It was less pleasing in the morning when I woke to mayhem, and on top of my body to boot: a knot of snarling fur and yelling people, and Last trying to interpose himself between all the flailing arms and none of it making any sense until I felt Kelu’s teeth graze my arm. “Last! Last! Your knife!” I shouted, and hoped I’d said it in the right language, and I must have for I felt the haft shoved into my lifted palm. I sliced a long ragged line along the back of one arm, droplets of blood fragrant and hot fanning from the skin as I thrust it across my chest to protect my throat. A muzzle locked onto it and I said in Lit, “Let her go! Let her!”

“Locke!”

“Morgan!”

“Let her go!” I repeated, and Last finally interposed himself between my well-meaning rescuers and my magic-addled genet. Genets, by then, for the Pearls had crept closer in Kelu’s wake, and I nodded to them. Only Almond remained apart, trembling with want but unable to attack or even discommode me without express permission. I reached for her with my free arm and she came, hesitant and shivering.

“I need not, Master,” she whispered.

I kissed her on her nose, making her ears flush. “And if it is my gift to make, and I wish to make it to you?”

She looked at her sisters, feeding on me, which had the unwelcome effect of making me more aware of it myself. The Pearls were delicate, not having Kelu’s need... but Kelu’s need made her savage, and she pulled from my vein as if to exsanguinate me. There was no pleasure in it for any of us this time, though I found it more distressing than painful. But it remained my duty... and only Almond allowed me to execute it with some grace. She curled into my arm and rested her face against the crook of my neck, waiting until the others were done. By then the wounds had closed, so as the other genets knelt back, licking their bloody mouths, I used Last’s dagger on my palm and offered it to her, and she leaned forward and licked it, delicate and exact, and the warm wet swipes of her tongue raised the hair on the back of my neck. I might have put the cut elsewhere, but to have it on the hand I wrote with, and grasped the staff… that seemed important. If blood-binding we must observe with these creatures we had made, we could surely do worse than to turn it into an act of intimacy and trust.

When the wound closed over, she rubbed her cheek against my hand and I hugged her, and reached for the others and held them too—even prickly Kelu, whose draught at my arm had rendered her limp and, for the moment, willing to be embraced. Only then, when I had them all tucked against my chest, did I look up and see the crowd encircling me, and their expressions, each according to their natures. Radburn horrified; Guy narrow-eyed and considering; Eyre and Ivy both distressed but showing some measure of trust in me, that I would not do such a thing for no reason; Chester... Chester, pale but composed. And Rose, the Vessel, unsurprised but stiff with reserve hiding what, I wondered.

“Thank you,” I said to Last, and gave him back his dagger. “I would clean it but—”

“I would be honored to,” he said, bowing to me.

Drawing in a breath, I looked over the furry heads and said to my human audience, “You know now that there is magic in the blood. The genets were created by magic, and all of them thirst for the magic in blood. Some of them need it to maintain their sanity.”

Appalled, Radburn said, “Who would do such a thing?”

“Which thing?” Guy wondered. “Having the hubris to make thinking creatures out of animals, or making them vampiric?”

Ivy shot him a stern look. “Really, Guy. Have you no manners at all?” She advanced on us and knelt beside Kelu. Taking out her handkerchief, she proffered it to the astonished genet, who accepted it more out of surprise than desire. Having done so, though, she resigned herself to patting her mouth and nose with it before hesitating; at Ivy’s gesture, she passed it to Seven, who tidied herself with the fastidiousness of a cat. Nine did the same, and Almond, who took it last, folded it and handed it back to Ivy, not needing it. She was a neat drinker.

“I didn’t think you believed in God, to worry that we might attain to the privileges of creation,” Chester said to Guy.

“One can put aside petty superstitions while still acknowledging that some ideas are ill-advised.”

“Petty superstition,” Kelu said, dry. “Like, say, human princesses who called down the blood of angels into human beings.” She flicked her ears. “If I savage you, human, will I find what I need in your blood ladders?”

Radburn laughed. “Ha! Well said. She has you there, Guy, fairly. God a superstition... like angels?”

