Part 16: Kazg Wheels, Kazg Deals

Kazg Wheels, Kazg Deals




The Shaper statues have all been cut off just below the hips, leaving you taller than the great statues for just this once. It's interesting that the serviles didn't simply topple the statues and let them shatter. No; the serviles worked to destroy them, hacking the statues apart where they stand. That kind of effort takes great viciousness.

You hope that whoever did this is long dead and gone, so that they don't try to repeat it on a living Shaper... like you.



You follow the crumbling road eastward and notice one of your people's obelisks. Unfortunately, it has been thoroughly defaced.










The dismal sight of these plains fills you with sorrow. The serviles of Kazg are fighting a losing battle despite their ingenuity and hard work. The irrigation trenches will not improve the contaminated soil's arability. Bringing in viable soil will only cause it to become contaminated, too -- the proof is in the withering, yellowing crops.

The guards clutch their swords as you pass, muttering to themselves about defending their free and crushing the Shapers. You don't tell them that it won't be as simple as breaking down ancient statuary. You just keep your distance.

The fields along the northern shore are peppered with unclaimed Shaper ruins which have fallen into such a desperate state of disrepair that you cannot guess what they might have once been.



As you follow the irrigation canals back down to the road, an armed servile in dark robes rushes toward you. Only the fact that he comes alone and that the other servile guards aren't joining him keeps you from ordering your creations to shoot him down before he reaches you.

You try to project an aura of confidence about engaging this Taker, but you would honestly feel more secure about killing him rather than risking him making the first move. Fortunately, he pulls up short, maintaining a respectful distance from the fyoras.

You meet one of the guards of the north gate of Kazg. He looks like an experienced warrior, and his face has the cold, calm expression you've seen many times on the more experienced Guardians.

He nods to you, clearly unimpressed, and begins to speak in a businesslike manner. "Shaper, I have been sent to greet you when you approach. You are at the outskirts of Kazg. Fair warning. Your safety here is not guaranteed."

This character's name is Amena, though he never introduces himself. It's not terribly important.

"Will I be attacked if I enter Kazg?" You're under the impression that the Takers want to parley with you -- otherwise, they wouldn't have had Nabb approach you about slaying Ellhrah in return for power.

"Yes. The guards there are eager to meet you in battle. I doubt I could control them, if they got a chance to actually fight and slay a Shaper," the guard says. His tone and the way he doesn't bother to look directly at you, but rather at his blade, show that he won't regret your death one bit.

"I am a Shaper. How can you threaten me?" You look at your creations, whose battle experience is obvious from simply looking at them. Even if the Takers aren't in awe of their creators, they should be more cautious.

"You must know little about the Takers, to ask such a foolish question. We are independent from you, and we will stay so. Or die."

"Why do they hate me?" Even if they blame the Shapers for their current circumstances, you are hardly to blame. Word must have arrived by now that you merely washed up on this island. You didn't arrive with the intention of crushing the Takers' pointless rebellion. Moreover, you haven't even harmed their outsider allies. You wouldn't have interfered at all if not for the possibility of a ship at the eastern end of the island.

"I do not have the time to recite the whole list of crimes your people have committed against ours. All my warriors want is a chance for fair justice," he snaps.

What's fair about trying to murder you even though you're blameless for what took place here two hundred years or more ago? You don't voice your protest. Whining won't change this servile's mind, and it's contemptible besides. "I wish to enter Kazg and speak with your leaders. How is this possible?"

"I would need to escort you into town myself. But first, I need to believe that it is worth it. I do not want one of your kind in my home, no matter what Gnorrel says." He glances at you with a surly curl to his lips.

"Gnorrel? Who is that?" You believe this is the first that you've heard that name.

"Gnorrel is our leader. She rules the Takers. She says that there is a certain Shaper she wishes to see, but she said nothing about how to identify him or her. I don't think any Shapers can be trusted, so I will not help you pass."

You roll your eyes at this petty bit of gamesmanship. "Shouldn't you obey your orders?"

