Summer had gracefully given way to cooler months while Spike apprenticed at Paven’s dyeshop. Then one day Spike had woken to a world covered with a thick frost. Ever since, the temperature had done nothing but drop. He was just waiting for the first snow to fall—and not looking forward to walking through it. He would have to see if arrangements couldn’t be made for the use of an ifnan. Unlike his dalhari coworkers, he couldn’t just fly in to work.

When he finally reached his quarters, he was pleasantly surprised to find Fain and Vaishi waiting for him. The young guard grinned at his obviously frozen features.

“Spike! We were wondering if you’d like to join us at the bardic guild tonight.” Vaishi helped Spike open the door, pushing the human toward the fireplace. While Spike removed his cloak, Vaishi lit the fire.

“There are some advanced students giving their mastery presentations, if you’re interested,” Fain added. Spike settled down next to the fire, warming his hands.

“What instrument?” Fain and Vaishi had been telling him about the mastery presentations all bardic students gave at the end of their apprenticeships.

Vaishi thought for a moment. “I think tonight is liow. You play that, don’t you, Spike?”

Spike nodded toward the corner. Gaha had presented him with a liow a month ago; when she found out he could play. He had yet to find a way to properly thank the dalhari he still thought of as the ‘purple elder.’

“So, will you join us?” Fain pressed, his youthful exuberance showing.

Spike considered his schedule. Most of his work tomorrow would be matching new dyes to older ones, so he would have time to sleep in if need be. “Sure. I need to eat, though.”

Fain shook his head. “There will be food there. We should leave soon. I don’t want to be stuck in the hallway.”

Looking wistfully at the warm fire, Spike pulled on his cloak. He was grateful that his day had not actually included working with dyes. Otherwise, he would have had to bathe and change clothes before leaving. Still, he hadn’t really been able to get warm. Vaishi and Fain were in a hurry, and they probably forgot that Spike adjusted to temperatures less quickly than they did.

Fortunately, they left the house through a side exit that placed them quite close to the guild. A crowd had already gathered near the guild, and Vaishi sighed. “We’re too late.”

Spike smiled. “Follow me.” The two dalhari looked at each other doubtfully, but complied. Spike moved his way to the door and spoke softly to the bardic apprentices keeping charge of the entrance. After a moment, the three companions were ushered inside.

Fain looked at Spike in amazement. “How did you do that?”

The human grinned widely. “I’m an apprentice, remember?” Realization struck the dalhari. Mastery presentations were special occasions for apprentices, and guilds tended to make special space for the apprentices of other guilds at their presentations. Apprenticeships were hard, grueling work, and regardless of guild, apprentices felt a bond of brotherhood. Neither Vaishi nor Fain had apprenticed in a trade guild, so they didn’t think of it.

“We should take you everywhere,” Vaishi said, shaking his head. Spike laughed at the dalhari as they found seats in front of a pillar and arranged themselves to wait for the presentations.

Spike was actually quite excited. Although he had heard the liow played, and played rather well himself, he had yet to hear any bardic work. There had been several bards in the house, but he had never made the time to go listen to them.

After a few minutes, Vaishi jumped up and went off in search of food. Fain and Spike passed the time discussing language and vocabulary. Spike was nearly to the point where Fain’s lessons would do him no more good, so he was trying to decide if he wanted to learn any others. Fain had practically insisted he learn to write the human language to accompany the verbal version he already knew. Spike, though, wanted to learn how to speak another language as well—perhaps pakra. Fain had also suggested he learn another dialect of dalhari—there were slight regional variations in language, although Spike’s present knowledge would suffice in any dalhari region.

Vaishi returned with dried fruit and three huge mugs of poel, the ubiquitous alcoholic beverage of La’iv and most of the rest of the world. Spike sipped it gingerly. He liked it well enough, although it was a bit sweet. Spike simply remembered all too well visiting the Aiskian guards, and the hangover he’d had the next day.

