After a two-day stopover in the city of Safar, the Eastern Flower proceeded over the wilderness of Xenea toward the coast, where it followed the breakers foaming white over the rocks to a little notch cut into the land… Half Valley. It moored there near some pylons – it appears that the valley boasts only rudimentary docking facilities for airships, and only one sizable ship can dock at any time, at least without employing the same techniques they would at any place without a dock. Fortunately, it's not as if there's a waiting queue; there are no other airships in sight.

Aski Medes stands at the gangplank and calls to the technopriestess. "Buran! It's time to go. Have you got everything?" The expedition 'equipment' has dwindled surprisingly in size, considering that two of the largest boxes are now gone.

Buran is leaning on the rail, looking over the ship's side at the waves below as they crash against the land. However, she looks over her small duffel-like bag of personal items and the instrument-case leaning against it. "Everything."

The old Rath'ani starts stumping his way down the gangplank then, toward the crowd of curious on-lookers. The sun glows with the ruddy light of late evening, threatening twilight soon, and the raccoon mutters to Buran, "We'll want to get to Jennendra's before dark. Night's bad for my bones."

The Sphynx lifts her case and bag and follows along behind. As she walks, Buran looks about at the people and buildings, making an effort to avoid openly staring at anything like an over-eager tourist.

Aski Medes stops within distance of the Town Square and glances back at the boxes. "Oh dear. Some of this may come in useful, and in any case, I have no desire to waste money. Dear Buran, would you mind finding someone who has a wagon and hiring them to transport us and our goods? I'll see if Jennendra's moved lately or not."

So speaking, the Rath'ani totters over to some of the locals and starts asking questions.

Buran sighs lightly as she surveys the square for sign of any form of suitable transportation. A delivery wagon, perhaps, or maybe there's public transportation of some kind not unlike that of Blitzheim.

There are a few teamsters around and about, transporting goods hither and thither. Most of them seem preoccupied with their cargo, however, except for one fellow. He struggles with a pair of Dromodons that refuse to respond to the Skeek's coaxing, stubbornly remaining where they are, and occasionally jerking the poor mouse around on the end of their reins when he gets too persistant.

A shadow passes over Buran, likely clouds or a bird. For some reason, she has the oddest feeling that someone's staring hard at the back of her neck.

(Figures,) Buran thinks. (Let's hope this isn't a bad sign… ) The Templar in blue makes her way to the wagon in question, quietly murmuring apologies as she dodges and weaves through the hubbub. Just before reaching it, the fur on the back of her neck ruffles up a bit, and she turns to look behind her.

Behind her is… Nothing in particular. The fountain of the town square, some children playing at some sort of game of jacks. No one gives Buran any more than the usual curious look, or occasionally a sidelong glance of some sort of disapproval.

Or maybe that last is just her imagination. It's not as if they've ever seen her before, and indeed, they may never have seen a technopriest at all.

Buran shakes her head, memories of Blitzheim returning, how the Chronotopians looked at her. Maybe they just haven't seen a Sphynx before – but Buran commits the incident to memory. She finally reaches the Skeek and inquires, "Can I be of help?," doing her best to look harmless.

The Skeek is too busy to notice Buran's approach. "Whoa, Carmine! Easy, Balphor! Just a little trip, and we'll stable you for a sound night's… gack!" One of the Dromodons shakes its heavy head, jerking the teamster around again, who struggles to maintain his balance.

Shaking her head knowingly, Buran steps to the side of one of the Dromodons, careful to remain within its field of view, and murmurs quietly to it as one would a cranky baby.

One of them, apparently the one the mouse called 'Carmine' snuffles, starting to rear for a moment. Its forelegs only leave the ground slightly, however, and it eventually calms down. The other one acts more wary, and calms more grudgingly, but eventually Balphor becomes as docile as Carmine. "Oh, blessings upon you, noble lady!" breathes the rotund little rodent, getting his left paw untangled from the reins. "I don't know quite what got into them!"

Buran answers, "I'm afraid I wouldn't know; I've never owned a Dromodon before. I was wondering, actually, if you could carry some goods for me. You are for hire, aren't you?" She smiles.

The teamster's whiskers whisk, his nose twitching busily. "Well, madame, I did have a shipment to make… but since Balphor and Carmine wouldn't have cooperated with that if you hadn't come along, it wouldn't hurt me to do a service in return! For a stranger, you seem like a very nice sort. Where did you have in mind? Perhaps it's on my way."

