I woke up in the same room, but my hind legs were still shackled to rings in the wall. The pain from the deep cut in my ear had lessened but However, moving my right ear brought it back and even more pain. The stench of death told me that the nuncipal was still in the room. He was standing next to Tarik, who was sitting at a desk near a window, drawing a rune, with three finished ones beside him. The nuncipal stood a little to the side but watched every stroke of the quill. Finally, Tarik made his last stroke, nodded, stood up and stretched.

The nuncipal asked him something in Loma and he answered in Kwal. When the nuncipal gave the slightest hint of a nod, Tarik almost ran to me. "Kiara, are you all right?"

"Pain, but ok. What?"

"The nuncipal wants a demonstration of soul magic."

"So you making centaur?"

"No, he wants a flying human."

"Flying?" The nuncipal certainly was up for a challenge. "Can you doing?"

"Maybe, it's interesting. But let me see your ear."

"Ouch, careful." And then I whispered quickly. "They having soul mage brother. He wantinged to touch my soul. But I winninged. And bother soul was dark blanket but then light under it."

He whispered back. "Yes, their souls are scarred. Later." But he asked aloud: "Really, no food?"

I shook my head.

"That's enough!" the nuncipal shouted, adding more in Loma.

Tarik made a miserable face and came back. He held up his rune and explained something. Then eight more inquisitors entered, including the two with black headbands who had witnessed the cleric's failed attempt at soul magic on me. They were followed by another brother with a black headband and two inquisitors, each carrying a cage containing a large crow, their wings bound together and their beaks tied shut.

"I need more birds to hold a human soul," Tarik said in Kren, switching to Kwal for the rest of the sentence. I was not sure what message he was trying to send me.

The nuncipal only moved his fingers a little and five inquisitors left the room.

Then Tarik pointed to the runes on the table and spoke some more.

The nuncipal ordered the brother with the black headband to Tarik's desk. He put his hand on the stack of runes, closed his eyes and something happened. And then the brother collapsed in front of the desk, not dead, just unconscious. Two inquisitors carried the collapsed brother out of the room. I guessed he had charged up Tarik’s runes.

Tarik had watched it first with interest, then with horror, and was now carefully examining his runes, frowning.

Someone came to the nuncipal, who barely acknowledged that person. Instead, the nuncipal walked slowly over to me. Food arrived before he did, and not just bread and water, but soup and some fruit and vegetables. "Dear Countess Kiara, I apologise for the inconvenience," the nuncipal said, "but Mage Tarik was unwilling to show us his soul magic. How else could we judge it? Please enjoy your lunch and rest assured that no further harm will come to you as long as Mage Tarik stands by his words."

This was, of course, as unbelievable a statement as any from his mouth and rather mocking me as both my hands and forelegs were still bound together. But neither Tarik nor I had any options. So I played along, docile and not spitting in his face. Instead, I nodded politely at the food and ate little morsels with my tied hands. My mouth was dry and it almost hurt to swallow after my two days of forced dieting. I drank a lot of water and slowly my appetite returned.

"Dear countess," the nuncipal said after I ate a little. I had completely forgotten about him, even his stench had almost numbed. "Can you speak something in Earth for me? Perhaps there is a language close to it?"

"Sorry, I not understanding."

An ordinary, blue-cowled cleric came to my other side, no inquisitor, no black headband. He bowed and held out his hand. A mindspeaker. I was torn. To feign ignorance seemed prudent. But then again, not that I had a choice. Maybe, if I played along, I could get the shackles removed. So I nodded, took his hand and placed it on my furry back.

"The nuncipal asks you to speak in Earth. He may recognise your language," the cleric repeated.

That was highly unlikely, but I saw no harm in it. "I would be very happy if there were no more shackles," I said, "and I think Tarik would cooperate."

The blue cleric translated my words to the nuncipal, who just showed the tiniest frown. Apparently, my Earth sounded alien even to him. As for the content of my sentence, I had no illusions that it would change my status.

"You died from an iron carriage?" the cleric relayed the nincipal's question.

