Wynona looks around in unconcealed awe. "Wow. Oh my. I never imagined it would be so … so … " Her jaw just drops rather than finding a word to finish off her sentence properly.

Around the gray-haired white bat, the people of Babel mill about like leaves whipped by the breeze, some slower, others pushing ahead faster and disappearing around the curves of buildings. A young caracal apprentice runs by Wynona with an armful of scrolls and a harried look.

The white bat works her way toward the carved doors, her curiosity aiming to bring her in for a better look at some of those scenes in relief.

The scene on the closest door depicts a valley with trees worked in fine details, pebbling suggesting leaves. A mage in the foreground works some mysterious magic, causing a river to fountain out of the bare rock on which he stands.

The white bat spends some time drinking in the sights – and sounds – before she slowly and reluctantly turns toward more practical concerns, and starts looking about for someone who might be able to provide some direction.

The caracal apprentice proceeds down the street and… bumps into a large riderless Dromodon tied to a post which that took just that moment to turn about. He yelps, "Oh no! The letters!" as his armful of scrolls go flying.

Wynona lets out a soft "eep!" and scurries to try to catch some of the letters, trying to use her wings as well.

Nearby, a few silk-dressed weasel-like creatures with broad muzzles snicker. "He's been staring at books too long," one says loudly to the other. "Yeah, blind as a bat!"

Wynona pauses just long enough to squeak, "I heard that," and then returns to chasing after the errant papers.

The caracal grrrs as he collects dirt-smudged letters with Wynona's help.

The one with the blue sash elbows the one with the green-blue sash. "She heard us, oooh, I'm so scared… "

The one with the red sash snickers. "Yes, with those big ears, I'm not surprised. How's your vision, cute fluff?"

Wynona continues trying to snag the papers. Hmm. Could it be that she has been in similar mishaps involving wind and scattered papers before?

The caracal stops and starts to unsheath his claws. "They're insulting you," he hisses to Wynona.

Wynona glowers. "I know that. But I'll deal with it after we get these papers together, eh? Uhm … just what ARE we dashing after, anyway, if I might ask?"

Wynona mutters under her breath, "Of all places to make Eeee jokes … right here in Babel?"

The wind blows some of the papers around as the caracal pounces after another letter. "Letters from Rephidim," the apprentice yells. "Master Doham won't be pleased if I misplace one!"

Wynona sighs and chases after some more, mention of Rephidim reminding her of just how long of a trip she has ahead of her. She looks at some of the papers getting further away. She bites her lip and glares off in space, as if eyeing the wind for daring to work against her.

Blue-sash stoops and then picks up one of the scrolls. "Like this one? And what will he do if this one goes missing, eh, little apprentice?"

Wynona's gaze turns toward the disrespectful 'blue-sash'. She looks at his hand, looking to see if there's a College ring there … and if it gives any hint as to the station of the one wearing it.

Blue-sash wears a journeyman's silver ring… The others have the iron rings of senior apprentices. They look to be about within a year of each other – perhaps brothers.

"Interfering with the delivery of mail from Rephidim," Wynona says, "is an offense, you know."

The caracal hisses, his hackles rising.

Blue-sash looks nonchalant. "And who's going to tell? Give me a light, Buchares." The red-sashed weasel snickers, then takes a handful of some dry shavings and starts to mutter. A fire cantrip of some kind?

Wynona looks at the caracal, then roughly grabs him by the collar and tries to pull him aside. (Her tough show, however, is not very impressive, since Eeee are hardly known for strength.) She mutters in his ear, "Their behavior is unacceptable, but don't forget your place."

The caracal begins to stalk closer, then turns to hiss at Wynona. "Master Doham will STRIP my back if I lose a letter!"

Wynona starts to mutter as well, fixing her gaze on the shavings.

Buchares, the red-sashed weasel, stops mid-chant. "She's a mage too," he mutters to Blue-sash. "What do we do now?"

Wynona keeps chanting, not letting the energy fizzle out just yet.

Blue-sash looks back at the others, then over at Wynona. "No need. We wouldn't dream of interfering with any old mail," he says putting on a show of wounded innocence. "We were just teasing the apprentice here… "

He offers the scroll to the hissing and spitting caracal. "No harm done, right?"

Wynona keeps her gaze on the weasels, still chanting slowly, 'holding' the spell back for a bit longer as need be.