About an hour later, the first student stepped forward. The crowd silenced as a haunting lamentation soared to the vaulted ceiling. Spike closed his eyes, leaned back on the pillar, and let the words soak into his soul. The song was about being immersed in rushing waters, feeling your soul pulled to the far-away sea. He could almost feel himself dissolving in the water, as the singer wished to do--Lose the self, seek oblivion. It wasn’t until Vaishi nudged him in the shoulder that he was brought out of his reverie.

“Looks like Spike should have joined the priesthood,” Fain commented. At Spike’s look of surprise, he explained. “Not many dalhari, even older ones, can fall into such deep meditation like that in a crowded room. It takes a considerable amount of strength.”

The conversation was interrupted by the next presentation. This one was a chronicle of some long-ago war to the south, where many dalhari lost their lives fending off a mad horde of t’kth-vaali. Spike followed the story closely. It was far more entertaining than the drier history books, and only slightly embellished.

The rest of the night passed quickly, with far more chronicles being sung than any other type of song. Fain and Vaishi walked Spike partway home, before branching off to another hallway toward Fain’s quarters. Spike sank into bed gratefully and fell asleep almost immediately.

•••

The rest of winter flew by for Spike, much as the rest of the year had. Paven finally let up a little on the workload, so he actually got to see the sun occasionally. The master dyemaker was still a taskmaster, however, so Spike never got a lot of free time.

Today, however, was a free day for Spike. Apprentices got one day off a week, to do with as they wished. Spring had just begun to thaw the freehold, so Spike decided to take a walk. He’d seen a lot of the city, but not all of it by any means—but today’s trek was not simply wandering.

He wanted to find the humans. Del had said that there were humans living in La’iv, in an area called the Agraka. Several other dalhari had later confirmed that fact. However, in the year he’d been here, he had yet to meet one. Most of that was due, by his own admission, to his avoidance of them. He wasn’t sure what they would see in him—a human wearing a dalhari mark. Most dalhari thought he was bonded, and one had even boldly wondered why his mate hadn’t changed him into a dalhari. Spike was very much afraid he’d get questions he didn’t want to answer from the humans.

Following some vague directions he’d gotten from a house guard, he headed toward the area of town humans lived in. They stayed mostly to the Agraka across from the green.

He found the humans’ residences about an hour later. They were far smaller than the buildings he was used to—much more like orth homes. It wasn’t surprising, really. Other parts of the Agraka housed orth, and they had probably helped construct these buildings as well.

People milled around busily. At first, he thought that there were many more humans than his dalhari friends had said. Then he realized that it looked that way because all of the humans were walking. In the parts of La’iv he frequented, he was one of the few walkers. Most dalhari flew if they weren’t carrying very much.

He wandered through the streets, looking in shops here and there. This was probably where the guild and the house found meat to feed him. He’d passed several butchers. Spike figured he’d been around dalhari too long, since the sight and smell of all that fresh meat was a bit nauseating.

Spike was studying some human clothing at a tailor’s shop when he noticed a human staring at him. “What?”

The human gestured toward his face. “Disiaron house, right?” Spike nodded.

“Where are you from?” It was obvious from his lingering British accent, now overlaid by a dalhari one, that he was a foreigner.

How to answer that question. “Um…not here.”

“Funny. Where?” The human was not going to let him just brush off the question.

“Another dimension. Got sent here by accident.” The human’s jaw dropped.

“Oh.” Spike smirked. That certainly had an effect.

After a moment, the human recovered. “So why do you have a Disiaron mark?”

“A dalhari saved me from a t’kth-vaal. We…became friends.” Spike didn’t want to go into detail.

The tone of his voice convinced the human to drop the subject. Spike quickly exited the shop. Del had told him that there was the occasional crossing over—humans joining dalhari houses and vice versa. Maybe such things weren’t as common, or as well-accepted, as she had led him to believe.

Spike got a few more stares as he looked around, but he tried to ignore them. The humans weren’t quite as friendly as the dalhari. Many of them seemed to avoid him. It made him feel funny. He’d have to ask someone about it later.

