Rasheeka spent the rest of Kyriaki at the Hearth – or the skjisk, as those gathered there called it in their native tongue-or tongues. Being well-versed in the peculiarities of language, the Tizhan Khatta was able to pick out that the people there spoke multiple distinct dialects of unfamiliar languages, and accordingly the emene did not necessarily understand each other. Most people spoke in Laosian, the common denominator that all of them spoke, to one degree or another.

She and the equines weren't the only non-Neyemens among those gathered. A handful of humans and foxes, wearing entomo earrings like the emene, mingled with the emene who vastly outnumbered them. Rasheeka recognized the fox slave who brought her and the Savanites to the yejsk among those few. Not everyone was as warm or accepting of her as the yejsk – many gave her and especially the equines a cool or even suspicious reception. Nonetheless, their treatment as a whole was far friendlier than that shown to Rasheeka at the Astikos. Despite this, the two Rhians grew restless and anxious as time passed, and they seemed particularly uncomfortable with the strongly scented smoke of the fire. After less than an hour, Ronan anxiously inquired about leaving. In truth, the smoke made Rasheeka herself feel woozy and a little nauseous, but she was reluctant to give up the comfort of being among so many friendly people, however strange they might be. Rather than convincing the two equines to stay, or leaving herself, she worked out an arrangement with the yejsk – Her Rhian friends would leave early, but she would return with Neyemen Yejsk later to the Astikos.

One thing she learned was that "Neyemen Yejsk" wasn't his name. "Neyemen" was apparently the word for his people, and "yejsk" a job description, or perhaps a religious function – like "priest" or "shaman." The other emene called him "Neyn Yejsk" or, informally, "Enovsk" – the latter might have been a term of endearment, or perhaps his given name. There were other yejsks at the Hearth, giving Rasheeka the sense of a complicated pecking order that she little understood.

Finally, late that night, she and Neyn Yejsk, along with a handful of other emene, returned to the Astikos. The stench of the skjisk-smoke clung to her fur and filled her nostrils long after they left, leaving her dizzy and with a mild headache for most of the walk home. The next morning, her eyes felt sand-dry, her eyelids papery and rasping over them when she blinked. The strange food she'd eaten the day before at the Hearth sat queasily in her stomach when she went to breakfast, and in class it became particularly difficult to concentrate on Miona's dull, monotone voice.

At midday, the class takes a break for a couple of hours, to eat lunch and to practice their lessons on their own. The Khatta's appetite for the midday meal is little better than that morning, and she puts little on her plate – the Laosians rebuke harshly anyone who takes food and doesn't eat it. After she parts company with her friends, as she walks the halls of the Astikos, someone hails her in a soft but carrying voice: "Neyemen girl."

The speaker is dressed in the outdoor garb of a Laosian human woman – meaning, swathed head to toe in layers of cloth, with little of the face visible save for the eyes. Rasheeka has seen the style of dress a few times, when human women come into the Chamber of Scholars in the morning. Usually they remove the head veil and the light cape, setting them in the cloak room, once inside. This person must have just come in. The stranger holds a cloth-wrapped package out to Rasheeka.

The Khatta finds herself for a moment uncertain if the human woman is actually referring to her, or else some other "emene" that she just happened to miss. Checking around herself with a glance to make sure that isn't the case, Rasheeka is certain the woman must indeed mean here. As she walks over she thinks how silly she must look, having glanced around, and decides she'll just have to get used to responding to the call of "Neyemen girl". Even if she tried to explain to each and every person who called her "Neyemen girl" that her true origin and species name are different, she figures she'd never be able to convince them all, or even to walk away without a bruise. Besides that, she finds she likes the Neyemen so far, and doesn't mind the association. "Yes?" she inquires of the woman as she draws near her and drops in to a reflexive bow.

"This is for you." The figure waits for Rasheeka to straighten before pushing the package into her hand. "It is for you to eat. It will be – " a brief pause in the words " – good for the entomo. Neyn Yejsk asked me to give it to you."

