Chapter 6

The hills that spread between Nex-Ho and the Wildfree Forest were tall enough that, by the time they had jogged to the top of them, Ember was puffing and panting. Goat Who Wrestles, his sagacious mentor and the tutor of the Vengeful Crystal Hawk Style, was sitting on a platform that rested atop Ember’s head like the world’s largest, least comfortable hat. Ember, who knew that he could leap half a league in a bound and tear houses out of their foundations, knew that he could have carried Goat without sweating – and his two Lunar Wives, June Devilborn, and maybe more. But doing so would have made his anima flare as the energies of the Unconquered coursed through his dragon-lines.

And Goat had, at the beginning of the hike, said: “Whatever you do, Sunboy, do not flare your anima.”

“Oh? Is this is a martial arts training thing? Like, control your anima, control your spirit! Control your spirit ... whoaaaah!” Ember had kicked at the air so aggressively that a concussive wave of compressed air had snapped out from his foot and smashed into a dumpster that was left by the wall of Nex-Ho, sheering it in half. “Oh, uh, oopse, uh-”

Goat had snorted, then hauled out his palanquin hat, then jammed it onto Ember’s head, and said: “No. We just don’t want the Fae to know you’re the Unconquered.”

“Will they be upset?” Ember asked.

“Oh, no, they’ll be delighted,” Goat had said. “You’ll be the one who won’t enjoy being devoured by the greedy mouths of ten million million fae for the next two centuries.”

And so, Ember’s neck and shoulders felt like one big knot of tension and sweat beaded on his forehead and his shoulders and dripped from his fingers. His whole chest, in fact, was glistening like he had been oiled. He wanted to bend his head forward, to try and catch his breath. But doing so felt like it might snap his neck right off, considering the weight balanced on his scalp. Goat, who was smoking from his pipe, blew out a small dragon of smoke, which winged into the sky before finding a cloud to lay upon and take a nap.

“I’m honestly moderately impressed!” Goat said, puffing again.

“Really?” Ember asked.

Goat blew out the smoke cloud of a small, three breasted woman, which floated in the air before dispersing. “No, most Unconquered would have been able to handle this with ease, even without flaring their anima. At least, from the stories.” He chuckled. “Lets hope they were all exaggerations, or else you get to be the worst Unconquered, eh?” He clapped his hands. “Mush!”

Ember groaned and started down the hills towards the Wildfree Forest – which looked a great deal like the Wildfree Forest that had spread to the north and east of Rataka Village. Ember almost went cross-eyed trying to remember the map of the Land while also avoiding skipping in mud, tripping on rocks, or running into stunted trees that had managed to grow into the hillside. He sprang over a small creek and landed with a grunt, the palanquin hat rocking on his head. “Question!” he gasped out. “Wild ... free? But ... Rat-” he gasped. “Taka!”

“Every Wildfree Forest is Wildfree Forest,” Goat said, tapping at his pipe, then breathing out a ram that ran through the air. “The same way that all pure ocean is Pure Ocean – they’re a metaphysical concept intruding into our world, a middle ground between raw chaos and the ordered reality of the Sun, the Moon, and the Gods.” He chuckled. “Watch your wits.”

“I’d be able ... to watch my wits ... if Chirp ... and Xora ... could come ... and ... help!”

Goat snorted. “Yes, I’m quite certain that your Lunar Wife and your Lunar Saris...” Goat’s voice grew more gentle on the second word and Ember felt a teeny bit less like stabbing him in the junk. Goat respected Chirp. Now, if only he’d respect Ember, they’d be good. “ ... are going to let their Unconquered Husband head into the Wildfree Forest, court the Queen of the Fae and screw her brains out so hard that she’ll give us free passage through the deep chaos, without following.”

Ember slowed as he came to the bottom of the hill and the foreboding wall of the Forest. Trees spread out to either side – thick and heavy with leaves, with bark of near midnight black. The space between the trees was shadowed, making the lances of light from the sun overhead seem all the brighter. He could taste an otherworldly spice on the air, and his tongue tingled in his mouth, as if he was already chewing on the forbidden fruits of the fae. He shook his head – and Goat yelped, his pipe clattering over the edge of the palanquin hat and to Ember’s feet.

“Hey!” Goat snapped. “I only have six hundred of those left.”

“How do those all fit in your loincloth!?” Ember asked.

“As if I put my soulgem on my forehead where anyone could see it,” Goat said.