“Wait, blood? Did we say anything about angelic blood?” Eyre asked, puzzled.

“What else could it be?” Kelu asked, ears flicking back. “What do you think carries magic from one person to another, anyway?”

No one looked at Rose, which was well, because she neither confirmed nor denied Kelu’s guess. Which left us all contemplating the uncomfortable notion that we might have literally been infused with divinity.

“Elves are obviously real, and magic,” Guy said, breaking the silence. “I’ll believe in angels when I see one.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Can humans feed whatever need it is these creations have? Or is our borrowed divinity—blood-carried or not—too weak?”

“They’re mine to feed,” I said, not knowing that I would speak, and yet when I did I knew I could have done no else.

“Surely in the name of science—”

“Some things are more important than science,” I said.

Silence. The priestess smiled and glided off to see to her people’s preparations for the day’s ride. Last, of course, interjected nothing. What was science to the elven culture, which was still mired in fairy tale and magic? But my friends were looking at me as if I’d grown horns. Even Chester seemed taken aback. Not upset, certainly, but... surprised.

“The study of the natural sciences brought us to where we are,” Eyre said finally for them. “Without them, we would still be mired in the ignorance of the past and the fruits that ignorance bore. That was a grim harvest, my student.”

“I would not say otherwise,” I said. “But I have a responsibility to these four, and I will not relinquish it so that we may make study of their suffering.”

Another silence, more uncomfortable, which was broken surprisingly by Almond, who said, “It’s all right, Master. We live to serve you, even in our suffering.”

“God!” Radburn exclaimed. “No. You’re entirely correct, Morgan. Even if saying so makes it obvious just how different you’ve become.”

I snorted. “And the bellsong voice and moon-sparkle skin are not enough to make that clear.”

“A man can change on the outside and still be the same on the inside,” Radburn said.

“And sometimes,” Chester murmured, “A man can finally be free to be revealed as he is.”

Guy sighed, exasperated. “This is sentimentality, and frivolous. I will leave you all to it.”

After he’d left, dragging the others behind him, Ivy said to me, “That was well done. They become too enthusiastic sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” I replied, chagrined, remembering when I had been as likely as any of them to call for similar measures.

She kissed my cheek, then delighted Almond by petting her. “Also, I’m not sure they understand that your friends here are people. Once they do, they will no longer think of suggesting such callous treatment.”

Grudgingly, Kelu said, “You’re kind to think so. But in my experience, people who look very different from other people are never treated well.”

Surprisingly, Last said from above us, “The genet is right, Lady. You will see soon enough.”

The two were prescient, for the debate began that very afternoon, when everyone was enjoying the slight respite of an hour’s walk to rest the horses before our next push.

“What makes a person?” Radburn wondered. “I mean, how do you know if something has a soul?”

“Presuming souls exist,” Guy put in.

“Souls exist.” Chester sounded more resigned than offended, but then this was a variation on a discourse we’d whiled away hours in the opining; Ivy and Chester had forever been on the Church’s side, with Guy and Radburn arguing against, which had landed me in the position of poking holes in the arguments tendered on either side. We had never succeeded in adding anything to the study of ontology that had not already been far more elegantly stated by the metaphysical philosophers, but when had that ever stopped a student? “If souls did not, nothing would animate the body, and bodies are most certainly animate.”

“By that definition, animals are persons,” Radburn pointed out. “Real ones, I mean. That don’t reason.” He glanced at Kelu apologetically. “No offense intended.”

“Why should I be offended?” Kelu asked with dangerous politeness. “I am an animal. So are you.”

“We’re not animals!” Radburn exclaimed.

“To the elves you are,” she said, tail flicking over the side of the drake’s ribs. “Mere food to most of them. No better than cows.” She smiled thinly. “So if the elves think humans are animals, does that mean they have no souls?”

“We should admit her to the program,” Guy said. “Professor, you will oblige us when we return, eh?”

“Only if she so desires,” Eyre said, and I couldn’t tell if this was jest or promise, probably because he wasn’t sure either. “The parallel is not without merit. The genet—”

“Kelu,” I offered.