Buran says, "I hope so, too." She explains, "My companion and I are seeking an old friend of his, a Jennendra. We would be traveling to her home, if we can find it. I believe that's him, over there." A lightly-spotted forefinger subtly indicates the Rath'ani.

"Jennendra? Who might that be?" inquires the Skeek. "And for that matter, who might you be? Tsk, tsk, tsk, where are my manners? I'm the merchant Hibbles C. Fife, but the children seem to like to call me Mr, Hibbley when I bring goods to peddle here, so I've gotten used to that moniker." The plump mouse laughs a quivery, though not nervous, laugh.

The same lightly-spotted right hand extends in greeting. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir. My name is Buran Ateidei, though I'm just usually called Buran. If you'll give me a moment, I'll see if we know where we're going yet."

Mr. Hibbley takes Buran's proffered hand, shaking it warmly. "A pleasure to meet you, Buran! You've met Carmine and Balphor, of course… who is your distinguished looking companion over there?"

The distinguished looking companion in question appears to be all the way across the town square, talking to a Lapi in a lavishly embroidered dress jacket. The nearby townfolk are keeping a small distance from the two.

As she walks toward Aski, Buran explains, "He is a distinguished scholar, at least to some. His name is Aski Medes, and he's done a lot of research. And he's traveled widely. He's quite kind." A tinge of admiration creeps into her voice.

The old Rath'ani leans on his cane. "I'm not certain that anyone around here knows who Jennendra is, but if you could help, Magistrate, it would be a great relief. She's a smallish sort of Korv, feathers going to graying, and she would be a practitioner of the magical arts… " he says to the rabbit.

The Lapi glaces furtively around. Though he looks to have a generally friendly demeanor, he looks a little hesitant, perhaps even slightly guilty. "Ah, please, please… be sure to keep your voice low when discussing 'her', wise elder. Yes, I know her fairly well in fact. She's been a good friend in times of need, but some of our townsfolk are still a little leery of a… " He mouths the word 'mage', "… living just up the way, you know."

Buran pauses a polite distance away from Aski. To the Skeek, she whispers, "I don't think he knows yet."

Aski looks taken aback. "But whyever should that be the case, your Honor? In many places… " He gestures helplessly, then goes on, "Seers would be quite respected members of the community, would they not?"

Mr. Hibbley looks faintly puzzled. "Well, I'm afraid I don't either. I'm sure Magistrate Whitewhiskers can help your scholar friend about, though. Is that what you came for? To check something in the library, perhaps?"

The Magistrate's paws are held pad upward in a helpless expression. "I could never refute Jennendra's good intentions or wisdom, but you know how it is with a seafaring and farming town. We're all good people here, hard-working… but I'm afraid that many of our citizens are simply not as worldly as you skylanders. Superstition and gossip are a little more popular than I'd care to admit to myself most times… "

"It… is a long story," the Sphynx says. "We bring things for her," Buran continues as she indicates the expedition equipment. "That's why we need your help. We have questions we need answered; we've come a long way."

The Rath'ani frowns, then glances over to Buran and back, then lowers his voice. "It's a great shame, your Honor, but respect for knowledge can never be compelled, only earned. Where can we find her?"

"Such is the way with scholars," squeaks the chubbly little merchant, nodding knowingly. "I'm content to know about finance and trade, myself. Well, that and breeding prize-winning drokkar." A hint of pride, there. "You must have come a long way to see this person, friend Buran. You're not quite like anyone I've seen before."

The Lapi's ears dangle as he leans next to the scholar. "Jennendra maintains the lighthouse on the northern cliff of the Valley, overlooking Levitha's maw, the estuary. I sometimes have supplies delivered to her for keeping the lighthouse functional… she's probably due to receive another care package, hmm?"

Aski Medes chuckles. "One might say that, yes, your Honor. Is the way clearly marked, or should I look for a guide?"

Buran bows slightly, a faint smile touching her face. "Many have said the same, though not always with good intent. I've travelled far less, myself, than Aski – er, Mr. Medes. But I'm finding it exciting."

"There should be a fairly clear wagon trail there, though I'd advise against wagons if you can help it," replies Warren, straightening his ears back out. "The trail is fairly narrow, and a wagon can be a little more difficult to navigate there. A little more cumbersome, that's all."

The old Rath'ani looks worried. "As a matter of fact… " He looks over to where Buran is speaking with a wagoner Skeek.

