As soon as they reached the room they shared, Ummor and Quatan practically collapsed. Quatan had over-used his magic, with a spell it was not really meant for, and was trailing blood with each step, and Ummor was shaking with the reaction of talking down a pair of demons in front of their master. They curled up together, Ummor deftly avoiding the balefire this time, on Quatan's bedding and she set about closing up the hasty cut he'd had to make for the second spell with tiny shadows made solid.

"What did you do?" she asked him.

::Made them... listen,:: Quatan managed wearily. ::That's all.::

"Made them not attack, more like," Ummor clucked at him.

He shook one head. ::No. Just listen. ... open mind.:: He patted her foreleg with his good paw. Used to his silent communications, Ummor looked away, embarrassed that he thought she had been the one to make them not attack.

"It wasn't anything special," she murmured. "I wasn't even all that persuasive."

::You tried,:: he answered simply.

"Well, it was just that they're too smart to try and attack a Balespawn," Ummor huffed. "I hope they decide to stay. They would be good additions. Demons!"

Quatan had exhausted his supply of words, and Ummor didn't know what else she might say, so they fell silent again as she finished up with his paw and fell to gentle preening to get the worst of the blood off. Quatan submitted meekly, and was actually dozing off by the time she'd finished. He really had worn himself out, with two spells in quick succession like that-- and one a portal spell into some infernal realm! Magics that weren't strengthening or harming were hard to manage with the power he'd inherited, but he'd done it. It was obvious that he was going to be powerful, in magic and in body despite his small size, even if he was only an adolescent right now. Ummor was proud of him.

And she... she had an idea of what she might do when she was not tending to the nest. The household. Her master's following.

She could be adding to it. Master Balechild needed support, no matter what he wanted to do in the end, whether on Star City, or some other world. A silent bodyguard, a riddling informant, a pair of touchy and volitile soldiers, and a den-mother-- for Petunia, Illiot, and Jetan'Betina really didn't count as support except in the financial sense-- were not enough to take over and keep hold of a village, much less a city as huge as this one. But if Ummor could find, and talk around, trick, or blackmail into service, others who could be brought into Master Balechild's fold, perhaps he could help bring his plans about, even if she, herself, couldn't carry any of them out.

Perhaps if she educated herself, if she read up, if she focused her intellect and dilligence... perhaps she could be persuasive. She knew she hadn't spoken very well this time-- she hadn't been prepared at all, had only stammered out the first things that came to mind-- but maybe, with time and knowledge and even practice, she could do better.

She wanted to do better. It was a way she could prove to Master Balechild that she was useful, and both she and her brother would be rewarded instead of merely tolerated. Ummor was not greedy, nor was she particularly proud, but she was not stupid and she preferred rewards to what she knew awaited those who failed or burdened the Balespawn. And if she did help him achieve his plans, the whole household would be rewarded in whatever new power he set up.

And it was a purpose, a goal, something she could focus on rather than merely drifting. The goal she'd had before, the purpose she already knew-- to nurture the cruel ones she lived with, to keep the household safe and happy within itself as much as it could be safe and happy at all-- wasn't one she could implement or really work towards. This, however... this was.

And she did. After the issue of the demons had been resolved-- they stayed and deigned to work "with" Master Balechild, as long as they at least had the illusion of freedom; Ummor suspected a little manipulation on her master's part, or perhaps Quatan's-- and things went back to normal, Ummor had a new passion. She hunted out the speeches every motivational speaker she could find and downloaded them to her own private computer for perusal at her leasure. She had Terebinth direct her to biographies of highly persuasive leaders-- or, even better, their speechwriters and mouthpieces-- and tracked down books on how to convince others of your opinion. It was slow going, but after a couple months she felt ready for her first attempt.

She just needed to find something to attempt on. Something worth adding to her master's household. There had to be something out there-- something that would consent to having a master, or even just an employer, and which wouldn't or couldn't overpower the Balespawn, but which would be useful. And she had no idea where to start. If she just started preaching in the streets, well... she'd probably wind up cooling her heels in the station's brig, or medicated in the sanatorium. And just walking up to individuals was stupid-- it would take a lot of time to get individuals to trust her enough to actually listen to her, unless she knew enough about them ahead of time to know exactly what to say. At this point, she simply wasn't good enough for that, if she ever would be.

So who could she practice on?

It was Terebinth who, in the end, pointed her in the right direction with the rather uncryptic rhyme, "The older the mind, the tighter the bind; the younger the soul, the firmer control."

In other words: start young. Coupled with the knowledge of how she had been recruited, that was more than enough for Ummor to go on. She just needed to find a clutch that showed promise.

And once she started looking, that all but jumped out at her. With a cruel and somewhat dangerous father, and a creature called a nightmourner for a mother, the clutch she found seemed about perfect. The children were even live-born, and so easily conversed with-- or spoken to.

Quatan insisted on coming with her, for protection-- well, he didn't actually insist, he just went with and refused to turn back when she told him to. Finally giving up-- and secretly pleased to have her brother with her, and for more than just wanting to show him off as a token of what the half-nightmourners would be working for and with-- Ummor just let him follow along after her.

Reaching the bay where the children were being kept during the times they could speak with potential sponsors, Ummor gave herself a quick grooming, clicked a beak lightly at her brother, and then strode inside confidently. She let the children come to her, and after introductions were made and small talk engaged in, she smiled warmly at them all-- or as warmly as her beak could manage-- and began, "Let me tell you about my master."

Chapter Twenty-Four

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