Ember, who hadn’t even thought to look for Goat’s soulgem – as no one in Rataka had had one until he had been incarnated as the Unconquered – opened his mouth. Closed it. “Right.” he said. Note to self, he thought. Never ever ever see Goat naked. Also, investigate your inventory!

He knew that he had at least one possession of the Third Unconquered in his soulgem. Maybe he’d have something from Good King Bahul in there? Or something from the First Unconquered? Or the Fifth! Or ... any of them! But then Goat’s foot clomped against his hat – rattling the whole structure. “Forward!” He said. Ember wanted to glance back over his shoulder, to see if he could see Chirp and Xora. But instead, he started forward, walked between two trees, and stopped short – the hat catching on both trees and tugging off his head. He had a second of horrified shock at the sudden lack of a weight on his neck – and then-

Crash!

Ember slowly turned around and saw Goat sprawled in the wreckage of the hat, his legs canted wide, his palms spreading on the ground behind him. His beard had a huge splinter stuck through a large tuft of it, and his bald pate gleamed in the sunlight that beat down on him from overhead.

Goat spat his pipe out and stood. He picked the wooden splinter from his beard and flicked it away.

Ember tried to say ‘sorry’ and ‘oopse’ at the same time, but the words choked in his throat like two rickshaws slamming into one another in a busy street and all that came out was a strangled ‘sopse!’ but before he could get a real word out, Goat smirked at him. “I was wondering how long it’d take, my student.” He walked past Ember.

“Yes!” Ember said, loudly. “I meant to do that.”

Goat stopped, turned to face him, then reached out, grabbed Ember by the ear, and dragged him into the Wildfree Woods.

As the two of them vanished, Chirp and Xora peeked up and out of a pair of bushes. Xora glowed faintly with a pale, silver aura – paradoxically making her rather easy to see ... if you could spot her in the preternaturally perfect hiding spot she had chosen, guided by the essence of the Moons, which coursed through her veins the same way that the power of the Sun flowed through Ember. She cracked her knuckles so loudly that Chirp ducked for cover, before emerging back out of the brushes, blushing furiously.

“I’m seriously considering...” Xora paused. “Um...”

Chirp blushed. “Kicking Goat’s butt?” they suggested.

“W-Well, I mean, I don’t want to kick anyone’s butt,” Xora whispered, her head ducking forward slightly.

“Oh!” Chirp said, their ears perking up slightly as they bared their fangs. “You hold him, I kick his ... you know ... man bits.”

“The dick?” Xora asked.

Chirp blushed. “I was trying to be, um, a bit more circumspect.”

“He’ll be circumspect once I’m done with him,” Xora said, frowning. “That’s what folks from the Desert of Glass do, I hear.”

“ ... what?” Chirp whispered.

“They take some glass and-” Xora held up a finger, then mimed sawing the tip off.

Chirp gaped, her ears pinning back. “Really?”

“Not the whole tip!” Xora said, hurriedly. “Just ... the skin part.”

Chirp gaped even harder. “Why?!”

“Their god gives them superhuman strength for doing it,” Xora said. “They can fly. And shoot mana blasts out of their eyes.”

“Oh,” Chirp said, blinking. “Okay, that makes sense.”

The two of them realized that Goat and Ember were now distant shadows in the dimness of the forest. Chirp nodded. “Okay,” they said. “Lets use our animal forms to track them.” They flashed with silver light, becoming a small, fuzzy, flat nosed bat with even more pronounced fangs than they normally had. They flapped around – and Xora blushed, rubbing her hand along the curved fin that sprouted from the back of her neck. Chirp squeaked, in the tongue of the bats: “Oh! Right!” They flashed back to their humanoid form. “Lets just sneak.”

“Yeah!” Xora’s body glowed silver as she channeled mana into her – and despite being nearly six feet tall and clad in heavy muscle, managed to creep through the woods without making a noise, nor disturbing a brush. Chirp followed after, their body swiftly being almost impossible to see in the deep, brooding darkness that dominated between the trees.

Together, they followed – towards the heart of the Wildfree Forest.

“And then the Bonies came around the hill,” Goat said. “And the only person standing between them and the village was me and Junie. So, I looked at her, and she said ... they won’t eat me if they’re busy eating you. And then she started to run. Now, normally, most people would take that as a good reason to get upset. But you see, they don’t call em Bonies because they’re covered in bones.”

“Wait, they’re not covered in bones?” Ember asked, trying to keep up with his sifu in both the physical environment of the Forest – which had grown thicker and wilder with every step – but also the space of his seemingly endless panoply of war stories.

