<html><head><style type="text/css"></style></head><body><div style="font-family:times new roman,new york,times,serif;font-size:12pt"><div><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"><style>  </style>             "Those sins are?" the boy priest prompted, his face taking on a serious mien.  He leaned to one side of the chair, resting one elbow on the arm as he steepled his fingers, resting his chin on his upraised thumbs.  Llyn could imagine how he might have looked in that chair when he listened to the admissions of his acolytes in Allcaran, filling the large frame, elbows resting on both arms, fingers steepled before his previously aged face.  She banished that image with a brief shake of her head, whiskers pulling back as she realized he would never again be the man he once was.<o:p></o:p>             "I killed, father." She nodded slowly, the first words she had ever given him in any of her other confessions the few times she had been able to go before him in his rare visits in the past.  For almost anyone that would not be an unusual sin around Metamor, for slaughter was one of the natures of Metamor.  Few would have cause to say those words in the past few years, though, save those who patrolled her borders, or beyond them as Llyn and her compatriots did.  The boy priest merely nodded, listening closely.<o:p></o:p>             Gathering her breath, she looked up and continued, "I took an innocent into danger, and was unable to protect her from harm." She sighed, frowning.  Jylian had not returned, which very well meant that she had run afoul of Lutins or some other creature and no longer lived.  That the innocent young bat had come to such an untimely end left a cold stone of sorrow in her heart, one more among the many she had found chilling her blood in the past few days.<o:p></o:p>             "How did you do this?" Hough asked quietly, his eyes inquisitive.<o:p></o:p>             "She followed me on patrol, and I did not learn of her presence until we were too far into enemy territory to turn about."  Llyn supplied in as general a description as she could.  The Long Patrol was not open to the Keep in general quite yet, and thus their activities had to be kept as quiet as possible.  She knew that Hough's dictates demanded that he say nothing of her confessions to any other, even his own superiors, but the less information she released the better.<o:p></o:p>             "She went of her own free will?"<o:p></o:p>             Llyn nodded, her whiskers twitching.  Her tail switched from side to side behind the simple, upholstered chair she had deposited herself in, arms resting in her laps for the chair itself lacked any rests.  "Of her own bullheaded stubbornness."  Hough merely nodded briefly.  Llyn looked back down at her slender feet once more, flexing the short, brown claws of her toes briefly before looking back up and meeting the boy priest's alert eyes.<o:p></o:p>             "I practiced magic, father." She managed to choke out at length, her hands clutching together in her lap as she confessed that sinister truth.  Father Hough's eyebrows shot up on his unblemished brow, his eyes growing wide though he did not otherwise move from his pose of attentive alertness.<o:p></o:p>             "You, my daughter?" he queried, the expression on his face one of curious amazement.  "How?"<o:p></o:p>             "I was given an item by someone, a skunk, I met on my patrols.  He said that, when I received his signal, I was to break and release the magic he had placed in it."<o:p></o:p>             "So you did not cast the magic yourself?"<o:p></o:p>             "No, Father, but I…" her voice failed as she looked away, her eyes coming to rest on the array of ceremonial garments hung along the opposite wall.<o:p></o:p>             "You did not yourself cast magic, merely utilized an item of magic?  To what end?"<o:p></o:p>             "To destroy a threat to Metamor." Was all she could supply, still not looking toward the priest.  Her eyes settled upon a woodcut hung on the wall behind his desk detailing some liturgical scene, but she could not see it.  She could only see the vision of the blue flash that escaped the brittle twig when she snapped it, and the brighter flash glaring briefly from beneath those huge towers.<o:p></o:p>             "For the greater good, in other words."<o:p></o:p>             Blinking, she lowered her gaze to the boy seated in the chair on the opposite side of the desk from her.  He was lost in that massive frame of wood and upholstery, but it seemed as much a part of him as his rumpled vestments.  "I guess you might say that, Father." She supplied before trailing off and looking away.  A sullen silence hung in the air between them for the span of a few breaths.