"Neyn Yejsk did?" The emene blinks as she rises slightly, then reaches to accept the package. "Then I will eat it. Many thanks to you."

The Khatta can see a couple of people come walking down the corridor, towards them, but the human doesn't turn to look. "Good. I must go." With a short nod to the Khatta girl, the other brushes past her, the skirts of the over- and underdresses rustling together with the movement. In a moment, the human is around the corner and out of sight.

For a moment Rasheeka stares at the package with a mix of apprehension and thankfulness. It has been a while since anyone brought her something like this – last time it was Winter-Stars who was concerned she wouldn't eat. She muses for a moment on how glad she is that Winter-Stars and the Yejsk are here. Then, as she starts walking again, she wonders at the package itself. She can't help but wonder at its contents. She suspects it must be more Neyemen food, and the last Neyemen food she had fought with her stomach like the tyrs of the two provinces did with each other. And she also thinks the delivery strange; after all, why would a free woman run deliveries for a Neyemen slave?

Thinking she has done quite a lot of Afentis Miona's "homework" without the Afentis doing so much as acknowledging her existence, Rasheeka ponders visiting the apparent source of the food item. As she meanders along thinking about it she idly unwraps the item, peering at it curiously.

Nestled into a single layer of cloth, it looks like some sort of dark brown pastry, with a flaky crust and a little filling leaking out from one corner. It's still hot from the oven, steam rising from it along with a sweet, fruity smell to it, which should be pleasant, but something about it makes Rasheeka's stomach do flip-flops, tempting her to cover it up again.

Giving in to the temptation after a moment's consideration, Rasheeka covers the food item up again and decides where she should go. Thus she turns, changes direction, and makes to visit Neyn Yejsk. Something about the pastry just doesn't sit right with her – and it's not just the idea of eating more Neyemen cooking.

Though she has been in it for several days now, the Khatta is still none too sure of her way around the massive pyramid. But she has been to the yejsk's rooms twice now, and she manages to find them again without too much difficulty – if nothing else, the scent of incense gives it away. Poking her head into the antechamber, she spots a half-dozen unmarked slaves – vulpine, human, and feline – and an overseer waiting impatiently in one corner. Though the incense smells different from the smoke of the night before, it makes her eyes water and her head ache in sympathetic recollection nonetheless.

Deciding to press her luck and attempt to gain audience with the Yejsk, Rasheeka enters the room. Immediately she begins towards the Laosian overseer and hails him with, "Overseer. May I confirm a matter with the Yejsk? I will be brief." She tries to sound as calm as possible, as if she were supposed to be here.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" the man responds, scowling at her.

"I am Rasheeka, and I am confirming a delivery made by a – " She pauses as she considers a quick plan, and finishes with, " – human woman. It is regarding enty- entomo."

The overseer fixes her with a skeptical eye, then lifts and lowers his left hand from his side. "Very well. Be quick about it."

The muffled chanting of the yejsk filters through the heavy curtain into the antechamber, along with tendrils of smoke that make the Khatta's stomach churn.

The slave bows deeply and utters a quick, "Thank you, O kind sir", and then is off scurrying towards the barrier to the Yejsk's room. When she reaches the entrance she pauses there and leans to try and peek inside unobtrusively.

The overlay of bead strings covering the fabric rattle as she parts them. The smell, as expected, is worse when she parts them, but her dark-accustomed eyes adjust quickly to the dimmer light. The yejsk is standing behind a recalcitrant-looking fox whose arms are folded tightly across her chest, her mouth clamped shut while the old Khatta chants and shaves a circle on her ear. The entomo jar is next to them, unopened.

Rasheeka decides it's best not to interrupt the yejsk when he's about to attach the entomo. So she waits where she is, and watches. She finds the experience of observing the ritual without being part of it a curious experience. Last time she heard this chant it was she who was kneeling reluctantly beside the fire.