"I am not a servant. You Shapers want us all to be servants, to you or to each other. No. I am here and she is not. I will not help you pass. It is wise to leave. If you do not, you will be slain," he says. His insistence on this point doesn't exactly fill you with a sightseer's glee.

"If you want me dead, don't you think the best way to bring that about would be to take me to your leader? I won't die out here."

He stops, surprised. This clearly hadn't occurred to him. "That is true. I do not think that I can kill you. Gnorrel, however, definitely could. Follow me, Shaper. I will lead you to the gate. Watch yourself, though. The slightest theft, the slightest crime, and we will swarm you. You are not the master here."

He's right; you're not the master of these Takers, but you're a better master of yourself than this servile is of himself. His barely contained contempt has become murderous anticipation.



You follow him south toward what must be the walls of Kazg. Instead of staying by him to meet an almost certain ambush, though, you veer off toward the dilapidated huts just outside the walls.

This must be where the farmers live. A few serviles are here, resting through the worst heat of the day. Most of them have very little to say to you, and though they don't outright bar you from their homes, they offer no hospitality.

One servile watches you so closely and openly that he's practically inviting you to make the first move. You've met a Kazgian. He has the mad, unstable look in his eyes you have come to expect. A fanatic's eyes.

He looks up at you. He looks like he could kill you in a moment, if the whim struck him. Instead, he speaks. "A Shaper. Shaper. Yes. Gnorrel said your kind would come. Now you talk at me. Good. I am Agat. I am an Agent."

"You call yourself an Agent? Only a Shaper can be an Agent," you say, trying and failing to imagine a servile using an Agent's magic. The effort makes your skin crawl.

"I Agent like Shaper Agent are Agent. Gnorrel finds difficult place where bad things happen. She talks to me and I go and I solve problem." Agat sounds reasonable enough, but you dislike the look in his eyes. You already know that the Takers' madness will cause you no end of trouble in their lands.

"What sort of problems are you trying to solve?" you ask. Maybe it's something you can help with, something that will allow you to extend a bough of peace to the Takers.

"Gnorrel think there is spy up here. Not spy like you, blundering out in open, but secret spy. I talk to all farmer and visitor, but I find no spy." You resent the description; you're neither a blunderer nor a spy! Agat looks up at you and smiles. "You Shaper. Smart. Know way of serviles. If you know of spy and tell me, we deal with you. We not hate all Shapers. Shapers who ally with us welcome."

"Tell me about Gnorrel." Agat is the second to mention the Takers' leader by name. She must be a formidable servile to persist in this... paper rebellion even after a Shaper has arrived on the island.

"She leader of Takers. She wise. One day, she lead us up and against you. Once she tell us who to fight, we win freedom."

Unlikely if there's only one boat on the island and no one knows how to build more. You imagine that outsider ship sailing into a Shaper port and being scuttled at the docks by fyoras. Futile. Pointless. "Why don't you hate all Shapers?"

"Some do. Foolish ones do. Not Gnorrel. Not me. We know that Shaper who aid our cause is as much ally as servile who do so. More so, for Shaper has much more to lose. Help us, and we will help you more. Want know more? Talk to Gnorrel," Agat says. He uses the servile argot like a weapon.

But there's no way you will be fooled into underestimating him based on that. You thank him and move on without making a commitment to look for his spy either way. Serviles spying on each other is now much less of a joke than when you first heard of it in Vakkiri. You're no longer certain of how deeply you want to be involved in their politics. Darian was wrong; wisdom is keeping your distance.



Someone calls out at you with a thin voice. You meet one of Kazg's farmers in the hut by Agat's. This servile looks weak and weary, and is covered with thick layers of the dust that pervades this area.

She looks up at you with a face without emotion. "The Shaper. I Srel. Srel. Will you talk to me?"

"Is it difficult to farm here?" you ask quietly, in deference to her clear exhaustion.

"You must know. You kind leave us this to live. You must know how bad it is. How hard. You give us this bad place and we must live," Srel says. Her bitterness is warranted. These plains are clearly blighted, though you don't know how or why. It's only natural for those left behind to blame your people. Even you suspect this was caused by the Shapers.

"What do you want to talk to me about?"