“Oh, no, they are,” Goat said.

That was when the young person stepped out from around the tree. They were the same height as Ember and looked somewhere between male and female – they had the facial features of a woman, but the short, well tended beard of a man. The fact that their skin was a crystal blue and their hair was sea green wasn’t actually a definite indicator that they were a Fair Folk – as there were humans with blue skin and green hair all over the place. It was something subtler. Something that was almost indefinable – ineffable. It was in tiny movements, in graceful cant of the head, in the liquidity in the eyes, in the alien emotion that flitted through them.

Ember knew that this person was a fae, from their head to their toes.

“Greetings!” the fae said, bowing almost in half, flipping one hand wide. “I am the Greeter. You are almost at the Goblin Market – might I ask your name?” They stood, smiling at Ember, who smiled back.

“I’m Ember,” he said, holding out his hands.

“May I have your pronouns?” Greeter asked, taking Ember’s hand.

“Uh, sure,” Ember said as Goat choked on his pipe. “He him?”

“Thanks!” Greeter said, smiling broadly as he stepped back and away, then turned and sprinted into the darkness.

Ember blinked. [] reached down to scratch the back of []’s neck. Then [] yelped. “What the fuck!?”

Goat held his pipe in one hand, the tip caught between two of his fingers. He reached out and bopped Ember on []’s head. The pipe felt shockingly solid and weighty – Ember winced and clapped []’s hands on []’s head. [] scowled at Goat. “Dude!”

“Yes, I am,” Goat said, his eyes flicking down.

Ember looked down at []self and blinked slowly as [] realized that something was missing. [] placed [] palm between [] legs and gulped slowly. “Goat. My dick is missing.”

Goat shrugged one lanky shoulder. “That’s why you shouldn’t be so lose with your lips with the fae. Have you never heard the saying: Loose lips get you fucking fucked, you fucking idiot, never give the fae anything, you absolute cretin, gods help us all that you’re the Unconquered this cycle.”

Ember glared at him. “That’s the saying, huh?”

“The whole saying, exactly,” Goat said, puffing on his pipe. “It’s weirdly exact for such a widespread saying, buuuut-”

Ember threw up []’s hands and put them over []’s face. “Great. I have two lunar mates, and I’ve managed to completely ruin our relationship in one fell swoop.” [] groaned. A rustling sound came from the tree above [] and when Ember looked upwards, [] saw that the a large, sleek face was peering from the leaves. [] had just enough time to realize it was his wife, Xora, before she tumbled, head first out of the branch and crashed into []. Ember sprawled on [] back and groaned as Xora scrambled to get her arms underneath her and pushed herself upright.

“Sorry!” she said.

“Xora!” A bush hissed.

“Sorry!” Xora said.

“It’s okay, Chirp...” Ember groaned as [] pushed []self up. Xora walked backwards on her knees and her palms, then sat back on her thighs. She looked down at [] and Ember looked back up at her. Ember had noticed before that [] Amethyst was tall – but at the moment, [] felt completely and utterly undone. It made Xora look even taller, even more imposing. And Ember hated it. [] hated how much being dickless made [] feel weak and pathetic.

How stupid!

How stupid could [] be, pinning everything on a tiny bit of anatomy. Well, not so tiny. But still, comparatively tiny. And unimportant. [] could walk and breathe and punch. [] could still defeat evil. But at the moment, all Ember wanted to do was shrink away from Xora, who was looking at [] nervously. “Sorry for landing on you,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” Chirp asked, immediately flapping out of the brush. They landed behind Ember and shifted from their drakhul bat form to their human form, so their pale hands could slide along Ember’s chest, hugging [] tightly. “What happened?” They looked up at Goat, who had decided to sit down on a moss covered stump. Goat puffed on his pipe.

“The Unconquered has been unmanned. Literally,” he said.

“I feel really stupid right now,” Ember whispered.

“Oh? Feeling weak? Indecisive?” Goat puffed out a thin streamer of smoke which formed into a coiling snake in the air. “Don’t beat yourself up about it too badly, oh Unconquered one.” He grinned at [] and cocked his head. “See, you’re not just missing your dick.”

“Ember’s missing his ... their...” Chirp’s brow furrowed – their mouth forming words, but not the sounds. Xora was mouthing the same thing, and looked just as confused. Ember’s brow furrowed a bit.

