Unable to lie or think of a better evasion, I went for a true, though uninformative statement.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  The displeasure and concern on Cecilia and Faith’s faces respectively told me that wasn’t going to be accepted. Oh well, it had been a bit too hopeful that they wouldn’t press, but it had been nothing but hope.

  “In public, like this,” I quickly clarified as if that had been what I was planning on saying the entire time.

  Faith looked openly skeptical about my sincerity, but didn’t argue. She looked to Cecila who shrugged and asked. “Back to the Estate then? For some privacy?”

  I nodded, unwilling to disagree but uncertain about what would happen when we returned to the estate. Unsurprisingly, Rin was against telling them anything.

  “Whether or not they have ill intentions for us, as the number of people who know what we are increases, the likelihood that someone who does have ill-intentions rises as well.”

  “We can’t lie,” I thought at her. “Faith has already demonstrated she’s able to catch us.”

  Rin sighed and I could tell she was restraining herself from critiquing my inability to lie. It almost felt sweet.

  “Thank you,” I thought.

  She brushed past it, “Then we need a story, one that fits with what we’ve said but also explains them.”

  “The truth would handle that,” I thought as we moved out of the mercantile section of town.

  “Revealing yourself to be a liar earns you some trust, but at the cost of confirming for all time that you are a liar,” she quoted

  “And once you are known to be a liar, whenever you’re proven wrong, it will be assumed that you lied,” I finished, “Kimiko Nine-Tails, better known as Kimiko Blackhearted.”

  “Glad to know that she is also known here.”

  I scoffed. Kimiko of the noble house Nakajima was remembered, but only as a cautionary tale about the perils of oaths and vengeance. There were many doubts by the Elders whether or not she actually had nine-tails, given her noted penchant for death and destructive magics and different that was from the traditional kitsune abilities. I paused as a thought occurred to me. Traditional?

  “Kumiho?” I asked.

  “One of the most famous,” Rin confirmed.

  Explained the disparaging of her name. Certainly in keeping with everything I had heard from Rin and hadn’t heard from my elders. Still, thoughts for another time. I didn’t agree with her assessment, but didn’t want to dismiss it outright. Thankfully, there was a traditional way to settle this among the People.

  “A hole in your kimono is best patched when the first stitch loosens,” I quoted at her, implicitly inviting her to an arasou na kyougi. While it could be called a game, it was more accurate to think of it as a way to resolve disputes by leaning on the wisdom of our ancestors.

  “Ayumi the Weaver,” she replied, before humming and accepting my challenge. “A tattered kimono is only noticed when directly looked at.”

  “Kenzo the Tactician,” I said, before responding. “No deception lasts ten-thousand years.”

  “Akari Nine-Tails,” she said. “But your quote is incomplete. ‘But rarely do they need to.’”

  Ah, she had fallen for my trap. I smiled wide, even though she couldn’t see it and quoted, “Once the deception is revealed, you have either succeeded or lost. There is no attempt to salvage.”

  There was a pause and then the sigh of defeat when she realized she didn’t have a response. Which was understandable since I wouldn’t have been able to think of a response either. “Salazar the Cautious,” she attributed dejectedly. “Fine, tell them. But when this goes awry, I expect you to listen the next time I advise.”

  “Of course,” I pleasantly, and slightly nervously, agreed.

  *************************************************************************************************************

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  Once the three of us were secure in my room, I locked the door. Cecilia and Faith both raised eyebrows, but didn’t say anything, waiting for me to talk. Oh, Spiders, this was going to be difficult. Carefully, I stepped out of my boots and looked at the two of them.

  “You could always go with the story about how you slept with the quartermaster once and regretted it since.”

  I gave her comment exactly one moment of consideration. Setting aside the fact that I found the idea of having sex with someone whose name I didn’t actually know was revulsive on many levels, I had already committed to telling the truth. Despite Rin’s many suggestions otherwise. I had won the contest, but Rin hadn’t let that stop her from continuing to offer alternatives. Against the spirit of the challenge, but not strictly against the rules. She was a bit of a poor loser it would seem.

  An amused smile threatened to bloom on my face at that thought before I remembered who I was in the room with. With a heavy exhale, I pushed Rin’s offers and my doubts aside. I had chosen a path and I was going to stick to it. Slowly, my ears unfurled, my tails untucked, the fangs descended, and my feet raised into their natural digitigrade and furred selves. Careful not to catch the skirt with my sharpened nails, I smoothed the fabric and adjusted it so that the tails went through the hidden slit without being twisted and constrained. Then, transformed and without any other methods of distraction, I looked to Faith and Cecilia.