The fox takes it a lot harder than Rasheeka did, every muscle in her body tense and screaming of a silent, angry resistance. Watching her, it's hard for the Khatta to understand – why it makes her so angry, and why, if the fox is so upset, she submits at all. When the entomo is attached, the fox makes her first sound – a sharp, pained yelp. At last, the ritual is complete, and the vixen bolts from the room. Neyn Yejsk gives a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "Omvaria viyskia, Rah-see-kah" he says at last, looking at her. He smiles, but with less energy and warmth than usual.

Rasheeka gives the old shaman a sympathetic smiles. To try and cheer him up a bit, she offers hesitantly, "Omvaria Neyn Yejsk?" She steps forward past the curtains letting the beads jingle as the pour over her and fall straight again. Once fully inside she holds out the package, and asks, "Did you send me a package? Food, for the entyzomo?"

The emene chuckles at her. "No, you saying, 'Kordya omavaria, Neyn Yejsk,'" he tells her. "I not sending you food," he continues, accepting the package. "You getting eyntzomo food at Hearth, and Lah-awwws, they not understanding." He unwraps the cloth, holding it to his face and sniffing at it.

The girl's ears wilt a little but she smiles good-naturedly anyway. "Laosian, and Neyemen too. And more than Neyemen. Many emene. It's harder to learn when you can't sit down and study whenever you wish," she admits. As she watches the shaman inspect the package, she tilts her head. "A human woman gave that to me. It's odd, isn't it? I never thought human women would do deliveries. Not for slaves like you and me."

It takes a moment for the scent of the pastry to penetrate over the thick odor of incense – but when it does, the yejsk's face transforms, his eyes widening. He thrusts the pastry away from his nose as if it burned him. "Human giving this to you? What woman? Who being she?" he demands, angrily.

Rasheeka mewls suddenly, startled. "She wore a mask. She said it was from you, and that it was food for the entomo. She paused oddly when she said it. It's odd … isn't it?" she explains quickly, her voice rising with worry.

"Who being she?" the yejsk demands again, his ears flat against his head, snarling. He bursts into a spate of his own dialect, too quick and harsh for Rasheeka to understand, then he grabs her hand and stalks through the curtain, holding the offending sweet stiffly in front of him.

"I d-don- I-didn't-" sputters the emene girl as she gets dragged out of the small room and in to the antechamber. The relief from the heavy incense does nothing to ease her sudden aching worry as her stomach turns with an entirely new reason to be upset.

The slaves in the antechamber start at the sudden appearance of the emene, hunched and all but growling, towing Rasheeka behind him. "Where are you going?" the human overseer asks, as the yejsk stalks to the exit. He moves to intercept the smaller feline, blocking their path. "What's the matter with you? I've got six more to do!"

The shaman waves the pastry in the man's face. "Killing being!" he shouts, his fur bristling over his head and neck. "Being vsjari mykosin finding venriki – " His answer dissolves into speech unintelligible to Rasheeka – and, from the look on the slaver's face, to him, as well.

The inside of Rasheeka's ears suddenly go very pale. She manages to just whisper, "trying to kill me," loudly enough to be heard, the rest of her sentence being lost as the little feline finds herself too stunned to elaborate clearly. Her free hand gestures weakly at the fatal treat.

The man bats away the pastry, not seeming to hear Rasheeka's words, or making sense of even what the yejsk said in Laosian. "Look, I don't care if it's lunchtime for you or not. I've got six more slaves to do and it takes you long enough to do 'em when you're here. Magana! Whatever that slave wants it can wait 'til you're done with my people!"

The shaman bares his teeth at the overseer, nostrils flaring. He releases Rasheeka's hand, drawing the hand bearing the pastry back to him, and starts to bow to the slaver – then lashes out with one foot, catching the overseer behind the knees. He pushes hard at the man's chest; yelping with anger, the other topples out of the way. Neyn grabs Rasheeka's hand and pulls her out of the room as the overseer staggers to his feet again behind them, shouting.