<o:p></o:p>             "What other sins have you to reveal, my daughter?" the priest's voice was pitched low, a curious tone within it that brought her gaze back to him once more.  She blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.  "Your fur is streaked, Joy." He supplied, his fingers unsteepling briefly as he raised one index finger and placed the tip of it just below his left eye, trailing it down and away.  Tears.<o:p></o:p>             The fur of her muzzle was still streaked with the tears brought upon by her brief, anguished dialogue with Caroline.  She quickly raised her hands and roughed her cheeks, banishing the dark streaks in a brief moment of violent self-flagellation.  The young priest merely raised his eyebrows and watched, steepling his fingertips once more, resting them against his lips.  "I…" she began, then let out a sigh and slumped back in her chair, tail falling as her whiskers drew back, short ears switching rearward briefly in consternation.  "It is ancient, father, a sin I fear to be greater even than magic."<o:p></o:p>             Father Hough raised an eyebrow, looking suddenly ten years older than the physical appearance of his changed body.  He tapped his steepled fingertips lightly upon his lips as he waited to hear what horror she had to confess to him.<o:p></o:p>             "Do you know what happened to the otter Caroline Hardy, father?" the mink asked at length, looking up briefly.<o:p></o:p>             Hough nodded slowly, "I officiated Craig's funeral.  I know why they are raiding the old keep north of the dikes, though I do not exactly approve."<o:p></o:p>             Llyn shrugged one shoulder and nodded, "What happened to her… happened to me." She forced that out, gritting her short, sharp teeth as she bit off the words, her furred lips peeled back in distaste.  Hough fell back in his chair, his mouth falling open for a moment in true childish shock, fingers splaying as his eyes went wide.  Llyn sighed, frowning, and looked down at her hands once more.<o:p></o:p>             "Four years ago, not long after I joined the close patrol, I was working the southern borders, between Metamor and the northern midland baronies." She ground her molars, the confession bringing that entire dark affair boiling up from her memories like fetid grease from a cook's cesspit.  "A human claiming the title of Side Show Moe and his men trapped me, threw me in a cage." She brought her head back up, looking toward the young priest but only seeing the stark black bars of her cage, the leering faces beyond as they carted her beyond the influence of Metamor's curse.<o:p></o:p> She raised her hands, clutching at either side of her angular animalistic head, digging her claws deep into her fur to rake across the back of her jaw line, eyes brimming with anguished tears as she felt herself reliving the horrors of those days.  "They raped me, Father." She cried, tears streaming freely now, voice ending in a choked howl.  "For a fortnight, I was theirs."  She closed her eyes, raking her face with her fingers, the sharp pain of her claws helping to push back the horrific memories.  She did not see the sudden shudder that raced through the priest as his own memories came bubbling violently to the surface.  His own capture, torture, and abuse at the hands of the late lord of Lorland.  Llyn could feel the boy priest's hands upon her arms as he responded to her growing alarm; she could hear his consoling alto voice in her ears.<o:p></o:p>             But she was lost in her memories, that touch the touch of her captors as they dragged her from her cage, the jeering jibes of the burly mercenaries under the trapper's command ringing in her ears.  She rocked in the chair, her eyes clamped tightly shut, thrashing out against the hands that contained her, hissing at the voices.<o:p></o:p>             Only a sudden, rattling strike across her jaw brought her eyes open with a start, her chair briefly leaning to one side before she instinctively balanced herself again.  She blinked, choking off a brief cry and sucked in a gasp of air.  The face that swam into focus before her was not the mustachioed visage of Moe, but the concerned image of a concerned boy.  He was holding one of her wrists, the other hand held low by his hip.  She had to blink again as she saw a strop held securely in that small hand, his body shaking as he regarded her.<o:p></o:p>             Blinking away her tears, she flexed her hands spasmodically, the sharp bite of her claws ceasing as she rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms.  "I am sorry, father." She quavered, choking back the last of her sobs, suddenly finding herself utterly exhausted.  The boy sighed, relaxing as he settled back upon his heels, releasing her wrist.  He looked down at his other hand, his face drawn into a distasteful moue as he cast aside the leather strop.