Hurry, hurry

	Linus Vorth was never a subtle man.  As he rode Noble through the shadows of the dense forest of Neverwinter, he watched in awe as Vleria deKestral guided them with her stealth magic.  He had worked with rangers, druids, sharpshooters, and others who worked the ways of quiet and stillness, and never in his life had he witnessed a more perfect display of concealment magic.  He wasn’t even invisible, he was pretty sure, but it was like the eyes of the universe just turned away from him.

	deKestral walked thrugh the woods in total silence, and even Noble’s mighty hooves seemed to be quiet as they walked.  Birds flew between them like they weren’t even aware of the Paladin or the monk.  A fox scurried past them, chasing a mouse through the brush.  It was uncanny.  If he hadn’t known it was holy work, he’d have called it unnatural.

	She was talking, but so quietly that he could barely hear her.  “The devil Mephiston made a trap, you see,” she said.  “The chamber in which he had trapped the souls of the alchemists he had enslaved to write books for his library was enterable only by those who had also sold their souls, or never had one, like him.”

	“And none in your party had,” Linus murmured.

	“No.”  Vleria moved in total silence to the next tree.  It was awe-inspiring to watch.  Even the halflings and elves in his own parties of the past has never been so stealthy, and deKestral was a monk, not a ranger or druid.  “I petitioned my Lady, and she was kind,” she said.  “There were souls at stake.  Mine included.”  She paused to listen, then resumed her silent walk.  “Normally, free will is the highest and the sacrosanct, the thing no Seldarine would ever take from their children… but I offered it freely, and I had earned her trust.”

	Linus shuddered.  “I do not feel horror or pain at my decision,” deKestral noted lightly.  “And the terms were most generous.  Paradise.  Power beyond the path of the monastic.  Prophecy.  Her sweet dreams, and the long life and perfect health of the Arvandor-dweller so long as I revere her.”  The ancient monk slipped through the darkness like a falling leaf.  “And I do.”

	“I am in awe,” Linus admitted.  He had known most of that, of course, but he felt like she needed somebody to talk to.  She was like Axiopistos had been; she was a being of the divine in a way he could never be.  So, he just listened.

	deKestral fell silent as they followed Lumira’s path.  “We are… drawing closer,” she murmured.  The sun was dropping lower, but the light around them hadn’t died yet.  “Soon we shall arrive.  There are hoofprints in the loam.”


	Slicce led Lumira through the woods, chattering happily as she did so.  She set a brisk pace, especially for a pregnant woman, but Lumira was able to keep up with a bit of panting.  They talked about nonsense things, words of reunion and expectation, but satyrs are not subtle beasts, and at last, Lumira could keep her tongue no longer.

	As they strode past a vast dead tree, populated by fungi and chipmunks, Lumira cleared her throat.  “Er, Slicce,” she asked.  “Do you know who the father of your baby is?”

	“I do!  The Dance Lord himself,” Slicce said happily.  “He has made me the leader of his tempt when he is away, and sired our child to bond us.”

	Lumira smiled carefully.  “Oh, congratulations,” she said.  Now that she was looking, she didn’t see any claws on Slicce’s hands.  Had the old priest man been wrong?  “Have you been having security problems?”

	“Security?”  Slicce looked at her curiously.  “How do you mean?”

	“I mean, this whole demon attack yesterday, the one I told you about,” Lumira said.  “Have they been hitting you, too?”

	Slicce turned around, her eyes wide.  “Demon?  You said nothing of demons.  You said Viri lost a tooth in a fight.”

	“To a demon.  I guess I forgot that part.”  Lumira searched for words.

	Slicce spoke up while Lumira thought quickly.  “Say, where is Viri?  Is she following us?”

	“Er, perhaps, I don’t know,” Lumira said.  “I was exiled from the town after the revel last night.”

	“Exiled?  Oh, dear,” Slicce said, as if that hadn’t been half the plan.  Already, she could see the slivers of her mind entering the gaps in Lumira’s self-conception, slowly prying them open and making her more pliable for the Dance Lord.  “Well, you need never worry about such things in the Dance Lord’s tempt.”

	“Hmm.”  Lumira took a deep breath.  “Did I see you using some kind of hooks last night?”

	Slicce blinked.  That was unexpected.  “Hooks?”

	“Or… claws?” Lumira asked.

	Slicce laughed.  She held up her hands with her claws retracted.  “No, silly!  You did drink too much!”