Having lived with the dalhari, Spike was unaccustomed to seeing children and elderly people in such numbers. Children ran through the streets, ducking between their parents as they played. It unnerved Spike somewhat to see them.

Slightly disappointed, Spike headed back to the house. He’d hoped that the humans would be more, well, friendly. He hadn’t expected a hero’s welcome, but they treated him like an oddity. Perhaps Fain could answer those questions.

Spike was still searching for Fain when he ran into Gaha. She greeted him warmly, smiling at him. “Where are you going, Spike?”

“I was looking for Fain. I went over to the Agraka today,” Spike replied. “And I have some questions about it.”

“Oh?” She nodded encouragingly at him. “Fain isn’t here, I’m afraid. However, I may be able to answer your questions.”

Spike followed the elder into a common room and settled next to a fire. “The humans acted strangely toward me,” Spike said suddenly, wanting to get straight to the point.

Gaha frowned. “How so?”

“They stared at the mark, and pretty much demanded to know why I was involved with dalhari. And when I told them I wasn’t a human from here they really looked at me strangely.” Spike leaned back, waiting for Gaha to answer him.

She scowled more deeply. “I should have expected that reaction.”

“Del told me that humans and dalhari got along fine—and that they joined each others houses. Why did they act like that, then?”

“Del wasn’t lying—there is generally a very good rapport between dalhari and humans. But humans are also wary of other species. You see, they feel threatened from all sides. Four species see them as animals—for food or sacrifice. Three species can change them from humans into something else. Humans are most comfortable around orth—but some of them trade in flesh.” Gaha rested for a moment.

Continuing, she said, “And lately, humans have been attacked more than in the recent past. I would doubt you could find a human in La’iv, other than you, who has not lost a close friend or family member recently—to maith or t’kth-vaali.”

“Oh.” Spike was saddened by the information. “So that’s why they were so cold?”

“Well, that and the fact that some humans just don’t like their own species mixing with others. It’s an attitude that’s more prevalent in La’iv than in other holds. In some places, no one really cares.” Gaha stood up, ending the conversation. “I hope that helped some. I must be going, however. Do go back to the Agraka, Spike. They will warm up to you, and you should familiarize yourself with the culture of your own kind.”

Spike stayed next to the warm fire, pondering the humans in La’iv. He’d hoped to make friends, or at least contacts, in the Agraka. Now he had his doubts. Not only had he aligned himself with a dalhari house, he had taken on an apprenticeship in a dalhari guild.

It reminded him of when he had tentatively aligned himself with the Slayer’s band of white hats. The demonic community had first shunned him, and then attacked him. While an attack was unlikely in La’iv, he felt certain that the humans wouldn’t warm to him very much.

Spike supposed he would have to console himself with his dalhari friends and acquaintances. Besides Fain and Vaishi, he had found companions among the few other apprentices at the guild, as well as inside the house itself. He had had an interesting time learning why some people found his friendship with the apprentices odd—until he was reminded that they were of a different clan, one the Saydhe didn’t always get along with.

The human just shrugged and said that clan didn’t really matter. They were his coworkers, and that was that. It didn’t take long for his Saydhe friends to accept it. They weren’t really closed-minded, but they weren’t used to seeing such friendships start quickly.

Thinking of which, Spike remembered that he was supposed to meet the other apprentices for dinner. There were three apprentices at the guild, including Spike. Once they’d gotten to know each other, they’d started getting together frequently. Usually these meetings were at the guild hall, to go over some new idea one of them had, or to help out one who was struggling. Occasionally, though, they just relaxed away from the guild. For tonight’s dinner, Spike was venturing into the Mirh’s part of the house. It was as far as possible from the Saydhe’s area. There was some sort of history between the two clans, but Spike hadn’t been able to find out what it was. He suspected it was as frivolous as any human rivalry, however.

Dinner proved to be very entertaining. Hopfe and Quergam, the two apprentices, were young dalhari prone to practical jokes. They spent much of the evening discussing what they’d done to various masters during the week.