Again, no harm in telling the truth. "Yes," I answered again in Earth, "many iron carriages, bound together and moved by technology."

"Is technology magic?" came the counter-question.

"No," I said and then stopped. I hesitated. I had no idea how a train or phone worked but I still used them. "It is different. Technology has rules too, but anyone can use it without knowing the rules. But I have already forgotten so much."

He translated my answer, increasing the frown of the nuncipal.

"How much have you forgotten?" the nuncipal asked in Kren, too impatient to wait for the mindspeak translation.

"Not knowing. I remeberinged only half my name."

The nuncipal face was a Grand Canyon of wrinkles from that deep frown, so he referred to Tarik. Tarik's answer was clearly "I don't know either", judging by his posture and the unchanged expression of the nuncipal.

Before the interrogation could continue, six more inquisitors arrived with six more bound crows, on held by each of them. The first still dazed birds now lay on the table which covered with a black cloth.

The nuncipal shuffled over to Tarik. The mindspeaking cleric had received no new instructions and hence remained at my side.

"I am Countess Kiara of Earth and Litra," I introduced myself, "brought into this world by the soul magic of Tarik."

The blue cleric did not reply.

So I turned to my food while I watched Tarik prepare for the soul magic. He spoke a lot in Kwal and some Loma too. But I did not need a translation, I had seen it before. He froze the first bird and then the second and then shortly incanting the invokation. The then took out their souls, tiny black shining balls whose light darkened this room full of daylight. Eerie, but then that was soul magic. But none of the brothers show any reaction. How had they developed their own soul magic, being blind to the actual souls? That seemed highly unlikely. And from my corner, I could only see the backs of their heads, so I would miss if some were squinting.

Tarik was merging the whole crows one to one. It was quite fast procedure, much faster than any work he had done on Larina and the two humans, maybe because everything matched. Soon there was much bigger crow lying on the rune. He merged another two crows until he had for big crows, and repeated this another three times. While he was working, noon passed, marked by a hymn sung outside. Almost at the stroke of the gong, the last huge crows had been merged into a truly gigantic, more than eagle-sized crow. And not only the body had grown: The soul of the eight merged crows was now almost the size of his fist and darkened the room like it was evening. Everyone was deeply impressed by the size of the bird, myself included (and silently wondering if the ticks in their feathers had grown with it). But mostly, the soul worried me.

Overall, it had not been a challenge for Tarik, given the speed of his work, for the afternoon shower had not even begun. But the dark clouds were already obscuring the sun.

I had whispered some comments to the blue cleric, not sure if he could understand Kwal.

Then Tarik said something to the nuncipal, who nodded and went to his chair in the corner.

"The mage will now capture a human soul. We may feel the pull of his lures on our souls. Do not interfere," the blue cleric sent to me, his first response since the nuncipal had left my side.

Tarik was indeed doing something new. Very thin violet soul filaments left his body, much like the soul-magic wielding brother back in the tower. I shuddered. But Tarik's soul filaments remained thin, just threads of violet light. He weaved them around and pushed them out, connecting a lot of them to the clerics and inquisitors in the first row. Nothing else happened, while the outside grew darker and thunder began to roll. No one dared to move, just Tarik wielding soul magic, although I had the impression a lot was to decieve his spectators. Then Tarik shot a tiny piece of his soul along one soul filaments to a nearby blue cleric. As a result, a few dim, darkened soul flakes flew off that body and evaporated. I held my breath but no one had noticed anything. Only the cleric groaned and fell to his knees, then crawled to the back of the room.

Lightning flickered close by and thunder shook the room. Tarik stood still, his face relaxed but his eyes closed in deep concentration. In quick succession, he shot tiny soul fragments along the remaining soul filaments connecting him with the clerics. One after another cleric was struck by Tarik's soul, soul scars flew off, almost like black snow, fitting to the previous display with the dark crow's soul. And one after the other, crlerics and inquisitors sway, moaned or dropped to their knees. Then, Tarik jerked as the other the soul filaments tightened. He shouted something in Kwal and began frentic work while a large cleric near to the nuncipal translated Tariks words. "This is the soul of a young woman who just died in the city," the cleric corfimred it. I was not sure if he was being ordered or did it out of shock from Tarik's statement for a follower of The Soul.