Red-sash bares his fangs, but waits at some hidden hand-signal from Blue-sash. Blue-sash walks closer, holding the scroll out but now to Wynona instead of the caracal. "Well, aren't you going to take it?" He steals a look back at the others…

Wynona waves a hand and lets the spell fire off, aiming a breeze for somewhere distant.

The wind gusts off, rustling hair. Just at that moment, however…

Blue-sash throws the scroll right toward Wynona's face! Red-sash and Blue-green sash run by the caracal and jostle him, causing him to drop his scrolls again, caught up by the sudden breeze, and all three begin to run as if bats out of the planetary core were chasing them.

The apprentice yelps. "The letters!" he wails.

Wynona throws up her wings in a reflexive motion, trying to shield her face from the attack.

Too late, of course.

The scroll goes *thump*, doing no damage except to Wynona's dignity.

The caracal apprentice grrs, torn between chasing and rending some of the weasels to pieces and getting his letters back. His tail bottlebrushes and his tufts twist forward.

Wynona tries to regain her bearings. "Stop," she barks at the caracal. "Don't forget your hide." She glares after the weasels. "Don't forget your hide or the letters."

The caracal takes a deep breath, and then starts running after the letters. "Why did you have to set them off like that?" he accuses with a look of frustration. "They would have left me alone… "

The white bat's ears are flushed red in embarrassment and anger, and she imagines every eye in the place focused on her. This last bit, though, is too much. She flings her pile to the ground. "Of course. Here. Now you're no worse than when you started."

The caracal nearly crumples a letter as Wynona adds to his frustration; he sets his teeth and begins methodically chasing down letter after letter, including one being licked by the Dromodon. Though his mutters are not intended to be heard, Wynona catches 'They never stop, she's just like them… '

The Dromodon licks the caracal on the ear.

"ACK! Stop that!" The tuft-eared cat waps the Dromodon on the nose.

Wynona mutters under her breath, "Deal with it," and shakily marches away, trying to look more angry than embarrassed.

The doors ring the Guild hall, one for each of the major spheres of influence. Near the door of a river-casting, Wynona finds a door showing a mage standing atop a mountain gesturing toward the clouds. Mighty stormbringers cross from west to east with flickers of lightning etched between their billowing flanks.

Wynona looks up to the depicted mage and whispers, "Just don't sneeze," and moves to enter.

The door swings inward to a high vaulted corridor with a skylight immediately overhead, presumably looking up to the roof of the first level. Doors bracn off into corridors that circle about the guild hall, and lead further inward… A few moments of inquiries brings Wynona to the office of the resident Master of the Air, the honorable Eferee, a pipe-smoking long-beaked bird with plumage of white and gray and black markings on his wingtips. "Ah! A journeyman," he says from his perch as the bat enters his alembics-and-retorts strewn office.

"And not from the area, if I am not mistaken," Eferee adds.

Wynona bows her head in deference. "You are not mistaken in the least, sir."

"Well, I am Eferee, Mage of Air," the loon says. "And may I have the pleasure of your name? Perhaps you would like coffee as well?"

"I am Wynona Windcaller, formerly assigned to the Lalee-Papu, based in Rephidim. … Uhm, no, please. Coffee makes me start sneezing," she adds, sheepishly.

The loon looks sympathetic. "How unfortunate! It is one of the finer ways to spend an evening after dinner, I find. Well, Journeyman Wynona, what may the Guildhall of Babel do for you?"

Wynona wrenches her mouth a bit, then opens it to say, "In accordance with Temple regulations, I am to report to the local Temple Authority or extension of the College Esoterica at my soonest opportunity. And this is it."

"The Lalee-Papu was above the Himaat when it was destroyed. The destruction of the ship interrupted a spell I was casting," she does her best to make mention of this as casually as possible, "and resulted in my being transported to Aelfhem by means I have been unable to investigate."

"Indeed?" Eferee looks surprised. He taps at his pipe and sets the large wooden contraption down, its 'business end' resting on three tiny legs. "Aelfhem is almost legendary these days. No trader has gone there in years!"

Wynona says, "I was very fortunate in that the Aelfin found me and aided me. It seems that there was a war going on in their region … but it seems they have come to an agreement for the time being. A bat named Raveekrahna, from a nearby settlement, guided me from there all the way to Babel. Along the way, I visited Master Zahirinee… " She bites her lip, remembering another errand she has to run.

"How did the Lalee-Papu come to be destroyed then?" Eferee asks. "Pirates, perhaps?"

Eferee listens curiously.