Having just realized someone intended to kill her and on top of that having now been an almost participant in an attack on an overseer, Rasheeka finds herself quite at a loss for what to do except to be stunned. She doesn't resist the yejsk's pull, and follows him, too bewildered to think to do otherwise.

The overseer is screaming something like "murder!" and "proditos!" and some other Laosian words Rasheeka doesn't recognize. He is right behind them as Neyn pulls her along, and as a Laos Enosi warrior turns down the corridor, his left hand resting on the hilt of the shorter of his two sheathed swords.

"What's all – " the human warrior starts to say, then Neyn bursts into a spate of meyevsk at him, waving the offending foodstuff before his nose, while the overseer unleashes a torrent of shrill Laosian accusations directed at the yejsk.

In between all the shouting stands Rasheeka, and as the words grow fierce the smaller emene reaches with a hand to cover one ear as her head darts back and forth as the others each begin on further accusations against the other. Realizing suddenly that this can't continue and that the person who maybe just tried to kill her might be leaving even now she suddenly stands on her toes and yells, "Please! Quiet!"

The overseer blinks a few times, and Neyn turns his head from the warrior to look at her. Then the overseer launches back into his tirade. "Archon Mefuno, this little half-wit proditos tried to run out from his job and then tried to kill me when I went to – " he starts in, speaking over Rasheeka's next contribution.

The short sword makes a soft click as Mefuno draws a hand-span's worth of gleaming steel from the sheath. The overseer stops as the archon says, "The girl offered good advice. Heed it." He glances to the yejsk, whose whiskers are twitching. The emene looks about ready to launch into another spate of meyevsk, but the warrior shakes his head. "Calm down, grandpa. Now – you." He fixes his eyes on Rasheeka. "What's all this about?"

Rasheeka's hand runs back over her head clearing the sweat that has begin to gather beneath her fur. "A woman- … and she … " She points at the snack item. "… and it's, it's poisoned! Neyn Yejsk – " She shoots him a sorely thankful look. " – he, he smelled it and smelled murder. It, it was for me! From a woman, a woman I met in the hall. I, I … " The slave pauses as she hunches over, her hand moving to her chest as she catches her breath. "I'm one of dynatos tyr's possessions, and she tried to kill me … Right?" Again she looks to the yejsk, this time for confirmation.

The yejsk nods grimly. "Kyj," he says, simply, still holding out the pastry.

The overseer lets out his breath in a snort of disbelief. "That's ridiculous!" he exclaims. "Who would try to poison a slave – "

"I don't recall asking you to speak," Mefuno says casually to the slaver, and the other human quiets again. For all that, the archon looks skeptical, himself. Despite the well-made armor and tailored clothing he wears, he has a disreputable look to him. There's a layer of road dust on his clothes, as if he'd just returned from a long trip, and some of his hair escapes from the single braid started high on his head. Unlike most Laosian humans, who don't seem to grow much facial hair, this one has a ragged, stubbly black beard and moustache, as well as bushy eyebrows, almost growing together over the bridge of his nose. He relieves the yejsk of the pastry, sniffing at it – and he frowns. "You say a woman gave this to you? Was it for you to take to another?"

"No! Being for her to – "

"Grandpa, I did not ask you," the archon interrupts, a note of amusement lurking beneath his exasperation.

"No!" answers Rasheeka, suddenly looking worried now that the pastry has been taken from them. "Afentis Hefione would wish to hear of this. I am her assistant, and she would want to know. And it was for me, specifically, and it was supposed to be from the yejsk. I thought it was strange that a human woman would do the task of a slave, so I checked."

"You work for Hefione?" Mefuno says, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Who are you?"