"'I live hard life here. Life too long. Must tell you and ask question. You listen?"

You consider telling her that you don't have time right now. Whatever she has to tell you is clearly important to her, but will only be unpleasant for you. "All right. What do you want to say?"


"I live here twenty years. Maybe twenty. Know no more. I live with my bonded. We grow food. We raise child. Always hungry. Always struggling to bring dirt and grow in it. Somehow, we live." Srel pauses, waiting for you to say something.

"Yes?" you prompt. You want it to be over with. You can already see where this tale ends. You already heard the same story from Natley. There's nothing you can do for either servile. Even Shapers can't bring back the dead.

"Then my bonded dies. A rogue kills him. Then my child died. Sickness. If Shaper here, there are no rogue. If Shaper here, no sickness. It cured like that." She snaps her fingers. "Why? Why Shaper do this to us? Why this wrong thing? Why?"

There's no comfort you can give her. The empty words you spoke to Natley won't serve here. Srel won't accept being told that her sacrifices are her creators' just due. And what if Clois was right and the Shapers aren't truly the serviles' creators, anyway? Then you would compound lies to someone you don't need to lie to.

"I don't know," you admit. "It was wrong. It was an injustice. And my people should do something to make it better." But the Shaper way of correcting such wide-ranging mistakes is to release every last diseased and rogue creation from the torments of living. Srel and the Takers don't want to see the island cleansed by fire.

She looks down at the ground, suddenly embarrassed. "You say that, Shaper. You do not feel it. I do not think you feel it. Yet, I will think and hope and try to believe." She turns away quietly.

You think that you can hear her quietly sobbing as you depart.

If we give her the Shaper response instead of the conciliatory one, she will become hostile and we'll be forced to kill her.



The half-dozen or more guards by the northern gate into Kazg don't bother to hide their loathing of you. "Defend Kazg!" they cry. "Fight for the Takers! End Shaper rule!" They won't talk to you. It's a wonder that those unsheathed swords don't try to bury themselves in you.

You leave your escort waiting on the path and head back towards the greenish river, following the dried-up mounds of ornk bones.



Among the skeletal trees you find a tiny campsite. Everything in it is covered in dust. There is a young, female servile camped out here. She looks very small and nervous. Like everything else in this barren place, she is covered with dust.

She bows when you approach. "A Shaper," she mutters to herself, then greets you, "Welcome. Welcome, Shaper. I am Hew." It's the friendliest anyone's been to you on these plains.

"What are you doing out here?" you ask. "Isn't it dangerous to live out here like this?"

"I like a peaceful life," she says. "I farm my tiny plot. I try to survive in this harsh place." Hew doesn't use the servile argot, at least not with you. "The Takers have made this area secure. The rogues do not trouble them anymore. They are starting to be able to grow crops. Despite the harshness, this is one of the safest places on Sucia Island now.

"Thanks to the Takers," she hastens to add.

"Are you a Taker?" you ask. She is almost certainly not if she refers to the Takers as "they."

"Why... why of course." She seems to have difficulty saying it. "I am opposing the Shapers and all they have done to us." Hew is a laughably poor pick for a spy.

"You seem to have your doubts."

"No. No I don't. Never mind. No doubts. I am a Taker, secure in the wisdom of Gnorrel."

No doubt Agat would find this all very interesting. "Are you lying? To a Shaper? One of your creators? How can you do that?"

Hew looks very upset. She looks around, making sure nobody is listening. "No, Shaper. You are correct. I am an Obeyer. I am spying. I must obey a Shaper, no matter what it costs me, if it can possibly help us fight the evil of the Takers."

"What have you learned?" you ask. You decide that, barring the need to get closer to the Takers, you won't turn Hew in. This Obeyer is the only one here who hasn't delivered any threats, veiled or otherwise.

"I know that the Takers are allied with the humans. The outsiders. The invaders. I don't know why. I know, though, that it has something to do with control. Control of the Geneforge," she whispers.

"What is the Geneforge?" The damned thing is mentioned more and more frequently now. Soon, you suspect rumors of it will reach even the west side of the island. Someone will try to bargain with you about it... You must know more.