“Miss Kelu is obviously a reasoning creature,” Eyre continued. “Why should she not have a soul?”

Behind me, Last said in the Angel’s Gift, “They are constructs.”

“Last?” I said, startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“Constructs are not people,” Last said. “They do not reproduce. They must be created. The genets are complex and admirable creations, Lord Locke, but the elves would never consider them people, as they cannot sustain themselves without aid.”

“So are humans people?” I asked.

“Humans are chattel, to most elves.”

I frowned.

“Morgan?” Radburn asked.

“Last says that most elves consider humans chattel; perhaps that is unavoidable, given historical precedent. It’s hard to imagine them being willing to elevate us to some more dignified position when we so recently betrayed them.”

“Betrayed you,” Eyre said gently. “You not being one of us anymore.”

I flushed, but chose not to address the point, lest it distract from the argument. “The elves seem also to make distinctions between creatures which must be constructed and cannot be maintained without outside aid, and those which can reproduce without that aid. I find this distinction unconvincing, however. We ourselves were created by a being with greater power than our own.”

“Presupposing a God, which I suppose we must these days,” Guy said. “Though I think even that is debatable. Even given that initial act of creation, we fail the second criterion, because we sustain ourselves without aid.”

Ivy said, “Only because of women. If the women were to be unavailable, or die, then the race would die with them. Humans have vulnerabilities—in the right situation, we too, would be unable to sustain ourselves.” She sniffed. “Besides, it was not so long ago that men were convinced that women were not reasoning creatures either. It should not surprise me that men might again be unwilling to extend the basic courtesy of a soul to other reasoning creatures.”

Guy touched his chest. “I believe I am bleeding.”

“A good touch,” Chester agreed, grinning at Ivy.

“Your honor has been defended, I believe,” Radburn told Kelu, who flicked her ears back.

“Am I supposed to be grateful after listening to you talking about us as if we’re not here?”

Nine murmured, “It was an interesting thing to listen.”

Kelu rolled her eyes. “You would think so. You were only lately in a cage, and probably happy about it.”

“We are not the Almonds,” Seven said, putting her ears back. “We do not like cages. We’re used to them, that’s all.”

“You don’t expect better,” Nine agreed. “There’s no use pining for it.”

My human compatriots were now listening to them. Radburn said, appalled, “You lived in cages?”

I could sense the Pearls exchanging glances behind my back. Nine replied, “All genets live in cages. Stacks of cages, separated by breed.”

“Outdoors,” Kelu added, disgusted. “Because it’s easier to let the rain wash us than to bathe us each individually.”

“Oh, Kelu,” Almond said, ears sagging. “You know that’s not it at all! It’s just that there are so many of us. It would be a great inconvenience to ask our creators to bathe and brush us all. We exist to serve, not to be served.”

“A noble sentiment,” Eyre said. “But only if practiced amongst the like-minded, and the service is not coerced.”

“Oh but it isn’t!” Almond exclaimed simultaneously with Kelu’s, “What else would it be?”

The Pearls did not opine.

“It looks like we’re stopping,” Chester said. “Time to stretch the legs.”

An exquisite sense of timing, had Chester. The genets slid off the back of the drake and found themselves the object of Radburn’s curiosity, but since it seemed a harmless interaction I left them to it. Ivy was hovering near Almond and Kelu, so I trusted her to mediate any overly effusive emotion on Radburn’s part. Radburn had been puzzling me, in fact; I had recalled him to be a touch sensitive, but his reactions lately bordered on the histrionic. Was it the distress of being thrown headlong into a life of change? And yet, Ivy and Chester seemed to be taking it well; Guy, indefatigable as always, would probably be unmoved the day an angel touched earth, but surely the others would have provided models for appropriate behavior.