<o:p></o:p>             "All is well, my child, all is well." He reassured her, stroking the soft, short fur of her shoulder consolingly, "I must apologize as well, for I struck you."<o:p></o:p>             Joy could not help but giggle, choking a bit as she wiped at the tears soaking into the fur of her cheeks once more.  "You stropped me." She claimed, her voice giddy with unrestrained emotion.  <o:p></o:p>             Hough grimaced, and nodded.  "I could not bring you around with a slap, Joy, I am not quite that strong anymore.  You were doing harm to yourself."<o:p></o:p>             "I know, I know, and I forgive you father." She reached out and pulled him into a hug, a startled squeak escaping the smaller priest.  "I hid that entire event, I lied and avoided question about it." She admitted breathlessly as she released him, "Eventually folks ceased asking about my two week absence, and I buried it as deeply as I could."<o:p></o:p>             "Until now?"<o:p></o:p>             "Until I saw what they had done to Caroline." She nodded, "It brought the memories back, I knew I could not keep them silent forever."<o:p></o:p>             "Does speaking of them help?" Hough asked, pulling himself up onto the front edge of the desk, resting his hands upon his knees as his feet dangled before the heavy desk.  The mink nodded, rubbing one of her eyes with the second knuckle of one finger.  "In not speaking of it before you did commit a sin, my daughter, but an understandable one.  In using magic in the aid of Metamor I can see no sin.  In taking another into danger, of their own stubborn will or not, as an innocent there was a sin committed.  In slaying the enemies of what we hold dear and good in the defense of your own life there is little sin, but no true evil intent." The boy priest rubbed his chin briefly with one hand, contemplating the molding around the ceiling of the small room.<o:p></o:p>             "In penance for your secret I ask that you conduct a prayer at each station of the cross, and for the rest…" he paused, pondering, then smiled,  "I ask that you select one of the statues within the chapel, then clean and polish it."  He giggled, the infectious sound carrying over to the mink, who merely nodded and giggled back, still giddy from the sudden release of a darkness that had weighed heavily upon her soul for many years.  "You can come by tonight after Vespers to conduct your absolution." He hopped down from the desk, walking to the door, "Most will be gone by then, and I would be more than willing to listen to your secrets.  I would like you to contemplate what you have so long hidden from everyone, and yourself, and tell me of your observances when you return this evening." He opened the door and preceded her into the chapel behind the altar, which Llyn suddenly noted was far shorter behind that in front, allowing for the shorter stature of the priest.  Truly, Kyia had provided well for him.  "Yet for now I fear I must prepare for the Prime services."<o:p></o:p>             The mink nodded as she roughed away the last of the streaks left by her tears, giving Hough a thankful hug, then bowing before him.  Clasping his hand, he raised it to her lips in a brief supplication.  Father Hough smiled at the hug, then giggled with boyish glee at the supplication, ruffling the fur between the mink's ears with his other hand, shooing her on her way.<o:p></o:p>             Walking the length of the chapel on feet lightened with the unburdening of her soul, Llyn smiled as she gathered up her weapon from the rack within the vestibule.  Strapping it on, she left the chapel as she fastened the buckle of her sword belt.  Placing her hand upon the hilt she proceeded down the long passageway just as the first solemn tones of the Prime services pealed from the huge bells within the new bell tower ensconced in the shadows of Channing's tower.<o:p></o:p>             Suddenly she came to a sharp halt, her entire body swaying as a sudden fierce desire raced through her, setting her fur on end, causing her to clutch the pommel of her sword with an iron grip.  Spinning about, her face set in a rictus snarl, she almost took a step back toward the chapel, the sudden nearly overwhelming need that claimed her urging her forward.  She did not take that step though; she found she could not.  A sudden panic had arisen within her along with that burning desire, subsuming it in terror and causing her to fall limply against one of the cold granite balustrades of the arcade through which she was walking.  Sucking in a steadying breath, she shook her head in confusion and continued on her way, her steps once more subdued.<o:p></o:p>             What she could not understand, though, was why she suddenly had that sudden desire to slay Father Hough.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p>   </div> </div> !DSPAM:4c3956fb168061804284693! </body></html>