"I do not know. But, with time, I will find out." You don't doubt Hew's determination, but you don't believe that a farmer with one puny plot and not even a tent to her name will learn much about the Geneforge's purpose.

"What do the Takers want with me, then?"

"There are two Shapers on Sucia Island," Hew says. You try not to let your eyes bulge at that. "Gnorrel has been trying to get a Shaper to be brought to her. But there is another who she is supposed to be trying to kill. That is what the outsider humans want. It seems you are the Shaper they want, not the Shaper they want to kill. Not all of the Takers are so sure."

At first you think that the other Shaper must be Trajkov, the outsider, but reason intervenes over denial -- the serviles recognize outsider humans when they see them. There's no reason for you to doubt that this other Shaper, if they exist, is in fact a Shaper. These serviles might try to lie to you about a second Shaper, but they won't mistake an outsider for one... Is this some new bargaining chip? Are they trying to fool you into doing something? You can't imagine what.

But if there is another Shaper here, a full Shaper, you will have to submit yourself to that person's authority. Isn't that the answer to your unspoken prayers? A full Shaper surely must take responsibility for what's happening here and decide what to do. They'll tell you how to proceed. You won't have to struggle with any more temptations. But...

"Is there any other information you can give me?" you ask.

Hew looks even more uncomfortable. She shifts from side to side, looking for an escape from the position you've put her in. "I am sorry, Shaper, but I am not sure you follow the true will of the Shapers. If you were allied with the Obeyers, though, it would be different."

You shake your head. "It's unwise of you to hold back now, but I'll accept it. We'll speak again someday."





Finally, you follow the guard into the city proper. He sneers at you before leading you through the gateway.





Despite its size, the walls and gatehouses are not as well-designed for defense as Pentil. Instead, it's as though this place was designed to intimidate. Everything about it is austere and huge. The Takers have kept the buildings in good shape, though, as they did outside, all of the statuary appears to have been defaced.

You cautiously turn to one of the gate guards. This guard looks very thin and hungry, and his weapon is old and rusty. When you approach him, he looks up at you with fear and loathing. Like most Takers, he hates you.

"Shaper," he says, "I told to let you be, but I watch you. You do wrong, and we all make you pay." He then returns to his watch.

"Very well," you murmur. You'll be extra cautious to not let any Takers see you do anything they might even remotely disapprove of.



Just like in Pentil and Vakkiri, the serviles here have some fields within the fortress to supply fresh vegetables and rations in case of emergency. These fields aren't productive to let the Takers hold out for very long, though.

Several farmers work here, though all but one spit on the ground and turn away from you. The stand-out servile walks around, trowel in hand, looking at the crops that are growing here. It looks like the Takers have torn up most of the flagstones to make room for plants. Maybe the dirt in here is better.

"Hello, Shaper. I am Poola. I am a humble farmer." She is nowhere near as hostile as most of the serviles here.

"Why are you growing things inside this fort?" you ask. The fields here are more extensive than they are inside the other villages.

"The dirt around Kazg has died. We bring in dirt of our own, living dirt. We bring most in here, where it can be protected and watched," Poola says. Interesting. That almost sounds like the Takers are trying their own experiments.

"What can you tell me about Kazg?"

"Kazg is a large place, full of many twists and turns and interesting things. There are many Takers here, who have many beliefs." She seems to be trying to delicately hint at something, or lead you to some conclusion, but you can't guess what that might be.

"What do you think of the Takers?" You don't expect her to say anything contrary, at least not openly; after all, the authorities know there's a spy here, and Poola could easily be accused of disloyalty. You doubt an ordinary farmer could easily leave this place, not with all the rogues between here and the other villages, and not with the Takers being what they are.

"I think they want a war with Shapers. A great bloody war. I think they might do good, but there are influences against it. I think Shaper should beware. I think, in some ways, Takers are wise, but some go too, too far." Poola is more critical than you expected, and much more insightful.

"Such as?" you prompt her.

"If you go out through east gate and go north, you find small sect of Takers who have passion for death of Shapers beyond anything I imagine. If you go near them, they just kill you. They hate Gnorrel for thinking we can deal with some Shapers. Their hate goes to madness."

