Robbi found great comfort visiting with Dema each day during her stay. She had not realized how much she missed the old toad during her life in Wiccinas. Each day found her in the healer's quarters drinking tea and playing chess.

Dema's quarters were windowless and dark, but in a comforting rather than dreary way. Large soft cushions lay around the room with a pile in front of the large stone fireplace which served as the center-point of the room. Robbi noted that the fire always seemed to be blazing and the log bin full. Dema informed her friend that Chumley had seen to it while serving as governor that her wood store was replenished each morning, an order which continued when Deerdor took over the post.

The two friends had just finished a game of chess, which Dema, as usual, had won. Robbi moved to the pile of soft pillows by the hearth and stared into the dancing flames. She found herself thinking of Arisha. Sadness filled her heart and she expressed her sorrow to Dema.

"It just tears my soul knowing Arisha is laying there under the open sky, unable to move, staring into space. She has no idea what poison was used. She may be doomed to immobility till she dies. It's just not right, Dema! She is the spirit of this land, our mother...if only we could do something."

Dema was sitting at her desk, surrounded by open books and scrolls. She slurped her tea and took a bite out of a crumpet. Scratching her chin, she turned toward the small magus.
"I wouldn't give up on her quite yet, child," she said gently.

Robbi's ears perked up.
"Do you know something, Dema? Can we save her?" she asked anxiously.

Dema slapped her paw down on the largest of the tomes in front of her.
"I can't say for sure child, but our answer may be in this book. It was from Khalis' private library, one of a kind. I thought of it a few days ago when you told me the whole sad story of our spider. It seemed strange that a poison would affect her...I'm of course aware she can be killed, but she is vulnerable to injury, trauma...swords and such...not potions or spells...yet there she is...poisoned. I felt it had to be an extraordinary poison to affect her.

"That's where this book comes in. It is in essence an evil book...a book of death and murder. It has many authors, each adding his or her knowledge. The book was begun before Thoth was a city, before the Minge, before the modern world."

"What is it?" Robbi asked, her curiosity piqued.

"It is a book of poisons. There are thousands of recipes for all types of poisons...slow, fast, and instant...most to kill and some to cripple. I shudder to think how Khalis used it."

"How can it help us beyond possibly identifying the potion?" Robbi asked. She got up from the fireplace and walked over to the desk.

"The rulers who commissioned this work had more concerns than killing their enemies," Dema said breaking into a sly smile, "they were equally concerned about not being poisoned themselves, so the vast majority of the recipes include the formulas for an antidote."

Robbi became suddenly very excited.
"So we might be able to cure Arisha?"

"Maybe," the old toad began carefully, "we need to determine the poison. We know quite a bit about it...it is absorbed through the skin...Arisha said the potion was sky-blue...that it had the consistency of thick oil...that it reeked of rotten meat and orchids. I will go through this book, word by word, till I find something similar. If I do find it...well, then we've got a starting point."

Robbi gave the toad a tight hug.
"If anyone can do it, you can Dema. Thank you so, so much."

"I can't make any promises, I can only try."

"That's all any of us can do, dear Dema, Vattus tells me all the time that the road to success at anything has only one common factor...it begins with trying."

"Smart old codger," Dema smiled.

Squeeker Fishpaw and his brother Squawker were unlikely mercenaries. The two ferrets had spent their lives in the squalid confines of Port Saud supporting themselves as petty thieves and con artists preying on drunks and indigents. They plied their trade in the dark of the night, avoiding any creature they suspected would put up any kind of a fight.

The brothers had spent their entire lives together, doing little more than surviving. When they were approached by the Deev to fill out the crew of  the Windspirit, their first instinct was to refuse, it sounded suspicious and dangerous, but the gold coins they were handed efficiently changed their mind.

Though land-beasts, with very little sea-going experience, the promise of wealth proved too great an enticement. They knew of the Deev, of course, from childhood stories and tales of horror which were commonly used to keep children behaving, but the Fishpaw brothers lacked imagination to the same degree that they lacked a sense of purpose and never really considered the possibility that their lives would be in jeopardy.

Squeeker, the smaller of the pair, considered himself the brains of the family, which though true, was not a great accomplishment. Squawker was twice the size of his older brother with about half the intellect. He always listened to his brother, deferring all important decisions to his sibling. He treated his brother the way he would his father, had he known his father as more than a fairy-tale he clung to in his mind.

The brothers had agreed it was high time to leave the backwater of Port Saud, get their paws on some money and move to a more profitable site like Seth-e-Raman or Helios to the south. This job, they thought, was a godsend. They would be safe, for who would cross swords with the Deev and it paid extraordinarily well. If it meant overcoming sea-sickness, so be it. If it appeared that the job was becoming overly hazardous, they had decided to jump ship and run away without looking back.

Squeeker's most prized possession was a small knife with a simple leather-wrapped handle. He had stolen it from a drunken mole who had passed out in the street after a night of excessive celebration. Its glowing white stone blade was unmistakably a chip off the Abitar and Squeeker was delighted at owning such a rare artifact. Not only was the blade valuable, but useful and effective as well, being able to cut through almost any material.

He was using the blade on board the Windspirit, in preparation for departure when Prince Vasheron approached him and watched silently as the ferret sliced effortlessly through lengths of rope and even several pieces of twisted wire. Squeeker noticed him and made a point not to look up. He was terrified of the Deev and wanted nothing more than to be ignored. The ferret had learned from experience that anonymity was often the key to survival when dealing with dangerous beasts.

He kept working silently while the mink stared intently over his shoulder. Suddenly Vasheron reached out and placed his paw on the ferret's back. Squeeker let out a startled high-pitched grunt and turned nervously. The Minge leader looked down at him curiously and asked.
"Is that an Abitar blade? How did you come by it, sailor?"