“You haven’t just lost an organ, Ember,” Goat said. “The fae are able to consume, trade and manipulate concepts. Direct metatextual attacks upon your shinima.” He reached out, twisting his pipe about to tap Ember’s forehead – tapping right against []’s soulgem, which clacked loudly. “You’ve lost your own conception of masculinity – which is far more than just a dick.”

“Shinima...” Ember put [] hand against []’s soulgem. [] nodded. “I remember, June mentioned that. It’s like the things they make before they make houses. Blackprints?”

Chirp giggled. “Blueprints,” they whispered in his ear.

“Blueprints,” Ember said. “And ... and...”

“Soulgems can store items and possessions,” June said, her voice growing clipped and distracted as her eyes swept up and down the scroll, reading the long columns of letters. “Via shunting it into your Otherspace using a metamagical construction, shaped and controlled by imagination inputs and shinamatnic fluctuations, mostly modulated by mana expenditure.”

Ember scrambled to [] feet and focused. Golden flames flickered along []’s fingers, crackling as the soulgem set into [] forehead began to glow. A scroll came flying out of it. Ember caught it and shook [] head. “Nope!”

[] tossed aside the scroll, then the small gemstone, the jade pendent, the tiny golden wolf ring, the small stick wrapped in beaded strings. [] only paused on the papyrus sketch of the gorgeous, golden skinned woman posing naked before a massive crocodile, before tossing it away with a shake of [] head. Xora and Chirp both stood and backed away from the growing collection of stuff.

“What are you doing?” Xora asked.

“I’m looking for a-” Ember blinked as a glowing bead of pale red light shot from [] soulgem, landing in [] palm. Ember beamed down at it, then closed [] palm tight around the light. It flared between her fingers and Ember breathed a slow, shuddering sigh of relief as she closed her eyes. Then her eyes snapped opened. “What the-”

Chirp put their hand over their mouths. Xora blinked several times in rapid succession.

“Nice rack,” Goat said, grinning. “Though, uh, with that kind of frontage, you’ll need to adjust your stance a bit.”

Ember, who had been gaping at her ‘frontage’ for the entire time, realized that she was now shirtless and rocking the most impressive tits she had seen since Xora had taken off her top. She clapped her hands over her breasts and let out an almost Chirpish squeak. “Goat!” she hissed. “Nice rack?”

“Well, it is,” Goat said, puffing on his pipe.

“I’m the Unconquered, you know,” Ember hissed. “I can kick your ass.”

“Hmm, can you though?” Goat asked.

Ember flushed, closed her eyes, then forced herself to calm down. But it was hard: The emotions roiling inside of her came in such a sick, sweet, complicated brew that it was hard to isolate any one thing, to narrow anything down. She felt an intense sense of relief to be something again – but she also felt a crawling, creeping dread about being a girl. And that made Ember worry: Did he really look down on being a girl? Was it that horrible of a thing?

No.

“I just don’t wanna!” Ember wailed.

“You don’t want to get your gender back?” Goat asked, standing up. “Odd aspiration, but-”

“No, I just ... I don’t want to be a girl,” Ember said. “Not like this. I want to be me, not...”

Chirp stood and pressed up against Ember’s back. Xora hugged against her front. The two of them squeezed Ember tightly, nuzzling and kissing her – making Ember squirm and blush. Then Ember felt Chirp kiss her ear, before whispering. “Hold very still, we’re going to fix this right up.”

Using their bodies as a shield, the two Lunars worked with blinding speed, plucking leaves from the air and from the trees nearby, weaving them together, and then binding Ember’s chest up tightly. They stepped backwards and Chirp gave Ember a big thumbs up. “There we go,” they said, nodding as Ember felt the strange stifling feeling of the binding around her chest. She put her fingers against the leaf bindings, while Xora ruffled her hair.

“How does that feel, Ember?” she asked.

“Nice,” Ember said, slowly. “And ready to do this. Goat, we’re going to get my gender back.” She paused, then clenched her jaw. “And from here on out, treat me like a man. Cause I am. No matter what pronouns I’m borrowing.” He blushed, then clasped his hands together as he realized that was a little bossy for referring to his master. He bowed low and added a respetful: “Sifu.”

Goat inclined his head. “As you say, Ember,” he said, his voice actually gentle for once. Then he chomped down on his pipe again. “But we got a problem. A fae trade is permanent – you can’t just beat Greeter up until he gives your gender back. You need to get him to trade back.”

Ember frowned.

“I have an idea,” Chirp said, blushing.

The group leaned in as Chirp whispered their plan.

