not play.”  

  “Yet you did.” The lieutenant shrugged. “Pity for you, joy for us. I fear you won’t be able to pay your way aboard though.” His hands rose helplessly. “Sorry.”

  We are Purpabene, she remembered the quote she would so often need to remind her brother of, we shall stand where all others fall. This battle was lost. The Jolly Berth could offer her no more. “Then I shall be on my way.” The chair creaked along the floorboards as she rose.

  The lieutenant’s hands were quicker. Anni gasped as the cold touch of ale damp fur drove its way down her front into the warmer folds of her pouch. “Get out!” She screamed at the intrusion, too slow to catch the juc from snatching the contents hidden inside. 

  His fist caught her next, colliding between throat and snout. The blow left Anni reeling and fighting for breath. “No!” she tried again desperately through the pain as the ensign shoved her down. “You can’t... that’s everything...”

 Anni heard more than saw the lieutenant fingering the contents of her second purse.

“Now I believe you.” He said with a purr and a whistle. “There’s a lot in here, girly. What’s a little bitch like you doing with all these gems, I would wonder?”

  “Probably a thief.” The sublieutenant chimed in. “Good thing we were here to ensure such wicked deeds did not go unpunished.”

  “Quite right.” The officer kneeled and took Anni’s hand in his. 

  She could feel the gems there within his grasp. Her gems. “My father,” she tried through her pained airways. “That’s all I have of him...”

  The lieutenant pulled her hand to the folds of his own belly, and with strength beyond her own, forced the gems to fall from her touch down to the depths of his own deep pouch. “Before he abandoned you? Left you to rot in the backstreets beyond the black stone wall? So many thieves come crawling out from behind that wall, so many of those soon find themselves in deep trouble.”

  “Sad little fish girl,” the ensign sneered, punctuating it with a kick that sent Anni sprawling. Her purse burst open, gems scattering across the floor. The lieutenant scooped them up with a grin.

  The sailors roared with laughter.

  Before Anni could scramble away, a rough hand seized her arm.

  “Up you get,” the lieutenant growled. “We’re not done with you.”

  She cried out as they hauled her upright, dragging her toward the tavern door. Her feet scraped across the sticky floorboards, her breath coming in panicked bursts.

  “Let’s take this outside,” one sailor said. “More room to play.”

  The others agreed with a chorus of ugly chuckles.

  They shoved through the tavern doors and spilled into the rain slick street, dragging Anni with them. The cold hit her like a slap. She stumbled, nearly falling, but the lieutenant yanked her upright again.

  “Pathetic,” he said. “A Purpabene that can’t so much as stand on its own two feet.”

  The sailors spread out around her, forming a loose ring. Their laughter echoed off the narrow stone walls, too loud, too confident, too sure of their own cruelty.

  Then the laughter faltered.

  Not all at once. More like a ripple. One sailor’s grin faded. Another’s voice died mid taunt.

  The lieutenant frowned, “What’s gotten into you lot.” And then he turned.

  A figure stood at the far end of the street.

  Still. Silent. Unmoving.

  Rain slid down the deep green of his armour, pooling in the grooves of the steel. The crest of Indil; two moons over a raging sea, caught the lantern-light in a cold, pale shimmer. His mane hung wet and heavy, but his emerald eyes burned through the darkness.

  He didn’t speak.

  He didn’t need to.

  The sailors felt it first. The weight of him. The sense that something ancient and merciless had stepped into their path.

  Anni’s breath caught.

  Orion.

  Former Imperial Champion. High Lord of the late Emperor’s Court. Liege lord of Indil.

 And in this moment, he looked carved from the storm itself.

  “Back away from the girl and give back all that you have stolen from her.”

  The lieutenant fumbled with the purse, nearly dropping it in his haste. He thrust it toward Anni without meeting her eyes.

  “Now leave,” Orion said.

  The sailors scattered. No laughter now, no swagger, only the frantic slap of footpads on wet stone.

  Only when they were gone, did Orion turn to her.

  In reflex, she retreated toward the shadows.

  “You may relax, girl,” he said. “No harm will come to you.”

  She straightened, trembling as he closed in on her and lifted his gauntleted hand.

  She gasped and then felt the rough edges of her purse fall back into her touch.

  “You’re a fool for entering a place like that,” he motioned toward the tavern. “A greater fool for staying once you had. There’s little chivalry left in the Capital. And though those juc may not have raped you, they would have gotten their way. I expected more of you, Anni.”

  She gasped. “You... you know who I am?”

  Orion reached into his cloak and drew out a pair of manacles. The metal gleamed like wet bone.

  Anni stepped back. But he was faster. A heartbeat later, her wrists were bound.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  But she knew why... Hao.

  Yet the warmth in his emerald eyes seemed to contradict that.

  Like there was something else.

  “I know why you wish to flee the city,” he said. “I would too, if all that lay ahead was a life of cruelty.”

  Thunder rumbled overhead, her throat constricting with the roar.

  “But the gods are nearing their decision,” he continued. “The new Ghittanan Emperor will soon be chosen from among the Champions.”

  He tightened the manacles gently, almost reverently.

  “And when he comes to power... he will have need of you, Anni Purpabene.”