I wondered if it would be my lot as elven prince to adjudicate over the ruffled tempers of a court full of elves. God help me if so. Perhaps I could prevail on Chester to teach me some of whatever it was he’d absorbed in his training as heir to economic empire, or Ivy might give me lessons in graciousness when under siege by a society insistent on her inferiority. I sighed and went to attend to myself and to check on my elves, and afterwards found the Vessel consulting with one of her knights beside a horse. Their conversation seemed more urgent than I thought natural, so I drifted closer to listen.

And found myself astonished. At the earliest opportunity, I said, “Did I hear you had need of a shoe?”

The knight and the priestess both looked up at me. “Yes?” the former said. “For a horse. My horse has thrown hers.”

“Hold a moment,” I said, and made haste back to the drake. While the others continued their debate, I went through the panniers until I found the horseshoe, then brought it back and proffered it. “Will this one serve?”

“You have a spare?” the knight said, frowning. “But our horses are heavier than palfreys, and not likely to fit a smaller….” He trailed off, examining it. “Saints preserve.”

“It will, won’t it,” I said, suppressing my excitement.

“It looks so similar as to seem it came off her,” he said, stunned. “But of course that can't be. Either way, I will give it to Evan, who serves us as farrier, and we will see what he can make of it.” He met my eyes. “My lord, thank you. I don’t know how you came to have something as plebian as a horseshoe in your possession, but I’m grateful.”

“It’s nothing.”

The Vessel said to the knight, “The saint is pleased with our progress and would be aggrieved if you didn’t complete the journey with us. See to your steed, sir.”

“Gladly, Holy One.”

Drawing me away, Rose canted her head. “You really did have a horseshoe in your pack?”

“One of my genets found it on the road.”

“Serendipitous,” she murmured.

Serendipity? Or something else? “Perhaps you’re right about the saint.”

“I know I am,” she said with another of those unexpected grins, and left me.

I thought again of magic. A genet who came into the right things at the right time? Were they then like elves and apparently humans? Or could they be, if they too were freed from the bizarre circumstances of their creation? Was the ability to change the world within them, but the impetus to act conditioned from them by their masters?

The others were already on their horses when I returned to mount the drake, and the discussion had evolved in my absence.

“Start again?” I said as the train began to move forward. “How is it that we have come to posit a society with mobility between the social classes of magic-wielders?”

“By their being able to change their magical aptitude,” Radburn said, with too studied an innocence for my tastes.

I looked at Guy, who said, “Presuming that the ingestion of divine blood creates that aptitude, we have a source, or will soon. This being theoretical of course, as we have been unable to divine if the ingestion of the proper blood actually creates magical ability, or if this is some fever dream advanced by a vampire with an interest in exsanguination.”

Kelu sniffed, but I thought this description did not displease her.

“It is obviously a blessing that cannot be bestowed by humans,” Chester said to me. “Or else Saint Winifred would not have needed to call down an angel to make it possible.”

Eyre said, “But it is an interesting thought exercise, to consider whether we could create an equitable society by elevating those of poor talent.”

I held up a hand. “Stop. You are meaning to tell me you are speculating on a society in which humans advance based on their predation on... what? Angels?”

“No,” Radburn said. “On elves.”

“God!” I exclaimed. “Are you mad? Do you want to create the viciousness I have lately escaped?”

“Ah, but elves wouldn’t be allowed to prey on humanity in our new society,” Guy said.

“But humans preying on elves is somehow justifiable.” I glanced at Chester. “And you? Support this?”

“None of us support it,” Chester said, unruffled by my vehemence. “As the professor said, it’s merely an exercise. I don’t believe aptitude is conveyed by elven blood, or you would have created an entire race of magicians in your genet companions... and they are obviously not sorcerers—pardon me, ladies. I should say sorceresses, as there are no males among you.”

The genets were listening. I wondered if only Almond noticed my tension at the offhand comment about genet magic.

Guy was eyeing me. “This has you sincerely disturbed, does it. Do you think that to speak of it is to make it happen? Be reasonable, Morgan. Whatever our faults, we aren’t in favor of human—or any other creature’s—sacrifice.”

They didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Even Ivy, to whom I’d spoken of everything that befell me, had been spared an account of what it was like to be supped on magically. I had not wanted to linger on the memory, had not thought it necessary. To blame them for my sensitivity on the matter was unfair. I marshaled my thoughts, hoping to be able to make explanation, wondering if I would be able.