	Lumira laughed, relieved.  “Oh, good.”  They walked in silence for a few more minutes before speaking.  “You know, the Paladin who healed us is in town.”

	“Linus?  Yes, we know.  He buzzes in and out once in a while.”  Slicce shook her head.  “Never stops to chat.”

	“He hates satyrs.  A lot.”

	“Well, that’s because he’s prudish and callow,” Slicce sniffed.  “He’s afraid of the pleasure we grant others.  And ourselves.”

	Lumira shifted her shoulders uncomfortably.  “I think maybe this plane just doesn’t play well with the Feywild way of thinking.”

	“Oh, that’s our problem?” Slicce snorted.  “Hang that!  We live, we dance, we fuck, we sing, we are happy.  Let Primes bother each other and dance to our tunes.  Who cares?”

	“Yeah.”  The metastasizing feeling of righteousness in Lumira’s heart blossomed into a devil-may-care smile on her face.  “Yes.  Hang the Primes.  They’re just extras in our play.”

	“Now you’re catching on,” Slicce said smugly, as she felt Lumira’s mind part and welcome her in.


	Linus narrowed his eyes as he recognized a clearing.  “I’ve been here,” he murmured.  “This place… the flock stayed here once, to escape a plague.”

	“So they did,” deKestral said.  “The turf is still torn up by hundreds of dancing hooves.”  She sped up.  “The satyresses are accelerating, Linus.  We must make haste.”


	Lumira panted as she followed Slicce in a jog.  “Why are we speeding up?” she asked.

	“Oh, just making sure none of those Primes are tailing you,” Slicce said.  In truth, she suspected they were, but she needed to tell the Dance Lord to give him time to prepare.

	“Oh, er… I see,” Lumira said.

	Slicce’s eyes narrowed as she ran and listened to the tone of Lumira’s voice.  “Lumira… is there something you need to tell me?” she asked curtly.

	Lumira flinched.  “Well… I noticed that my magic bond to Viri is weakening, very quickly,” she said.  “I fear something may be wrong.  Maybe I shouldn’t stay long.”

	“Bah!  The tempt is a flock of its own, Lumira darling, and the Dance Lord can free you from Greenwater’s shackles,” Slicce said.  “That can’t be all.”

	“The Paladin thinks you may have had something to do with the attack on Viri last night,” Lumira confessed.

	“I wasn’t even there!” Slicce said, hiding her anger.  “But fear not, we approach the tempt.”

	Lumira slowed as Slicce eased up the pace, and she saw a shadow detach itself from a tree.  “Ah, sister, you return,” a voice Lumira recognized said.  She perked up she saw the satyr in question.

	“Lightsong, my friend, good to see you,” Lumira said happily.  She gave him an appreciative look.  He was all muscle and groomed fur, with a great swinging anchor chain of a penis and sharp horns.  “Oh, but time has been kind to you,” she said appreciatively, unable as she was to see his fangs in the shadows in which he stood.  “Perhaps a dance, later?”

	He chuckled and crossed his arms over his barrel chest.  “Oh, bet on it, my lass, but first you must meet the Dance Lord again,” he said.  “Come!”


	Linus urged Noble on.  deKestral’s speed was insane.  She was moving twelve feet per second, easily, and making no noise at all.  Was this the power of a true monk of the Seldarine Gods?  It was breathtaking.

	“Hurry,” she urged.  “I sense the walls of the Abyss peeling open.”  She gripped the wooden staff she had clipped over her back at the shoulder and hip.  “It seems your suspicion was accurate.”


	Lumira rounded a corner and threw up her arms.  “Brothers, sisters!  It is good to see you!”

	Four more satyrs were waiting there, dragging a great cow carcass over the ground.  They raised hands and cheered to see their long-lost friend, but they did not stop with their task.  Lumira was all the way past them and on towards the next cluster of trees when she suddenly turned back.  Both of the females were pregnant.

	“Goodness, but the loins of the Dance Lord are busy, aren’t they,” she remarked to Slicce.

	“Hmm?  Oh, no, no, those lasses are carrying the seeds of others,” Slicce remarked.  “I mean, as far as we know.  Who can tell?  But we do need to expand our numbers, you know.”  She came to a halt where a great canvas had been strung between two tall maples.  “And here we are!”

	Lumira took a deep breath.  “Well, let us see,” she said, and pushed the canvas aside.