"No," answers Wynona. "Master Zahirinee was helpful in this regard, presenting a vision of events as they transpired." She looks down. "It would seem that some Savanite slaves, for reasons I cannot guess, destroyed the ship by introducing fire to the hydrogen envelope."

"So far as I know, I am the only survivor… " She pauses, furrowing her brow. "No, I'm not sure of that. I saw … Jarik and Kazhir … maybe they escaped… " Her voice trails off, dropping in volume as she tries to sort out some of the details a bit belatedly … though surely she should have had plenty of time to go over this during her journey.

"My word," Eferee says. He takes up his pipe and shakes it a bit until he's satisfied with the puffs of smoke billowing from the covered top of the pipe. "So Master Zahirinee gifted you with one of his visions… A formidable, if retired colleague. I remember back when we were both students, when I replaced his usual scrying waterbowl with vodka… " He waves the pipe dismissively, laughing. "How is the old coot?"

Wynona frowns, "Not very happy, I gather. Uhm … You see … " She clasps her hands together, and scrapes one foot along the floor. "Ah … I tried to find a toy airship lost in the lake by his apprentice, and I … uhm … I disturbed the waters of his pool." She doesn't dare meet the gaze of the bird.

The loon rubs the dipped underside of his beak. "My goodness. First the Lalee-Papu explodes and you are somehow magicked to Aelfhem where you stopped a war, then you had a vision in which you saw conspiring Savanites of some sort, and disturbed Master Zahirinee's pond, and now you are here. A checkered past, indeed." The soft edges of his mouth curve up. "Is there anything else that you wish to add? Though I assume of course, that your full report will be made to your master in Rephidim proper."

Wynona blinks. "Stopped a war?" Her ears flush. "I … didn't say anything about stopping a war. That … that was … If it weren't for Raveekrahna… "

Wynona looks back up to the loon suspiciously.

The loon smiles. "You have caught me out. Master Zahirinee's apprentice, Skiree, was here just an hour ago and had some interesting things to say. Undoubtedly she would be here still, but she seemed rather eager to, ah… go shopping."

Wynona looks sternly at the loon for his deception, but then covers her muzzle, stifling a giggle. "Oh my! I heard all these tales about the candies to be found in Babel when I was just a kitling, and… " She smirks, imagining Skiree gorging herself sick on candy, with a multi-color-stained mouth.

"Indeed, with the fruit of the cacao and the sugarfir so close to hand," Eferee agrees. "We must surely do something with such fine and wonderous makings for sweets." He gestures to a covered bowl where Wynona may help herself to some if she likes.

A frown soon follows, as Wynona realizes that she's not likely to see that little bat for a very very long time, if at all. In any case, the next time she sees Skiree, surely the apprentice will be all grown up … She sighs. She looks to the bowl, and would have gladly gobbled down several pieces moments ago, but the present line of thought steals away her appetite for sweets, and she politely declines.

The loon leans forward. "So then, I assume that you will be needing passage to Rephidim, Journeyman Wynona? And are there any other things that you would like?"

Wynona says, "Well, I am to get a message from Master Zahirinee to the College Esoterica – That will be my concern, I suppose – but there is also the matter of getting a mage of the Sphere of Chaos and of the Sphere of Water to pay a visit to Master Zahirinee. Without them, it may take months to restore the pool so that he may scry in it again." She bites her lip at the end of this reminder of her major goof-up.

Eferee nods. "Indeed… I shall make the necessary arrangements. Mm. A Chaos mage. Very rare people; the only one I know is Mistress Haskalah, who teaches in Rephidim… I'm afraid we don't have one in residence at the moment, but I'll send Master Doham and perhaps he can lend a hand while we wait." He smiles. "Of course you'll be staying to dinner tonight and tomorrow as well, Journeyman Wynona. I am certain that you'll have the sincere appreciation of traders who will again be able to trade with the Aelfins, and perhaps you'd like some time to look about the city, yes?"

Wynona blinks. "Master Doham?" Her ears start to tinge a bit red again.

The loon nods. "Of course… Do you know him?" He looks at the pink-eared bat a little oddly.

Wynona says, "No … no, I don't know him. I just heard his name not too long ago. Could you tell me about him? Is he harsh with his apprentices?"

She adds, "… does he get any … terribly important mail?"