Surprisingly, Kelu spoke for me. “Anyone who’s been used for food would hate to do it to someone else. Even I hate it. And I hate elves and wish every horrible thing for them.” She patted my arm. “No offense, as your red-haired friend says.”

“Radburn,” Radburn supplied.

“Right. Him.”

“I’m not offended,” I said, and I wasn’t. Her reluctance to attack me, and her shame that she was forced to rely on elves for sustenance, was clear in her every word and act. And I knew her well enough to think that she was lying, at least a little, about hating every elf.

“It would be awful to have to feed on someone,” Almond agreed, her ears sagging. “That should be something shared out of love. The way our masters show their love by sharing their blood with us.”

“There you are,” Guy said to Chester. “An equitable society created by elven blood-letting, performed solely by volunteers.”

“To the worthy,” Radburn added.

“How does one determine who is worthy?” Eyre asked, with the air of a professor putting forth a question for the class.

“A hypothetical premise,” Chester said. “As we have no proof that elven blood accomplishes anything, and no, before anyone asks, we shall not be asking Locke to make the proof. If we will not suffer the genets to be experimented on, we cannot also put their masters to the test.”

“Who’d want to drink blood anyway,” Radburn said with a shudder.

“The Church also passed the blessing through the kiss,” Ivy offered with a mischievous tone. “Or so it was said in the rite.”

“Kissing, that I could see. Even if it meant kissing you, Morgan,” Guy said.

“I would hate to think that every kiss I gave bestowed divine favor!”

“Why?” Guy asked, grinning. “Have you left a trail of kissed people behind you we might examine for magical aptitude?”

“We’d have to have some measurement of their ability before the kiss to make any sense of the data,” Chester said.

I suppressed the urge to cover my face with my hand. I thought Kelu was snickering, and worse, Ivy blushing. Smiling through the blush, at least, but still...!

“So we are back where we started,” Radburn complained. “An inequitable society.”

“And our society now is so equitable,” Ivy observed, which set them off again.

I mulled my own thoughts in silence, aware of the discussion but not following it. Last was riding at my flank, as always, so I said to him in Angel’s Gift, “Does our blood bestow divine gifts?”

“An arrogant belief,” Last said. “We are not God.”

I heard the words he didn’t say. “But we do give something.”

“The genets seek the magic in your blood. In Kelu’s case, to fuel the enchantment that maintains her sanity, or prevents it from seeping away… in the case of the others, because it refills the wells of their souls. These wells are what we draw on to create magic, Lord Locke. One cannot make the well larger or smaller. But one can pour water into it, if it is empty.”

“With blood,” I said, surprised.

“Or kisses. Or tears.” He nodded. “The flesh even. There were once animals whose flesh, when consumed, yielded those waters.”

“You are saying they’re right,” I said. “At least in part.”

“In no part that matters.” Last shook his head like a horse shying. “They wish to create a society where people can be permanently improved by magic. But to do that requires more than blood. It requires blood enchantments, and female spells. It is not a minor thing.”

I thought of the enchantment that had bound the elves in the first place. “Was it a woman who created the immortality spell, then?”

Last grimaced. “It was demon-made, my prince. Demons are the infernal counterpart of angels. Their powers do not know the limitations of embodiment.”

I glanced at the back of Kelu’s head. “And the genets?”

“Certainly a spell enacted by a woman. Though a man could have done the research, as presumably the sorcerer did when he answered Suleris’s request.”

I frowned. “And yet so few people have power past Dissipation. Who then was strong enough to empower this spell? What woman?”

“That, I do not know.”

Chester had fallen back to ride alongside me, leaving the conversational baton to Ivy, who was arguing with Radburn about something real rather than theoretical—the actual inequalities suffered by women, and whether these could be addressed, or did anyone care that women could hardly attend the university or learn trade when they were burdened with the majority of the childcare duties. Guy let Radburn do battle for him, wisely I thought, for this was a subject on which Ivy was justly passionate. I pitied anyone with the audacity to disagree with her. It was a pleasure to ride beside Last, and with Chester at my near side, in that quiet.