“You know, one of these days someone is going to get back at you for all of that,” Spike said, even as he laughed at the tricks.

“Us? I doubt it. Who would they have to do the menial labor? ‘Get me that spindle, Hopfe.’ ‘Quergam, where is that wool?’ ‘Spike, I told you to unload those carts of urush hours ago!’” Hopfe said in imitation of Yahjain, Murge, and Paven, respectively.

Quergam chimed in. “’And you can’t go home until you’ve finished that entire loom. Don’t even think about taking a break!’” The dalhari had captured Murge’s shrill voice exactly, making them all wince.

Spike shook his head at their antics. At times like these, it wasn’t hard for him to believe he really was older than these two—although not my much. “I still say they’re going to tear you all to bloody hell—when you least expect it.”

“You’re no fun. Imagine Paven’s face if you switched the radiele leaves!” Hopfe chortled at the image of Paven trying to use a vat of solid dye.

“Did that to myself already.” The two apprentices sighed in disgust.

“We’ll find something for you to do, Spike. Don’t worry, we will.” Hopfe patted Spike on the shoulder consolingly. The rest of dinner was equally pleasant, although Spike cried off early to get some sleep.

•••

Spring was in full force the next time Spike visited the Agraka. This time he was better prepared for the cool treatment he’d probably receive. In addition, he wasn’t there just to look around. This trip was purely guild business. Paven had volunteered Spike to deliver a finished order of linen to a tailor’s shop. He was also required to renegotiate the cost of the linen, because the tribe that had purchased the material had broken a contract with the guild. The contract had been awarded to another human tribe, so the negotiations had the potential to be quite tense.

Most of the humans in La’iv belonged to a single tribe, the Va. Tribes were the human equivalent of dalhari houses, and most dalhari simply referred to human tribes as houses. Some humans did the same of dalhari houses, and neither species seemed to take much offense. The Va had been contracted to raise prhang, a llama-like animal that produced the fine wools used by dalhari. The tribe had failed to protect the expensive animals, and many had been taken by predators. It was out of necessity that the guild had transferred the animals, and the contract, to another tribe, the Ranj.

Hiding his trepidation, Spike pulled the ifnan he was driving up short and hopped off the cart to find the tailor. The man he was looking for was the same one who had questioned him the first time he’d been in the Agraka.

“May I help you, dalhari-man?” The tailor greeted him coldly. Spike had asked Fain about the humans at one point, and the dalhari had added little to what Gaha had said, except to remark that some humans in La’iv were worse than others. Apparently, the tailor was worse. Spike didn’t understand how the human could like humans and dalhari, but not humans who lived with dalhari. Well, he could understand, but he didn’t like it one bit.

Spike grinned. “I’m from the guild—your order’s ready.” The tailor’s face fell.

“Oh.” The man accompanied him outside, motioning to his assistants to help them. Spike stopped them before they could unload the bolts of fabric.

“The price needs to be agreed upon,” Spike said. The tailor scowled.

“We agreed on a price when I ordered it,” the human retorted.

Spike returned the scowl with one of his own. “That was before you broke the contract.”

The tailor swore. “I’m not negotiating just because your guild is fickle and cheap and changed the contract!”

Spike sighed. “The contract was dependent on you raising and caring for that flock. Half the adults and two-thirds of the young died!”

The tailor swore again. Perhaps sending him instead of a dalhari had been a bad idea. In fact, Spike was sure it had been. A small crowd of humans had gathered around the tailor’s shop, watching the show.

The irate tailor motioned to his assistants, who approached the cart again. “The guild has all of my money they’re going to get, so I suggest you leave me my order.” Spike took a step back. He was armed—Paven had demanded that he keep the swords Del gave him with him whenever he went out on guild business. Spike wasn’t sure that this was an appropriate time to fight anyone though. A few bolts of cloth just weren’t worth it.

“If you’re not going to pay more, you can have the part of the order your money covers,” Spike replied. “Which is about a third of it.”