Wynona starts considering that maybe sight-seeing in Babel for very long is not such a great idea…

Eferee taps his pipe, at which he has been puffing now and then, stirring little embers. "I would not say harsh, but perhaps firm. He believes very much in proper discipline and mastery, a mage of the Old School, you see. As to mail, well yes, we all do." His eyes twinkle. "We keep up a thriving correspondence with Rephidim and other continents. There's always a great deal to keep up with. Experiments, observations, new bits of lore being turned up, hmm? I expect that Master Doham will have a paper to write about Zahirinee's pool."

Wynona looks a little more progressively sick. And it's certainly not from eating too much candy. "Oh," she says. She starts mentally going through all sorts of excuses for when that little incident outside inevitably gets her into trouble.

{ But Master Doham is going to be sent off to help Master Zahirinee. So maybe I won't have to meet him … or his apprentice. } Wynona thinks, and then regrets thinking it.

Eferee looks a little puzzled. "Well, at any rate you'll sit at my table tonight." He reaches out with a wingtip to pat Wynona's hand. "Tomorrow, I'm sure you'll be the toast of the city, Journeyman Wynona. Not everyone has a hand – or wing? – in ending a war after all, and reopening a land to trade. I'll see about arranging an airship berth for you as soon as possible."

Wynona's eyebrows raise in surprise. "My. Aelfhem is a nice place … but … I had no idea … that anybody would really care. Except the Aelfins, of course. And Raveekrahna and his people. Even if he doesn't like me."

At that moment, a familiar tufted-eared head pokes into the office. "Mail for you, Master Efer – eeep!" The caracal sees Wynona and ducks back.

"Well perhaps I overstated," Eferee confesses. "Still, it is good news for traders always looking for new markets." He looks up at the apprentice's call, startled. "Jamais, is that you?"

Wynona's ears pick up the familiar voice. { Argh! The fates heard my thoughts and decided to play a prank on me! Woe is me! } She starts to say, "I would most certainly be honored to sit at your table, sir," but cuts it off as the bird responds to the apprentice. She does not turn to look, vainly hoping she hasn't really been recognized.

The caracal peeks into the office again. "YesmasserEfereehere'syourmail," he rattles off as he runs in and drops several dirt-crusted and sandy scrolls onto the desk and starts to back off quickly.

The caracal seems to be having much the same thoughts about Wynona.

Wynona's mouth droops into a faint frown. She remembers her days as an apprentice, and can't help but imagine the poor caracal having to answer for any missing pieces…

"Indeed, mail," Eferee says dubiously as he looks at the unkempt scrolls. "Bide a moment please, Apprentice Jamais."

The loon looks at Wynona with the avian version of a raised eyebrow.

Wynona looks back at the loon with the bat version of a guilty expression.

Jamais makes a really tiny 'erk' noise.

"I believe you were speaking of mail a moment ago, Journeyman Wynona?" Eferee asks. He sticks his pipe back in his beak at the corner where the soft tissues provide a proper seal, puffing on it while the caracal folds his ears back and waits for some dire punishment.

"It's not really his fault," the bat confesses, the loon's reaction to the grit not escaping her notice.

Eferee nods to the bat, gesturing for her to go on.

Wynona recounts, "When I arrived, a wind blew the letters from his hands. I tried to help. A journeyman and two senior apprentices interfered."

Eferee raises both eyebrows, but nods again.

He doesn't seem terribly surprised.

Wynona twists her mouth again. "I wasn't inclined to be as polite as I ought to have been, and my attempt at impressing them with a spell was wasted. They knocked the apprentice's papers about again and … " Wynona looks down. "I got mad at the apprentice when he pointed out my error and threw down the letters I had retrieved."

Wynona glances at the letter on Eferee's desk, wondering if it looks familiar…

The loon nods. "Well, that would explain your embarrassment," the Guild mage says gently. "Jamais, do sit please. I won't bite you!" He taps at his pipe as the caracal sits, and then continues, "We all do make mistakes, young Eeee, and I am relieved to see that you are willing to admit to one. Now, you are undoubtedly aware that apprentices are often hazed by their seniors, having gone through some of that yourself… " He raises an eyebrow, waiting for Wynona's answer.

The caracal looks as if he'd like to nodnodnod vigorously about hazing.

Wynona frowns. "'Hazing' or not, interference with the delivery of mail on their part was inexcusable … and they did not seem at all reluctant to spend some disrespectful words about myself," she sniffs.

"Master Doham would be inclined to say that one must forge ahead despite the efforts of others to the contrary… I think at times that he might have made a much better mage of Earth than Water," he says with a laugh. "But I think that there is a line to be drawn between teaching discipline and needless cruelty." The loon frowns. "But it is also difficult to find those willing to testify, because they believe the offender or his friends will make things worse for them later."

