"Perhaps you should take your nose out from your books more often, seer. Our Covenant is changing; the Sangheili will not have their power for much longer, I guarantee--" "[i]So let us cast our arms aside, and like discard our wrath. Thou in faith will keep us safe, whilst we find the path.[/i] You know these words, brute?" the philologist asked, quoting scripture like it was a second language. "The Writ of Union," the Jiralhanae answered almost immediately. "A Writ we signed many thousands of years ago, with the Sangheili. [i]Not[/i] the Jiralhanae. The San 'Shyuum seek the sacred rings, and the Sangheili protect us. It has always been so, and will always be so. You and all the other races but are guests of our peoples' Journey, and should show respect to the Sangheili as well; not just the prophets." "Holy seer, I have nothing but the utmost reverence for our holy crusade and the prophets who guide us, but the Sangheili--" "Fall back some, brute; I have tired of you. And leave this Sangheili next to me. He's manacled, and I'm sure that barbaric weapon of yours will work just as well from a short distance as it will jammed into his back. That is a clerical command." "By your word, philologist," the Jiralhanae muttered reluctantly, shooting Jeann'ee a venomous look before falling behind them several metres. The philologist glided closer to Jeann'ee, seemingly unafraid of a man branded as a criminal. "When you reach my age, you stop fearing the possibility of harm so much," the philologist said to him, as if reading his mind. "I am interested to hear your side of the story, Sangheili. What is your name?" "Kal Jeann'ee. Well, that is the name my mother gave me. As a bastard, I am forbidden to use the name of my noble father's house." "Do not be embarrassed of that, my son. You could not change the happenstance of your birth; your father begot you upon one who was not his wife. That is his shame, not yours. Now tell me; why do these Jiralhanae name you a criminal?" "Well, I am one," Jeann'ee confessed, feeling no reason to lie. "I sort of helm High Charity's underground. But that's not why these Jiralhanae are here. They're after Descol'ee." "Your absent friend causing so much trouble," the philologist filled in. "Do you know why?" "Descol'ee sought me out just less than a week ago, seeking sanctuary from the Covenant. He told me the High Councillor Restraint had been murdered, and that he could prove Truth had been the one to order the deed." "A matter of politics, then," the philologist sighed. "They all slit each others throats up there, but it's rare they leave behind evidence that can be pinned on them. I imagine Truth has sent these Jiralhanae then, to clean up his mess." "It must be so," Jeann'ee surmised. "And I've been caught up on his treachery. Of all the crimes I thought I'd one day die for, helping Ahkrin Descol'ee was never one of them." "But why are you here?" the philologist pressed. "Why did you want to see the Oracle?" "I don't know why Descol'ee wants to see him," Jeann'ee shrugged. [i]And I don't think I'll reveal my own motivations for coming to this dreadnought just yet.[/i] "Simple curiosity is the reason I'm here. Hearing the Oracle speak was a prospect I couldn't pass up." "An understandable wish," the philologist said. "But a foolhardy one. The Oracle does not speak, and he has never done so. As I said, he has matters more pressing than our own mortal ones. Kal Jeann'ee, you seem a good sort regardless of your deeds. I will try my best to have the brutes spare your life, but if the sanctum declares otherwise then there is little I can do. My reach does not exert far outside these halls." "Thank you, seer," Jeann'ee said back, and he meant it. "Even if your efforts fail, I will appreciate them all the same." They stopped at an elevator, and the Jiralhanae caught up. He gave them both a suspicious glance, before grunting and swaggered onto the disc. The elevator was caught by an anti-gravity beam, and began to steadily rise. "This will take us to the Oracle?" the brute demanded of the philologist bluntly, still upset over being dismissed so readily. "He is sealed in a special chamber, behind the isolation bolt. This elevator leads almost directly to it." "Good. The sooner the dreadnought's guns are activated, the better. I cannot breathe easy knowing the humans are so close, with us vulnerable." "How do you think I feel, with you pointing that monstrosity at me?" Jeann'ee asked pointedly, eyeing the spiker rifle that was so close to his face he could smell the blood stained on it. He brought up his chained hands. "I am bound, what are you so scared of?" "I would not be scared of a maggot like you even if you were armed to the teeth," the Jiralhanae swore, but he lowered his weapon all the same. The elevator stopped, opening up into a long hallway. A barrier glimmered fiercely at the end of it, its blinding light dominating the room. The three of them stepped out and began to walk towards it. "This is the isolation bolt you spoke of?" the Jiralhanae asked of the philologist, who nodded slowly. "Can you disable it?" "Yes," the philologist replied. "But if I do, you must surrender this Sangheili over to my authority. I will have the dreadnought's guards process him accordingly, and by the book." A great frown descended upon the Jiralhanae's face, and Jeann'ee was shot a filthy glare. The beast scowled, and threw up his hands in submission. "Fine, if it pleases you so. This one means nothing to us; make him your steward for all I care. Until we're gone though, he remains bound." "That is fair enough," the philologist agreed. "I will open the bolt--" The San 'Shyuum cut off mid-sentence, mouth hanging ajar. The Jiralhanae looked at him with puzzlement, and then through the slightly translucent light of the bolt. His blood-red eyes widened in surprise, teeth baring in anger. "Packmaster, you need to get up here," the Jiralhanae spoke urgently into his communicator, not taking his eyes of the bolt. "Now. It's him. No, I don't know how!" [i]If it were any other, I wouldn't believe my eyes,[/i] Jeann'ee marveled, a grin breaking across his face. Through the haze of the isolation bolt, a figure was bent over the Oracle's pedestal. At the Jiralhanae's voice, the figure turned around, and their eyes met. Behind the barrier, Ahkrin winked. And in a sudden wash of gentle green, the Oracle came to life. [Edited on 12.17.2012 4:31 PM PST]