Meanwhile, Tarik reeled the soul in with a mixture of inhaling and net-hauling pantomine. Soon the room was brightly lit by the yellow-green light of a normal soul as far as I could tell from my limited experience. He took out the crows soul, dividing the room in a bright and a dark side, the divider where the light of the souls met. He closely approached the souls, trembling and with sweat on his face. Like the would reject each other. He started to draw soul filaments from the caught soul, confining the crow's soul darkness. But it was not enough, suddenly the room was dropped into total darkness, the bright light of the human soul had converted to the crow's soul dark light. Only when he put the merged soul back, I could again follow the actions. As soon as the merged soul sank into the crow, a back translucent outline of a human torse appeared. The crows's flesh and feathers flowed outwards as if the cores was boiling. Soon, the bubbles fromed a pitch black human face against the former translucent outline giving it more and more substance.

I threw up some of my food again. Why did I always eat before soul magic? But the stench of the nuncipal had so dulled my sense of smell that I had just to gargle to get rid of the bitter aftertaste and be done with it. And I was in good company, quite some bystanders had vomited too, and another five inquisitors and clerics had fainted. Together with the soul unscarring victims, more than half of the room looked sick.

As if on command, there was a final flash of lightning just across the window and thunder roared that my chains rattled.

But Tarik just stood there and watched with scientific curiosity. The head on the table was now covered in a wild mixture of hair and on the back feathers, no visible ears though. And human breasts began to form on the chest, with similar black skin. Small perky ones, although no so small considering the size of the body. Tarik also pulled two fingers out of his middle wing joints, following an almost invisibly faint outline. But otherwise, he did not change the crow creature, as far as I could tell. He made a few more checks, then sighed, unfroze the creature and leaned back on the table.

A chair was brought to him and he almost fell onto it. A ray of the evening sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the strange creature on the table, mostly crow, human only for the front of the head and chest. Though there were even feathers between her breasts. The size of her body and face gave the impression of an adolescent crow girl, not a woman.

She opened her eyes and raised her head. Her eyes were small, crow's eyes, completely light blue with a round black pupil. She blinked several times and then croaked more than she spoke. "Please, talking to her!" I shouted in Kren to my cleric mindspeaker, remembering well how it felt when I came into the world in my strange body.

The nuncipal had heard me, for the whole room was silent, and ordered the cleric to the crow girl. He trembled and hesitantly touched a huge claw. The girl almost immediately jerked and then relaxed. Her croaking soon turned into speech, not much different from that of my captors, so she probably croaked Loma. Then Tarik had been right, she was from here. Good for her, at least she could communicate.

Two inquisitors came to the table and straightened her up. She was now speaking directly to the cleric. But she never nodded. Instead, she turned her head left and right a lot the entire time, bird style.

Tarik stood up and came to her table, leaning on his hands, still so exhausted. Even though, she was standing on the table, her head was no higher than Tarik's. The inquisitors let her go and retreated a little. The crow girl stood swaying on her thin bird legs, her talon ripping the black table cover.

Tarik spoke to her softly, and the blue cleric probably did his part with mindspeak. She showed little distress and was probably still under some kind of shock. Or sorting out her inner voices.

Tarik helped her to unfold her wings. She stretched them out. They were spanning more than half the room. She also wiggled her two human fingers on Tarik's request and folded the wings back again. Next, she walked a few steps with her wings slightly open. She answered a few questions from Tarik and the cleric.

Then she laughed, a rough, almost croaking laugh which shocked the room. She opened her wings again, jumped and glided away from the table and might have crashed into the wall were it not for the clerics and inquisitors she almost immediately hit with the large wings. She quickly folded them and shouted something in Loma. And did again her croaking laughter while she left a large bird dropping. Unfazed, she turned her head fully around and shouted something to the table.

The nuncipal stood up, walked over to the crow girl and put his bony hand on her head, ruffling her hair and backhead feathers. He looked very pleased, said a few words and left, taking everyone with him.