"This was no hazing. They started by insulting me," Wynona recalls, looking far less guilty than genuinely perturbed now, as she secretly harbors thoughts of demonstrating the College-forbidden spell of Flatulence on certain weasels.

Wynona narrows her eyes, "… and derogatory terms regarding the eyesight of Eeee. I do not think the Sabaoth would be very pleased to learn that Journeymen are making light of such," she adds, though she certainly would be in no position or inclination to really report a case of name-calling to anyone even associated with the ruler of Babel. "Perhaps the students forget just where they are." She sniffles a bit, and subconsciously checks her pouches for a handkerchief.

The loon puffs a wisp of smoke. "Indeed. Such lack of courtesy and… As you say, interference with needful tasks, must clearly be dealt with. Are you willing to identify Jamais's assailants then, Journeyman Wynona?"

The caracal squirms in his seat.

Wynona looks to the caracal. "Certainly." After all, she doesn't have to stay around to deal with any impertinent weasels. And if they should happen to be headed to Rephidim as well, then fate is simply too cruel.

"But… What if they think it's my fault?" Jamais bursts out.

Wynona looks at Jamais, but only shakes her head.

"Unless you're a master of the Sphere of Mind or a great ventriloquist," Wynona says, "I don't think you should have to worry about that."

Eferee smiles. "Courage, young Khatta. It is insult to her and conduct unbefitting a Guild-trained mage that they answer for, not hazing to any simple apprentice. Do your duty and Master Doham will have no complaints."

Wynona leans over to the caracal and whispers, "Or if he does, at least there's someone else to blame, eh?"

"As to what shall be done… " He looks skyward a moment, to the skylight over his office that admits colored sunlight. "It's clear that they have far too much free time. More duty assigned to them ought to make it clear that their work comes first, will it not?" The loon quirks a smile and looks over to Wynona. "I understand that young Skiree described Raveekrahna as a most unpleasant and aggressive fellow. Would you say the same?"

Wynona smirks. "Oh, I don't know. If he were 'most unpleasant', Aelfhem and the Eeee would still be at war … " she turns to a frown, "… and I'd probably be dead." She shakes that thought away.

Jamais cheers up a little. "Bathroom-cleaning details maybe?"

Wynona smiles and approves of that thought.

"This is true," Eferee agrees. "Still, the land is most harsh in the Mother's Arms. Establishing a Guild presence there should be a suitable challenge for someone whose talents are clearly underused here." He smiles, only his beak preventing it from being a toothy one. "But enough of such depressing matters. Here, Apprentice Jamais, you may have a sweet. Go on with your rounds. I have kept you long enough."

The caracal bows to Wynona and Eferee. "Hearing and obeying," he says with a half-grin again gracing his muzzle. He takes an orange-and-plum colored sweet and scampers off.

Wynona looks down at herself. "Oh my. I just remembered something." She was almost getting USED to this. No WONDER the weasels were so disrespectful! "Uhm … Do you think there's some way I could get some more suitable clothes?" She pauses long enough to smile at the departing caracal, then looks back to the loon. "I'm afraid my previous robes were singed beyond salvage." She gingerly touches at one of the darker patches of her fur.

Wynona hmms, muttering to herself, "Maybe back in Rephidim, I could check the Bazaar for some sky-blues… "

Eferee looks over at Wynona with a nod and a kindlier smile. "Of course, Journeyman Wynona. I'll have Apprentice Oja see to it immediately. He will show you to your quarters as well, so that you may refresh yourself before dinner."

Wynona smiles brightly. "Thank you!"

Wynona looks about for this "Oja", or some cue of where to go next.

"You are quite welcome," the loon replies, and then leans forward. "I'll be looking forward to hearing more stories about your trips, hmm, Journeyman? There must be more to tell about this search for a toy airship after all… " Laughing quietly, he pulls on a bell-dangling cord, one and then thrice. *ding* *dingalingaling*

Wynona covers her mouth, stifling a giggle. "I … I'm sure I'll have plenty to tell."

And with that, a young tan fruitbat appears in the door to show Wynona to her quarters. Eferee bids Wynona an amused and affectionate adieu…

Wynona waves perhaps a little too enthusiastically back at Eferee, and follows the young fruitbat, her mind churning over what to do for the dinner tonight, what she might possibly wear, which tales would be proper to tell and which might be best left untold… She bounces slightly as she walks along, smiling as she goes.