The tailor was obviously not going to accept that offering. One of the burly assistants came forward to move Spike out of the way. He was surprised to find the point of a dalhari sword pricking his neck. Spike’s other sword was drawn but pointed toward the ground. “I think it’s best I leave. Your order will be at the guild, if you so choose to purchase it.” Spike withdrew the sword slowly, and then leapt on the cart. He was sure that shock was the only thing keeping the tailor’s men from attacking him.

The crowd parted as he drove the ifnan away. By the time he got back to the guild, his shaking had almost subsided completely. Paven met him at the loading docks. “You’re supposed to leave the order and bring the money, Spike.”

Spike snorted. “Not likely. Damned humans attacked me.” He was about to walk into the guild hall when Paven shot out a hand and stopped him.

“What?” Spike was shocked. He’d never heard Paven shriek before.

Spike briefly described his encounter with the humans, adding in some of his observations about them. The more he said, the angrier Paven looked.

“Come on.” Paven, still clutching his arm, drug him through the guild hall. As she passed weavers, she ordered them into the great room.

By the time he and Paven arrived, the room was filled with weavers. She pushed him right up to the front, where Yahjain stood waiting.

“I assume you’re going to explain this, Paven?” Yahjain said patiently. Paven was not known for calling meetings on a whim.

Paven prodded Spike, making him repeat the tale. Yahjain’s reaction was even more severe than Paven’s. The other guild members also listened in, and by the time his retelling ended, the room was in an uproar.

Yahjain silenced them with a shout. He then turned to Spike. “Perhaps we should have anticipated their reactions to you—they certainly would not have attacked a dalhari. However, that is no excuse for their behavior. This will be dealt with.”

Spike listened with growing disbelief as the weavers began to argue and fight. He’d never seen dalhari act so…aggressively. A surprising number of them wanted to bring charges down on the tailor. Others were calmer, simply preferring to sever all ties to the human community. That would have a far longer-lasting effect, since there if one weaver’s guild hall shunned a community, no other guild hall anywhere would dare deal with them.

Hopfe and Quergam joined Spike, offering him a mug of water. He accepted gratefully and listened as the two jokesters began a running commentary on the proceedings. None of them were involved in the discussions, other than Spike occasionally answering a question, since they were just apprentices.

Finally, Yahjain called for silence. “I believe that charges are not required for this incident, because Spike is unhurt. However, punishment must be meted out. Therefore, the guild shall cease all business dealings and sever all contracts with the human Agraka for a period of five years, or until the tailor Davd apologizes and offers compensation to Spike.” A few of the weavers grumbled, but most accepted the ruling. It was severe enough to satisfy all but the most bloodthirsty.

Spike was taken aback by the guild’s behavior. It hadn’t really registered until now that he was truly accepted by the dalhari. He knew that they put up with him, even tolerated him, but he’d never been completely sure of his place. Now he knew. For all intents and purposes, he was a dalhari.

He’d even begun to think like one. Hadn’t he silently referred to the tailor as ‘human?’ He never really thought of the dalhari he knew as ‘dalhari,’ but as individuals—they were Fain, Vaishi and Gaha. Hells, he never even noticed the coloration, or the wings and tail. He wondered if he’d ever wake up one morning questioning where his were.

When Spike got back to the house, it was apparent that the Disiaron had been notified of the incident. The elders practically fawned over him, and Gaha offered her personal apologies. He reassured them that there had been no way to predict what would happen. Spike asked her what the incident would do to the relationship between humans and dalhari. She responded that it would do less than he feared. While to the humans he was an outsider, to the dalhari of La’iv he was one of their own. They simply saw it as an affront to the guild, the clan and the house. There was nothing more to it.

Spike went to bed with an odd, warm sensation surrounding him. He had never been accepted unconditionally like that—and had certainly never been defended in such a manner. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had a family—one that cared for him. It did much to dull the ache he still felt due to Del’s absence. She may have left him, but she had given him a home.