"Thanks for the warning... Are there any particular twists and turns in Kazg which might interest me?" You're both venturing quite a bit in a conversation going down in the middle of the fort, but the other serviles are doing their best to keep their distance, and Poola has a soft voice which probably doesn't carry too far.

At least, you hope it doesn't, for her sake.

"Well, there is tower in southwest corner of fort. It is guarded, but careful ones can slip past patrol. It is chambers of Learned Toivo, and I know he has valuable notes back there," Poola murmurs.

That's far more than you expected a Taker to tell you. "Why are you helping me?"

"I only want freedom. I not know how I want it, but I know we are not going right way. Now I must return to my work." She walks away, trowel in hand.

On your way south, you accost a servile who isn't fast enough to evade you. He's a small, weary example of his kind. He must be a farmer. He's covered with dirt, and he's carrying a sack of seed and some heavy tools. "What do you want, Shaper?" he says, while staring at the ground.

"Who is in charge here?"

He points at the huge building at the west end of town. "Gnorrel is there. She is leader, our leader, leader of Takers. She tell you." You're not going to get much out of this farmer.

"How is your farming going?" you try.

"Farming bad," he says, and just when you think he'll stop with that, he erupts. "Farming always bad! We live here as long as we remember, in Kazg, in this dusty, dirty place, where the land dies little more each year, getting more hungry, getting more weak." As he speaks, he stares at the ground. "You Shapers leave us like this, and now you return, and want us to obey. We not ask for freedom, like weak Awakened. We take our freedom. We take it from you." He has nothing else to say to the likes of a Shaper.



You find an abandoned Shaping hall. Any traces of the Shaping platform that should've been here are long gone. There's a broken canister -- more the shame, really.



The northeastern quadrant of Kazg is a shambles. Most of it has been abandoned, with rubble all over the ground and, as you peek through a dead doorway, even mines. No one would place mines in a truly useless area... Something is hidden back here.

Unfortunately, these mines have a greenish cast, which means your brown spore baton probably won't have an effect. You're not about to waste the baton on an experiment, either.

You order PurpleXVI past the mines. As expected, a regular creation doesn't trigger them. PurpleXVI scouts for you. It's not quite as helpful as going yourself, but at least you can get a general sense of this section's layout and what might be hidden here from the impressions your roamer sends back.









PurpleXVI frisks back, obviously glad of the special assignment. You pat the roamer's head and treat it to the last strip of dried meat from your rapidly dwindling rations. You need to get past the mines somehow, but triggering them personally isn't an option. Maybe the answer will come to you in time.





Despite the Takers' hatred of your kind, they've maintained the essence pools here. You relax in the waves of soothing power and decide to invest more of your essence into GreatEvilKing and idhrendur. You sense that the challenges of Sucia Island will only become greater from here on out, and you and your creations must be ready to meet them.



The opposite sector is dominated by a large dining hall. Right now, there's only one being in the hall, and she's collecting dirty dishes.

The efforts of preparing food for the many serviles in central Kazg have left this servile bent and tired. Still, she labors on, determined not to shirk her duties.

When she sees you, though, you notice that she picks up a sharp knife. "I Kaxen. This my kitchen. No Shaper welcome here."

"Why do you threaten me?" you ask. You don't raise your hands; as a Shaper, such a move might be interpreted as you preparing a spell rather than as a sign of peace.

"I hate you. I hate your kind. You leave me be, or you pay," Kaxen hisses.

You try to take a more sympathetic approach, since you don't want to provoke a fight. "Is it difficult doing cooking for Kazg?"

"Many hungry mouths. Never enough food. Something no Shaper ever knows anything about. You leave me be," she says.

"Fine, then. I will go." You turn, but not before you catch the glint of her waving a knife at you. But she doesn't come after you, so you calmly make your escape through the nearby alley.



There's a certain smell in the air here that's neither servile cooking nor poisoned earth. While you're quite literally sniffing around, you notice a servile slouching outside of a very wide doorway.