And slowly, they began to grin.

The Goblin Market was a profusion of chaos and delights. The high trees of the Wildfree forest grew even taller under the fairy light glow of a thousand fireflies that danced through the air above the market, like flowing rivers of light. Those seemingly infinite spires broadened out to form the front facing walls of many market stalls: Wooden bark was carved aside to create alcoves and seats for merchants, their wares laid out for all to see upon blankets of woven dreamcloth and shimmering silk. Maggot-shaped spirits of decay vomited up bile onto fine platters that went for the hefty price of a newborn’s dream, while the many colored goblins that ran the market swept up any dropped currency into the floating bellies of blimp-like tenders. Fae of both Seelie and Unseelie courts walked by in glittering procession – clad in ice and snow, flame and leaves. Their servants would sometimes dart out, to offer bottled souls to finely crafted goods, while their cataphracts shoved aside anyone who was foolish enough to stay in their way.

But it was not merely the spirits and the fae of the deep Sunder who had come to the goblin market to trade.

Red robed factors from the distant courts of the Gyognorian islands, their faces plated in solid gold to prevent a single emotion from being shown, came to stalls that sold soul-eaten slaves. Spider limbed mutants culled from the Deserts of Glass, their bodies still sprouting the foot long black shards from the storms that had mutated them, haggled with goblins over automatic crossbows and mage bombs. And there was at least one Locust Person, sitting in a bar, glaring at Ember as if Ember owed him something.

Or her something.

Ember wasn’t entirely sure what the Locust Person was, as the only reason he knew they were a Locust Person was because Goat had scowled and muttered ‘fuck, a Locust.’ The Locust was actually one of the last exotic beings in the Market: They were two armed, two legged, had a head. Their face was concealed behind a pig-like snout of rubber and metal that ended in a circular nozzle that seemed to be what they breathed through. Scratched, red lenses were set above their eyes, while a coal-miner’s helmet was strapped to their head, and a long leather trench coat hung around their shoulders. They had a pistol sized crossbow strapped to their hip and had fingers wrapped in leather. Despite the fact their mask covered their mouth completely, they were holding a glass that had been given to them by the goblin bartender. It seemed they drank it by just ... thinking at it hard enough.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Ember whispered to Goat.

“Mostly,” Goat said, shrugging one shoulder.

Ember sighed and tried to feel masculine. It was hard, though, when his body and his shinima both had a great big feminine piece jammed into it. That was, in and of itself, more frustrating the longer it went on. Partially because he was at least ninety percent certain that he’d have enjoyed trying out being a woman. But not like this. He pressed his thighs together, hated the lack of feeling he was used to, and looked back at the Locust.

The Locust was still glaring at them.

“ ... Goat, why is the Locust looking at us like we owe it something?”

“I dunno,” Goat said, then grinned.

A fae was emerging from the crowds. Ember flicked a glance over to where Xora was sitting and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He wouldn’t have believed it possible, considering she was huge and muscular and beautiful. But Xora had thrown a set of robes over herself – borrowed from one of the passing merchants who had been so focused on their haggling that he hadn’t had a chance to spot Xora snatching it and leaving behind a few gold coins. Those robes, plus her assuming a hunched posture, meant that she looked like a massive pile of robes wrapped around something indescribably evil and terrible.

Which, in the Goblin Market, were a dime a dozen.

The fae they had come to meet, the fae that Chirp had picked out, took their seat across from them. They were ice blue, with a beehive mound of hair that looked as if it might actually be a hive, considering the faintly ominous buzzing that kept escaping from it. They were dressed in a long, silver robe that flowed around their body with enough distance to render any attempt to place their gender almost impossible. Even their hands were covered with silver – silver gloves, which clinked and clattered as the fae placed their hands on the countertop. The gnarled wood that served as the table rasped oddly against the silver, as if the two items weren’t supposed to be touching and the world knew it.

“So,” the fae said. “I’ve been told you have something of immense value to trade with the one known as Greeter?”

“Yes,” Ember said, inclining her ... his head. “Greeter buys and sells genders, right? That’s what our information said.”

“Your information is correct,” the fae said. “But before we continue: I am Broker. Who are you?”

“I’m Sifu,” Goat said.

“I am Student,” Ember said.

Broker inclined his head ever so slightly – the intonation of his voice made it clear to Ember, in a bone deep, definitely magical sort of way. “I see you understand the ways of the Market,” he said. “Greeter, though, claims that he has access to a very potent set of he hims. What will you be trading?”