Becoming quite flustered, and quite already flustered, Rasheeka gives a curt bow and confirms the information with a quick, "Yes," at first. When it occurs to her she should elaborate she continues with, "I am Rasheeka. It was during the lunch break from Afentis Miona's instructions and I was walking a hall when a veiled woman handed that to me and said it was for me, from the yejsk, for my entomo. But it isn't even Neyemen cooking!"

"Archon Mefuno!" the slaver protests. "Surely you do not mean to take the delusional ravings of these – proditos – seriously! And this one just tried to kill me!" He points a finger at the yejsk accusingly.

"As a matter of fact," Mefuno answers, "I do. And if Neyn Yejsk had tried to kill you, you would not be talking to me now, Rioto." The slaver bristles at the implied insult of being addressed as a "young man," but the archon ignores him. "Neyn, go back to your bugs and finish up with this man's slaves. I'll handle this, meh?"

The shaman is still bristling, but he bows, and pats Rasheeka's hand reassuringly, before he withdraws to his antechamber. Less gracefully, the overseer follows suit, leaving the Khatta alone with the warrior.

"Ra-see-ka?" Mefuno sounds out, gesturing for her to walk beside her as he strides, long-legged, down the corridor. "That doesn't sound like – kah – " He interrupts himself, with the aura of one under a sudden revelation. "You must be her. Meh."

Rasheeka gives the old shaman another grateful look, extremely glad she had decided to go see him. When the others have all gone and she is left alone to walk with the warrior the slave girl falls in line along side him, and to his vocal ponderings she says, "If you mean that does not sound like a Neyemen name, honored archon sir, it isn't. I, I- I'm sorry sir for the rudeness but … " The color still hasn't returned fully to her ears, and her voice carries that same nervousness that had soaked her words when the revelation came on her earlier that someone intended her death.

"Meh. You were the model of courtesy beside those two," Mefuno replies dismissively. He has a rough, unpolished voice, wielding words like a bludgeon. "This woman who gave you the pastry – tell me what she said to you. What did she look like? What was she wearing?"

Unthinkingly Rasheeka offers the man a quick bow of thanks for his compliment before she answers. "She – " The slave pauses as she recollects the events before continuing, "She said, 'Neyemen girl' to get my attention, and when I answered she said, 'This is for you,' and then, 'It is for you to eat. It will be – ' and then she paused oddly, like she was thinking, and then said, 'good for the entomo. Neyn Yejsk asked me to give it to you'. She was dressed like the human women of Laos Enosi do when outdoors, in heavy shawls and veils – but I remember her voice clearly."

"She also left quickly once more people started to enter the hallway, now that I think on it," further elaborates Rasheeka. "It was all very strange to me. That's why I came down here to speak with Neyn Yejsk."

The archon sniffs at the pastry again. "Meh. Like a woman … so you couldn't see her face. Meh." Mefuno isn't just atypically scruffy for one of the Laos Enosi, but also unusually tall and broad – not on the scale of the Rhians, but enough that Rasheeka has to break into a jog every few steps to keep up with his long strides. "Where, and how long ago? What color were her clothes?"

Looking up at the man, Rasheeka gets the distinct impression he's more like the sailors from the captain's ship than the Laos Enosi she has seen around the palace. She considers he might be a traveler of some sort or a envoy who recently returned. "I met her near the dining hall, out in the hallway. I'm sorry, but I do not recall her clothing well. They were dull and uninteresting colors that do not readily leap to memory," she answers, her voice easing though still nervous sounding.

"Meh. Of course. Rasika, was it? Show me where she met you, then I want you to go on back to the Chamber of Scholars. Tell Hefione what happened, and tell her I'm looking into it. I am Archon Mefuno," he adds.

Rasheeka inclines her head in confirmation when questioned about her name, then nods again to the instructions. "I- I will, Archon Mefuno, as you say. Please if you will, I will show you the way now." She begins stops at a nearby intersection to determine the shortest course, then follows it leading the Archon along. With his long strides, it's quite easy for him to keep up with the rather short feline.