This servile's robes have many pockets, and tools and bits of Shaper artifacts poke out of each one. She looks too distracted by her work to have many opinions on politics, Taker or otherwise.

"I am Kyazo. What do you want?" She doesn't look at you as she speaks. You aren't even sure if she knows you're a Shaper or not.

"What is your job here?" you ask. She doesn't seem as violently opposed to talking to you as the cook Kaxen is, at least.

"I am a tinker. Some of us still pass down old servile tinker knowledge, because it is useful. I help work on growing useful creations, and on making land grow." Kyazo sounds bored beyond reckoning. She chews on a twig as she talks to you without ever glancing your way.

"You grow creations?" It sounds even more outlandish than Learned Jaffee's taming program and Buron's tool breeding attempts, but at this point, you think you're prepared for anything.

"We cannot make them. We not use magic. Shapers breed us to not have magic. But we can grow living things left to use. So I grow mines and spore boxes and other devices. Gnorrel asks, and I provide. She works hard to help serviles, so I help her." Kyazo tinkers with one of the artifacts from her many pockets. She doesn't seem to be paying much attention to you.

"Why is the land here so barren and dusty?" You're not upset at her rudeness, not after having so many blades bared at you. This is positively welcoming by comparison.

"I do not know. It come upon us over years, starting when my grandfather was alive. Land to north barren, the area crawls south. Not know what causes it." Her resignation at the mystery is plain to hear, but she doesn't seem to have surrendered to the inevitable yet. "Have many plans, though, to make land more fertile. Working hard, so we may eat."

"Do have any devices you could sell to me?" you ask. You doubt you can appeal to any lingering loyalty to the Shapers who made all these tools possible, but perhaps coin will motivate her.

"I give no help to one who is not a Taker. I am loyal."

With that, you give up; unless and until you throw in your lot with these rogues, you'll get no meaningful help from most of them. There's no sense in being more sympathetic than you need to be in order to avoid an untimely shanking. It's just a waste of time to try and bring them around. Instead, you must make a broader decision about how you'll relate to this ornery sect.

Gnorrel waits. You decide to finish taking the lay of the land and then meet her.




At least you now know the source of most, if not all of the mines you've come across -- this alarmingly skillful servile has been making them. If only you knew how to meddle with her breeding program... Alas, you don't have the power or knowledge to render the mines harmless or sterile.





This massive hall must have once been where the leadership of this administrative center made announcements and heard disputes. Now it is full of chairs all facing one long, stone table, behind which is a lone servile. She has quite the array of armed guards all ceremoniously standing before the pillars here. The sour smell of Kazg's poisoned earth is less here, but it's replaced by the mildew of years of unskilled maintenance.



There is an old servile standing behind the long table. She looks like she has been alive for many years, all of them hard. When she sees you for the first time, she has to exert a great effort to keep herself under control.

Part of her wants to attack you. She is sorely tempted to just call the guards and have it out here and now. But she has other plans, so she controls her rage and hatred. After a few long moments, she gains enough control to speak.

"Shaper. You have come to us. I am Gnorrel, leader of the Takers. Though I am the sworn enemy of your kind, I am able to deal with you personally without rage. Come and we may speak."

"I want to learn about the Takers," you say. It's only polite to hear her out after she has somehow restrained her little army of fanatics.

"I am glad. I will tell you our story, if you choose to hear it," Gnorrel says.

"All right." You spread your hands a bit before remembering their nervousness about your magic. "Tell me your story." It's what you came for, after all. That, and a boat.

"We serviles have lived in Kazg for many years, after you Shapers left us. It was hard. You have many tunnels and warrens to the north, and creatures came out of them and savaged us. And the land slowly grew worse. We don't know why.

"The plants died, and we were hungry, and we died. But we were loyal. We believed that you created us, and, for that we owed you a debt. But as the years passed, and we suffered more and more, we grew angrier." Gnorrel falls silent. As her audience, she has certain expectations of you. She wants you to be invested in her tale, in the story of the Takers, and perhaps wants to make you identify with them on some level.

"Then what happened?" After all, haven't you also been abandoned on Sucia Island? You were sent alone without escort to the colony, and when you vanish, any search effort will be small and brief.

