The two Shyzel perched precariously in the uppermost branches of a fur tree that bordered the king's encampment, their light, hollow bones barely causing the thin branches to bend beneath their weight. Erik sighed and leaned back, stretching his arms and wrapping his hand around the branch to reposition himself. Valery scowled at him over her shoulder as his movements caused her own branch to sway. Erik stared back at her nonchalantly, then pulled a piece of jerky out of his pack and began chewing on it pensively.

"You know...that deLucio...what's his name? Dominic? He's pretty fine-looking. Tall, black hair, broad shoulders...he's just your type, Valery."

Valery's dark eyes flashes at Erik briefly before her face relaxed into a smile.

"You're right. And usually I'd be all over him...he's handsome enough, but entirely too dedicated to that simpleton of a king for my taste. You know, after all I've heard and all I know about the king, he rather disappointed me."

Eric grinned at her sudden change of subject, but went along with it good-naturedly.

"Yes, I agree. I was expecting a brutish, tyrannical man who had other people talking for him."

"And he turns out not even to have a little blot of brain inside that thing he calls a head. Did you hear him? We hadn't even closed the flap yet and he was ordering us killed. We don't have to worry, though," she said comfortably as she settled herself down on her branch and ruffled her feathers.

Erik frowned at her. "With deLucio on the job, I wouldn't be so sure. He's been very efficient so far. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up actually sending someone with a chance against us."

Valery opened her mouth to reply, but stopped suddenly, cocking her head in the slight breeze that blew towards them.

"What is it? Valery?" Erik whispered, watching her intensely.

Valery looked up, with a strange smile on her face. "It's Brad."

Erik spread his wings involuntarily, then closed them again, startled. "Is he coming here? After we left him?"

Valery shook her head slowly. "No...he's flying past us. Almost past the encampment now. He's angling away from the us, towards the forest on the Rasminian border. He's aiming for stealth and gliding as much as he can, but in that little breeze I heard him, and no bird I know of has those big, noisy wings."

"So he's joined up with the Rasminians somehow," said Erik matter-of-factly.

"Either that or he's found something suddenly interesting in Rasminia," said Valery grimly. Erik raised one eyebrow at her and she sighed, turning away. "So...I suppose...we should alert deLucio and the king to this turn of events," she said reluctantly, as if not wanting to hear how Erik would answer.

He stared at Valery for a moment, brown eyes meeting black ones calmly. They seemed to reach a wordless agreement in that moment, and Valery nodded slowly. Deliberately turning her back to the breeze that carried the sounds of Brad's flight to them, she tucked her head under wing and began nodding off. Erik stared in that direction for a moment, shaking his head, then followed Valery's example.

***

Brad let out a relieved breath as he swept silently by the last guard of the king's encampment. Valery and Erik must not have heard him passing. He was flying low to the ground, his wings only half-extended, gliding on the low breezes as much as possible, but he had still been worried. Valery's hearing was so good, even better than Erik's. If they had heard him passing, they would have known where he was going and that he had joined the Rasminians.

Brad cursed as he narrowly missed a tree by twisting to the right at the last minute. Lost in his thoughts, he had come upon the forest unawares. Waiting for the right moment, dodging trees and gliding, he thrust his wings out suddenly and came to a full stop. Sweeping his feet around under him just in time to avoid tumbling in a heap on the ground, he crouched in a fighting position, wings folded but ready for sudden flight. It seemed, however, that all was quiet, so he slowly stood. Picking a nearby tree to perch on, he climbed up, checking his large leather traveling pouch to make sure the letters were still safe. He figured it was only a matter of time before the forest spirit made herself known.

Brad had been sitting in the branches of the tree for only a moment when he heard a low growl behind him on the tree. His muscles froze momentarily, then he slowly turned. He found himself looking into the large, glowing, slitted eyes of a Night Cat.

His mind told him what to do even as his heart quaked in fear. Rumor had it the Night Cats were the deadliest of the night predators, with six-inch claws and hollow fangs that dripped poison on their victims to put them to sleep. He automatically reached into the holster between his wings for the two long, gleaming daggers he kept there. Readying himself, he gripped the knives in a standard fighting position, balancing in a crouch on the tree branch, waiting for the Night Cat to make the first move.

With a screaming cry, the Night Cat leapt towards him, yellow eyes flashing in the early moonlight. Brad swung to the side and used his wings to jump effortlessly to a higher branch. The Night Cat followed him, mouth open wide, glittering fangs damp with saliva and poison. Brad raised a dagger and thrust it towards the animal, but the Cat saw it coming and snapped its mouth back shut, dodging lithely away from the sharp dagger point and leaping gracefully to another branch. Brad steadied himself on the branch, ready for another attack.