Mr. Hibbley beams, his whiskers puffing out. "Travel is a broadening experience, you know. You can learn a lot just passing between borders over Sinai."

Buran smiles and nods to her new acquaintance, though she turns to the Rath'ani and raises her left eyebrow at him.

Aski excuses himself to the Magistrate, "Thank you very much for your help, your Honor. I'd best speak with my travelling companion, and see what can be arranged." He totters over to Buran and then explains to her, "The magistrate says that she lives in the lighthouse, but that the way up there is quite narrow, perhaps too difficult for wagons. What do you think?"

The winged snow leopard defers to Mr. Hibbley.

The Skeek looks puzzled. "What was this about again, Buran? Oh, your friend?"

Buran nods.

"So your friend lives up in … " The Skeek laughs, and waves a paw. "But that's silly. Only that strange old witch lives up there."

Aski coughs and looks pained, but says nothing.

Buran hastily amends, "I believe Mr. Medes is trying to say that the person we're looking for is near there." Privately, she decides that giving the exact location would be a mistake.

"Oh! Well, must be fairly affluent to enjoy cliff property," muses Mr. Hibbley. He eyes his wagon as he goes on. "The Magistrate is correct when he says wagons have a hard time navigating there. I could probably lend you a pair of drokkar, though. If Whitewhiskers knows you, I'm sure you'd be responsible with them."

The old Rath'ani fumbles for something to clear his throat, and seems to be busy enough coughing he can't reply immediately, but gives a nod to Buran. He unscrews a flask quickly and drinks something that smells like a sticky-sweet liquid.

Buran nods to the Skeek. "That'd be too kind of you!"

The merchant raises a paw modestly. "Loan of a drokkar is but a small token for a new friend."

After coughing a bit but sounding better, the Rath'ani wheezes. "You're very kind, master… ?" He looks at Buran for a name.

Buran notes to Aski, "It seems we have found our transportation. Oh! Aski, meet Hibbles C. Fife."

Aski shakes hands, though with difficulty. "It's an honor to meet such a polite and respectful young Skeek as yourself," he says. "If there is some small recompense we might offer?… "

"With as much as Buran has told me about you, the priviledge of meeting you is quite enough, Scholar Medes," replies the rotund trader cheerfully. "I'll have a pair of my gentlest steeds groomed and ready for the both of you at the town stables when you wish to depart."

The Rath'ani looks pleasantly surprised. "Well, I'll strive to see that you get them back in as good condition as you loan them, or better, Master Fife."

"Fair travels, then!" Leading his docile Dromodon back along the road, Mr. Hibbley waves a farewell, and proceeds towards the market. He's intercepted by some laughing children, who escort him along his way.

Aski says to Buran, "Well! You don't often see kindness like that – in fact you'd never see it in Rephidim." He chuckles. "Well, let's find those stables, and then we'll take the wagon trail up."

"I hope these boxes will all fit on two Drokar… " muses Buran, looking back again at the pile.

With some directions, the elderly Rath'ani and the sphynx priestess are directed to follow an old logging trail toward the north. The woods are peaceful, the drokkar responsive and easy-going, and about the worst complain one can bring to bear is a slight case of saddle sore for those unused to riding. The Northern Cliffs can occasionally be seen through clear spots in the canopy… majestic alabaster spires of weatherworn rock towering over beast and tree alike.

The last fading light of the day casts long shadows over the land, every rock sporting a streamer of black. Thin-winged birds of some kind, silhouetted by the sun so that it is impossible to make out their species, flap over the forest. A sour odor of decay wafts at times through the otherwise salty-fresh smell of the sea. Something must have died in the woods; perhaps it was some unlucky prey only wounded, that then escaped its hunter.

The trail becomes hazy in the dimming light, hard to follow at times… and for some reason, that uneasy sensation Buran experienced in town earlier returns from time to time. The dusk makes things more and more confusing, night-time noises of the forest coming from all directions. Something finally stills the unsettling feeling from earlier… a broad beam of light pierces the canopy overhead. A little ways farther, and the woods fall away from cliffs grayed by the evening, and Jennendra's lighthouse can finally be seen keeping its lonely vigil over the waters below.

As the two travelers emerge from the forest at last, to reach this lonely spot by the shore, Buran pauses to look up at the lighthouse and at the beam it sweeps regularly, endlessly, over the sea. They certainly don't have them in Rephidim. "Well!" she says to Aski, finally shaking herself out of the reverie. "Let's hope someone's home."