"Then one of us stepped forward. His name was lost. One day, he went to the middle of the square, mad with hunger and anger, and he raised his fist, and he shouted. He yelled 'The Shapers are wrong! They torment! They bad! We must take our free!"

"What happened to him?"

"Oh, he was killed. We were loyal to your kind then, and the guards struck him down instantly. But the idea was planted. And, as the years past, more and more came to repeat his words. We call ourselves Takers, now, because we will take our freedom from you, however we can. You lost all right to control us when you left us here," she finishes.

These serviles are all rogues. In the end, the Shapers must destroy them all. It's impolitic to say so, though, even if both you and Gnorrel recognize this inevitability. "Well, if you think you should be free, then it's only right. I hope it won't be necessary to fight, though."

"I hope so too. But not all of my people feel that way. If what we are planning works, it will not be necessary to have bloodshed."

That sounds... ominous. You doubt Gnorrel will openly tell you her plans even if you throw your lot in with hers wholeheartedly. She has too much to lose.

"What do you want from me, then?" you ask.

"We want you to ally with us. We have certain plans in motion, but we need a Shaper to work with us. If you do, you will be fighting for justice, for freedom for the creations you have treated so badly. But there is more than that. If you will help us, you will gain power. If you help us, we can make you strong, incredibly strong, stronger than your masters would ever let you be. Help us, and you can take some of the power hidden on this island." She doesn't smile, but you think you detect a hint of triumph in her small, dark eyes.

If they can't appeal to your sense of justice, then, they will try to appeal to your greed. You admit there's something to her words... The Shapers would have never allowed you to gain this much power this quickly, or perhaps even ever at all. They have abandoned the canisters, after all, even though they're a much more convenient way of spreading Shaper knowledge than long term apprenticeships.

But there are good reasons for that, as you're coming to see.

"Why have you not attacked me?" you ask.

"I have let you live and approach me because my allies want your help, and we want your help. We want you to ally with us. We have much we need, and much to offer." She rests her small hands on the tabletop, maybe to steady herself, maybe to help hold her back from lunging across the table for your throat. You can't be sure.

"I am trying to find a boat. Where can I find one?"

"If you were allied with the Takers, I might help you," Gnorrel replies. The slyness grates; of course she won't make it easy for you to return to the Shapers and tell them of what's transpiring here. She probably won't help you even if you join her.

"What do you know about the outsider humans?" Trajkov and the Sholai have been working with this rogue, you know it. Rogue serviles and rogue humans, banding together against the Shapers and seizing that power for themselves... It's terrifying to consider.

"They are called the Sholai. When you are allied with the Takers, there is much I can tell you."

You grit your teeth. "I would like to ally myself with the Takers." If Gnorrel is like Rydell and Ellhrah, you don't doubt that there will be errands and ideological tests ahead before you're accepted as one of them... if the Takers can ever truly accept a Shaper.

"We have heard what you have said to the other serviles. Rumors travel. We know what you think. We believe that you can help serviles to be free. Before we will trust you, though, you must prove yourself with a deed."

You are tired of deeds, very tired. You've cut your way across this island, only for short-sighted, bureaucratic serviles to kick at your heels and tug at your sleeves. "What task do I need to do to earn your trust?" You don't roll your eyes even though you very much wish to.

"To the west, near Vakkiri, you can find a servile named Ellhrah. He has mocked us one too many times. He has spied on us, killed our agent, converted our followers, and worked against us in many ways. We need for him to die. Do this, slay him, and we will take you into our number. Only this task lies between you and the rewards we offer you," Gnorrel says.

You laugh. If there's a little madness in it, it hardly compares to Gnorrel's own. She doesn't flinch. She likely has only the slightest idea of how much Leader Rydell has interfered with her and Vakkiri. Perhaps all those corpses outside the village all the way back in Crag Valley also include Takers. The Obeyers are truly exploiting their position in the middle. The Awakened have precious little power, and certainly not enough to project it all the way into Kazg's territory.

"I'll consider it," you say when the laughter's run its course.

Part Two is posted below.