“Either way,” Last said presently, “Some things are not wise to share.” When I glanced at him sharply, he said, “My work is to guard you. I make my life more difficult if I tell your companions that there is some virtue, no matter how fleeting, in your blood, or your tears.”

“I trust these people with my life,” I said quietly.

“It is my job to trust no one with it, so that you may continue to do so.”

I nodded after a moment. “Kemses chose you well, Captain.”

His pleasure was palpable and carried some hint of embarrassment at the praise. I didn’t press, and in fact could not for Kelu had somehow joined the conversation at large, leaving me unable to ignore it. “Did you just say that men seemed like too much trouble to you?”

“No,” Radburn said for the genet. “For God’s sake, Morgan, use your ears, they’re long enough now. She said she didn’t understand the purpose of the division of the sexes, if it creates dissent in society.”

“Maybe your way isn’t the best way,” Kelu said to me when I glanced down at her. “Maybe we should all be women. Or men. I think it would be interesting to be male.”

“Why?” Ivy asked, appalled.

“Because men seem to have everything, and women nothing, if I’m hearing you correctly.”

“Lord,” Chester muttered. “We have scarcely met new species of intelligent creatures and we are already contaminating them with our diseases.”

“I would hardly wish to posit a society where I didn’t exist,” Radburn said.

“Oh, you’d exist,” Ivy said. “Just as a woman.”

Guy started snickering.

“I hope we’ll be starting the cantering portion of our day soon,” Chester said mournfully.

Eyre laughed. “Let us find a new thought exercise, lest we make full half our companions glum.”

This we did, until the Vessel called for her gallop, and then we gave ourselves to the task of riding. I spent the hours with attention divided between the ever-present discussion, my appreciation of the countryside, and my consideration of Last’s commentary.

It was the latter that prompted me to seek him after we’d made camp, and I took with me the staff.

“Lord Locke?” he said, glancing at it, then at me.

“It is your task to keep me safe,” I said, grave. “It is my task to make that work easier. May we resume our lessons, Captain?”

My request pleased him even more than my compliment earlier. “Of course. We might use this area here, where there are fewer trees. For now.”

“For now?” I repeated.

“You will have to learn how to handle obstacles,” Last observed. “Few enemies are so courteous as to ensure you have a level field and every advantage.”

“Truth,” I said with a sigh and smiled faintly. “Well, let us improve my education.”

Our sparring incited curiosity, but less than I anticipated; only the Vessel’s aid made it comfortable for my companions to sustain her pace, and even healed they needed rest. My own affliction was not a product of physical exertion; rather I was restless, longed to be apart from the drake’s saddle and on my own feet. The exercise soothed me more than lying down would have, though by the end of my session with Last I was quite prepared to go to my bedroll. When I did, Chester was the only one still awake, sitting in a pyramid of blankets.

“You watched all of my disgrace,” I guessed.

“Not so much of a disgrace, given that you must have begun lessons all of half a year ago, at best.”

“Try a month and a half ago.”

He laughed. “Then you’re doing excellently. Guy and I were dissecting your technique before he gave in and went to his pillow.”

“God help me.” I gently rearranged one of the Pearls—Seven, the finder of things—and discovered my blanket under her, which I found appropriate; even asleep, she was helping uncover the missing. “I’m glad I acquitted myself competently.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But you’re coming along.” Chester grinned at the rueful expression I flashed him. “Having said that, however… your captain is superb. I don’t suppose he might be willing to take on an additional student?”

Surprised, I said, “I don’t know. But I can ask.”

“Thank you,” Chester said. “This ride is destroying me, but we’re only a few days into it, and there won’t be any toughening up if I don’t make the effort.”

I could only hope it worked that way. Having only recently come into a body that worked, only to discover it worked in ways oblique to humankind thanks to the enchantment, I had to trust his regimen would not make him worse.

“I’ll ask,” I promised.