"I bought it from a mole what was down on his luck," the ferret lied, worrying now that the Deev would take it from him.

"It seems a fine blade," Vasheron said intently, "is it a good tool?"

Squeeker thought about lying, but he could see by the look in the Deev's eyes that he was not a creature to be lied too. He began to resign himself to losing his prize possession. He answered honestly.
"It's a wonder sire. It'll cut through anything. The moles uses them to cut the Golden Spider's web for usin' in their steel. It's the only stuff what can do it."

Vasheron's eye's grew wide and he remained silent in thought, then he muttered.
"The only thing that will cut through Arisha's web."

Squeeker didn't know if the Deev was speaking to him or to himself. He thought it best to respond.
"Yes, sire, that's right."

To Squeeker's surprise and delight, Vasheron merely nodded and left the ferret to his work without taking the blade or asking the ferret's name. He exhaled in relief and quickly headed below decks to the crews quarters to tell his brother of the encounter and to hide from the Deev commander.

Vasheron headed to the captain's cabin in a mixture of anger and excitement. He entered his quarters to find Captain Mobus standing watch over the crate containing the Abitar. The Deev leader wordlessly walked past his subordinate and pried the lid off the wooden box. Mobus watched without speaking.

Vasheron leaned into the box and probed the crystal nest for several minutes. He finally grunted in satisfaction and stood, holding a long thin sliver of the Abitar which had been wedged between the undamaged crystals. He turned to Mobus displaying the sliver to his disfigured captain.
"I am a fool! If I had had this, she would be dead now."

"Who, Prince?" Mobus asked.

"Arisha, of course! This simple piece of stone could have freed her from her protective cocoon to be dismembered by me. I only wish I'd known," the mink said shaking his head.

"She is neutralized, paralyzed for all time," Mobus pointed out.

"I wanted that demon dead! She is our judge and jailor! When our business with the albino is complete, I will return to finish the task. I will revel in removing her head." He slipped the Abitar fragment into his cloak and walked to his desk, sitting down and propping up his feet, "It all comes together, Mobus, destiny guides us. First we regain our immortality, then I eliminate the accursed spider. We will hunt down the remaining wizards and take the kingdoms of our choosing."

"And Azmeritus?" Mobus asked

"Let him play his own games. We will go along for now. He has too many beasts in his control right now to face openly, but there is no telling what type of horrid accident he might encounter while walking the ramparts or the cliffs. That is in the future though, we will be smart and careful around the Brotherhood, there is no rush. If there is anything the Deev have an abundance of, it is time. All our enemies will rue the day they crossed us. We have memories as long as our lives and all insults will be repaid."

Above decks, the crew made ready to sail. Lines were cast and sails unfurled and set. Squeeker and Squawker, not being sea-beasts of any experience, were relinquished to menial tasks and spent the debarkation coiling ropes and turning winches at the command of one of the Deev warriors.

The crew of the Windspirit was comprised of seventeen Minge and twenty mercenaries and everyone not of command rank worked vigorously to guide the ship into the open sea. When the port was far behind them and the sails billowed hungrily eating the wind, the daily routine of a mariners life took hold. Some beasts hung over the side applying tar to cracks or scrapping barnacles from the waterline, others sat on the deck planks, thick needles in paw, mending canvas.

Squeeker and Squawker found themselves performing one of the more tiresome chores. They kneeled on the hard wooden decks, side by side, scouring the length of deck with paw-sized stones. The brothers chatted dourly, already feeling the approaching nausea so common among beasts not accustomed to the swaying and rocking motions of the sea.

"I'm gonna be sick," Squawker complained.

"Well make sure you get to the rail if'n you heave. I ain't in the mood to clean your lunch of these here planks," Squeeker said holding back a wretch of his own, "plus I'll probably be joinin' ya. I was talkin' to one of those sea-beasts, Noga by name, and he told me we'd feel better in a coupla days."

"A coupla days? I think we made a mistake in comin', I don't know if I can last more'n a coupla hours," Squawker moaned. His brother slapped the big ferret's head.

"Well, we ain't got much choice, have we? Unless of course you plan on jumpin' into the sea ta end your misery. We just got to buck up till we feels better. Just think of the gold we're gonna get. We kin buy us a pub when we get back...make our own drunks to roll, maybe even sell 'em to ships ta fill out their crews...I hear there's good money in that."

Squawker shook his head.
"We could try makin' an honest livin' instead. I don't care much for beatin' up drunks. If the pub does good business, ya think we could try bein' honest beasts?"

Squeeker looked into his brother's eyes. He could see a deep shame behind the sea-sickness. As the brains of the family, the scams and schemes had always been his, with Squawker always doing as he was told. It had never occurred to him that his brother wanted an honest hard-working life. He was going to admonish his brother's idea, but thought better of it.

"We'll see, Squawk, we'll see." He changed the subject, "So what's do you think of these Deev? Scary, ain't they? Have ya seen 'em turnin' to smoke?"

"Yeah, they does it all the time. I reckon they must be practicin' or something...so's they don't forget how, I guess."

"What about that Mobus cove. He looks like he been boiled in oil. I wonder what happened to him?"

Squawker perked up.
"I heard them minks talkin' amongst themselves and they said something about him bein' burned by a big rock."

"Musta been real hot to leave him lookin' like a fried raisin," Squeeker chuckled, "guess he didn't turn to smoke quick enough. Maybe that's why they're all practicin'."

"Could be, but...," suddenly Squawker's eyes clouded and he clutched his stomach. He stood quickly and rushed to the rail. He retched loudly, over and over again. Squeeker stood to chastise him, but soon found himself at his brother's side, miserably spewing his breakfast into the bounding main.