  Thankfully, there wasn’t anger in their faces or disgust. Just confusion. That was a relief at least.

  “Forgive me,” Faith eventually said, “But I don’t understand.”

  I blinked a few times in surprise while Cecilia sighed. I shared a look with Cecilia, letting my uncertainty show hoping she knew how to move forward gracefully.

  “She’s a Morphkin,” Cecilia said with rocking hands. “Powerful sorcerers, historically some of the most powerful in the world.”

  There was a barely suppressed snort of laughter out of Faith at that, which caused wide-eyed looks from Cecilia and me. They paused and looked embarrassed for a moment before glancing away.

  “My apologies,” they eventually said. “The Spoken Word, our holy text, discusses how the Steel Father was a mighty sorcerer before he ascended to Godhood and how he traveled with at least three other notable mages, one of whom was at least a decent enough sorcerer to become a deific servant.”

  Cecilia openly rolled her eyes, dismissive scorn in her voice. “Congratulations, your deity is impressive. No one is arguing his power. But the point is that he was an exception, not the rule amongst your people. In measures of quantities, for every one notable sorcerer an Android or Living Guardian produces, the Morphkin produce, conservatively, fifteen.”

  “Ah,” Faith tried to interject, but Cecilia plowed over them undaunted.

  “And, furthermore, the Steel Father isn’t here, cause if he was they wouldn’t need Starborn. Hence, he doesn’t qualify for the best in the world. And even if he did, that doesn’t discount the fact that if he was on the world, with his compatriots, seven of the top ten most powerful sorcerers would likely be Morphkin.”

  I wasn’t sure what was more impressive, the amount of disdain and vitriol Cecilia had despite her otherwise patient demeanor or that Faith looked incredibly nonchalant about the entire tirade.

  “I don’t understand, '' they said dismissively after a moment, “What the greatest in the world matters when the Steel Father was the greatest of all time. He ascended and as far as I know, no Morphkin has come close to that.”

  “Because even the most selfish and vain Merfolk understands that they are already divine and need not become something as narrow as a God to express it.”

  Thank you soooooo much for your valuable input, Rin.

  Cecilia scoffed, but before she could launch into another verbal attack, I stepped in. “We’re getting a bit afield here. And given that I’m not the greatest sorcerer of all time or in the world, I feel the discussion is unnecessary.”

  “Defending the honor of my God is always necessary,” Faith countered, but didn’t press the point. I turned to my attention to Cecilia. She rolled her eyes and shrugged, but didn’t attempt to continue the argument either. There was a pause where we all took a moment to collect ourselves and breathe. Tension dissipated and after an appropriate pause Cecilia spoke up again.

  “So, you’re a Morphkin mage. And you’ve been hiding that while you’ve been in Freeport. I can make some guesses of how those three facts go together, but I’d rather not make assumptions. Perhaps, so there’s no confusion later, you tell us the whole story.”

  Faith nodded in agreement and took a seat. “Yes, please. It would be very helpful.”

  Skeptical given their earlier condescension, I took a breath and then told my story.

  Not the entirety of my life, that would have been pedantic. But from the events that had led to my death through the present day. It hadn’t been my plan, I had only meant to tell them about the Darkways. But, out of either worry or frustration, I started with bartering for a necklace and kept going, like a dam inside of me had been cut loose and the water of my story ruptured forth.

  I told them everything. From my lessons and instruction with Thuvvik, to my troubles with the Gold Elves and the evening at the Crusted Cauldron, of … Eninald. Of my walk with Gherardi and my voyage through the Darkways. I told them everything, because someone needed to hear it. Or maybe because I needed to say it. And I told them because they they sat. They listened. They were angry at things that infuriated me and comforting at the parts that hurt. They didn’t judge me when I cried and they didn’t call me a monster when it was done.

  Cecilia just opened her arms in a silent offer of a hug and held me while I sobbed, whispering in my ear that it was okay. Faith had made a similar offer, but I chose Cecilia in that moment and I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe it was her defense before my story or maybe it was because she understood siblings. Or maybe she was just closer.

  I don’t know. I’m sure Faith did something to help, but I don’t remember what it was. I also don’t remember falling asleep.

  But when I awoke the next morning I was most rested I had been since I left home.