Ember reached into his belt pouch, and then withdrew the small, white furred drakhul bat that was Chirp when they were in their animal form. Sitting on his palm like a white puff of snow against the crimson of his skin, they spread out their wings and let out a tiny ‘chirrup’ noise. Their nose flared outwards, and their tiny fangs glittered in the pale firefly light of the Market. Broker put his hands to his face and let out a soft ‘ohhh!’ - then reached down and gently brushed his finger along Chirp’s belly. Ember noticed, very faintly, a flicker of silver light along the back of Chirp’s wings and managed to hide a grin.

If he could pump his magical prowess into climbing, leaping, lifting and throwing, why couldn’t Chirp be magically adorable?

It’s not like they needed much help.

Broker lifted his eyes to Ember. “I ... this is a remarkable specimen, but...”

“We shall sell this bat’s gender,” Ember said, quietly. “In exchange for Greeter’s gender.”

“The value...” Broker rubbed his chin. “I have examined many genders in my time – but the equivalence is hard to quite measure out here. This bat is very cute, but ... not quite on par with the masculinity that Greeter got.”

Ember scowled, then slammed his palm down on the table. “You think-”

Goat placed his palm on Ember’s shoulder “No, student,” he said – his voice reedy and soft, as if he was a wizened old man. “You must know that sometimes, when equivalence cannot be attained, sometimes, quantity must be found instead.” He turned his head to Broker, his eyes unfocused. He actually managed to look as if he was a blind old man – and Broker seemed to smirk slightly at that. “Perhaps we could exchange the bat’s gender for several genders of lesser values. Do you know Greeter’s stock?”

“His stock is quite plump,” Broker said, his voice becoming wry. “Many people come without being aware of the trick...” He sighed, then lifted his palm. His fingernails glowed, then projected beams into the air above his hand. Where those beams intersected, an orb appeared, and the orb was covered with small glyphs. Ember read a few of them as they swirled by – they were mostly gender symbols. He nodded. “There’s a broad range: Hes, theys, shes, xirs, zirs-”

“We’d like to purchase ... five hims,” Goat said. “Two hers and a they.”

Broker snorted, softly. “You ask for too much, old man.”

“We’re asking for a fair trade!” Ember snapped, and slammed his palms back down on the table again, half standing up. He had to exercise a great deal of effort to manage to look very growly and glarey without also making his anima flare. It was nearly as hard as keeping his own pronouns straight. Or, in this case, queer. Broker pursed his lips ever so slightly.

“Very well,” he said. “I will buy your they for four hims, one her and a xir.”

“They or no deal,” Goat said, placing his hand on Ember’s shoulder and gently pushing him back to his seat – just as they had planned.

“I don’t understand this,” Broker said. “You already have a they...” He nodded to Chirp, who seemed to be enjoying her role as ‘definitely a normal drakhul bat.’ They were currently curled up into a tiny ball of chalk white fur, bristling outwards everywhere their wings didn’t cover. And their wings covered a great deal, so they ended up looking a bit like a woman’s hair brush given an odd, ergonomic form. Broker scowled at Goat. “Why not take a xir – you can trade a xir for everything from a dream to five years of youth in the Goblin Market.”

“I wish what I wish,” Goat said. “But if you wish, I can throw in the story of why we wish the they. Would that be enough to convince you.”

“Is it a good story?” the Broker asked.

“It’s ... passable,” Goat said.

Broker rubbed his chin. “I’ll buy your they for four hims, two hers, a they and the story, if it’s passable.”

Goat inclined his head. “This they is the they of a bat, an animal, a foolish beast. It was born betwixt genders by a fluke chance. But a they purchased from Greeter would be taken from a mortal human, and thus, applicable to someone in our party who wishes a they pronoun. Hence, the trade.”

Broker frowned. “It is, as you say, a passable story.”

Goat held out Chirp in one hand. Broker held out his hand – and several glowing beads hung in the air beneath his fingers. Each bead had its own unique color, its own unique sense of itself. And yet, just looking at them, Ember could immediately tell which was which. Yes, two of them were red-ish, but one of them was the fierce, masculine red of a male person, and the other was the husky red of someone who smoldered with feminine potence. One of the feminine orbs was a brilliant blue spark, like the flash of a lightning, and it nearly hurt Ember to look at it. It was a pronoun that screamed I’m gay, gay, gay, I’m super duper gay, I like girls, and I’m a girl, and we’re super gay. He shook his head in slow wonder.