The Night Cat's eyes blinked twice, then disappeared all together. In the moment it took Brad to refocus his vision to see the cat's body in the dark, he felt the claws beginning to pierce his wings. Whipping his wings savagely back and forth, he whirled and held pressed his large hand down on the throat of the Night Cat. The Cat writhed and yowled under his vice-like grip, but he didn't let go. Straddling the creature's body, he grimly took one of his knives and held it up, preparing to kill the creature.

Suddenly the knife was knocked out of his hand and a dark brown smoke lifted him effortlessly off the cat and onto a lower tree branch. The Night Cat scrambled to it's feet, gave one last, baleful glare from it's yellow eyes at Brad, and bounded quickly off into the night, in search of easier prey.

Brad swallowed, barely having time to wonder what it was that had saved the Night cat before he felt the familiar, cold fingers of smoky forest essence creeping up around his throat. He took a deep breath and willed his muscles to relax, leaning his head against the tree trunk.

"Shyzel? What is a Shyzel doing in my forest?" the voice came from the mist around his throat. It was a throaty, throbbing woman's voice that made the tree branch shiver from the vibrations. Brad swallowed heavily, then began talking.

"Whiperba sent me to you because you and the creatures of this forest are helping the Rasminians fight against our king. I belonged to the Winged Mercenaries, but my companions have deserted me to join the king. I decided to help the Rasminians, so Whiperba sent me here with messages."

He hesitated a little. "Ah...don't mean to be rude, but...can you solidify a little so I can give them to you?"

The woman's voice chuckled throatily and the grip of the mist tightened momentarily on his throat. "Do you think I believe you so easily? Show me your proof that you are truly sent from Whiperba."

Brad pulled out the packet of papers and held them up close to the tree. They were grabbed with invisible hands, turned and twisted in the air. The ribbon appeared to be scrutinized especially closely, then the letters abruptly disappeared. The mist relaxed from around his neck and when the woman's voice came again, it was more friendly.

"Sorry about your welcome. It's a wartime, after all. The ribbon bears the stamp of Whiperba...unmistakable and unable to be reproduced. Come with me."

Brad waited, feeling the familiar smoke creeping around him and carrying him away timelessly. He drowsed gently, pillowing his head in his wing and let the warm mist envelope him.

*

"Wake up, little Brad. We're here." The voice sounded close by his ear. Brad opened his eyes, not at all startled, to find the light filtering through the tops of the fur trees to a clearing not unlike Whiperba's.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"I have many names. My current one is Mariamne."

"Do all spirits have more than one name?" Brad asked, remembering Whiperba's reference to having many names."

Mariamne laughed. "Yes...because we are able to take so many different forms and appear in so many different ways. Our names in a past form do not always fit our current form. Now, I have read your letters and I am very pleased, indeed, to find that you have joined us. Our dreggins are powerful in the air, but not nearly as powerful as a Shyzel. They will need protection from your former comrades."

Brad nodded. "So where to now? I'm just supposed to wait for Whiperba to contact me, I think."

Mariamne's voice sobered as she answered. "I am taking you to meet the Rasminian king. Unlike your king, he has a name. King Raztik. I had hoped Whiperba would be able to come, but if he can't, it is understandable. I cannot imagine leaving my forest for more than one day."

"He said perhaps he could come for the battle itself," offered Brad hopefully.

"Yes. But now, we must get you some food, water, and new clothes. Then I'll take you to King Raztik and he will discuss a plan of action that incorporates you. I will attempt to contact Whiperba today and see what he had in mind. Any questions?" The woman's voice was now brisk and no-nonsense.

"Actually, yes," said Brad thoughtfully. "Why did you keep me from killing that Night Cat? It's a dangerous animal."

The mist that floated near the ground drew up and solidified slightly for a moment, as if it was indignant, then relaxed and puddled back to the ground.

"I forget they can actually hurt others. To me they are just like any other creatures in my forest, and I protect them just as I do the squirrels and mice. You were justified in defending yourself, but know from now on that a Night Cat is intelligent. It knows when it is beaten. Once you have it to a point where you could kill it, it will give up. You don't need to kill a Night Cat to stay

safe."

Brad frowned and shook his head, confused at the new viewpoint.

"Anything else?" asked Mariamne. "No? Good. Come on, then. You can't go to the king looking like some traveling thief. He'll think you don't respect him."

Brad grinned and followed Marimne's voice to the stream. He liked Mariamne already, and he had an idea that it was going to be an educational day.