Crunch, crunch, crunch. Brishen smiles happily as she perches atop a lightpost near Alhazred's Fried Insect and Soba Bar, munching on a quick lunch. Now and then the leg of a hapless grasshopper tumbles down to the ground, but for the most part she seems to get her food in her mouth.

A shadow passes over Brishen, another Eeee passing overhead. The Bazaar here is mostly groundling, meaning that the tents all around are designed for those who like walking; Little Babel is off a few blocks where the wooden structures afford enough room on their roofs to support another level of stores.

'Honest' Abdhul shouts, "Slightly used furs! Only used once! Buy my furs and never fear the chill of winter." He waves around muffs made from some peppery-gray material.

Another Eeee comes around in a low curve and squeaks at the bat munching on grasshoppers. "Hey! Are you Brishen? The courier?" This one is a dark gray, shading to black at his wingtips and feet, and of a lean build. He flaps in a circle around the lamp post.

Brishen glances up at the gray Eeee and smiles. "That's me!" She tilts her head a little, "What's up?"

"We got a cousin wants to talk to you," the Eeee says. Brishen's ears detect that the first Eeee has circled around to observe the proceedings. A third approaches from a fair distance.

Several Kavis below play 'Templars and Babelites', those designated as the horrid enemies being made to wear scraps of cloth that flutter from their shoulders. The Templars of course, get to carry sticks, while the Babelites throw tiny rocks.

Brishen scoots over so the other Eeee has a place to land, still smiling. "A cousin? That's cool!" She grins, "Does he have anything that needs to be delivered?"

A childish voice drifts up to Brishen, "Hey! No fair climbing up there!" A young Kavi totters on a pile of boxes that looks too unsteady for another Kavi to join him; there, armed with a reservoir of missiles, he pelts some of the unlucky Templars. "The Babelites are s'posedta lose!"

The dark gray Eeee lands next to and a little below Brishen. "Uh, yeah," he says. "He'll tell you the details when you meet him."

The other two Eeees in the area flap about the area, staying close without obviously paying too much attention to Brishen and the bat sent to fetch her.

Oh, no. This was a good day! Come on! Brishen smiles, glancing down at the Kavis. "Cool!" She grins good-naturedly. "Though, I'm not sure why he'd want me, 'specially with a cousin like yourself."

"Hey, I'm not his errand boy," the Eeee says looking a little offended. He leans closer, conspiratorily. "But look, you strike me as a girl who knows which way's up. There's probably good money in this if you play your cards right, get my drift?"

The Kavi on top of the boxes yipes! as the other Kavis gather around to shake them up, toppling several over as well as the 'Babelite' himself. They scatter as the empty crates crack into piles of wood and a nearby proprietor comes out to yell at them, cursing them for the waste of perfectly good boxes; the 'Babelite' rubs his head, and then gets up to sprint after his friends.

Dark brown eyes glitter greedily as Brishen smiles. She's not entirely unfamiliar with this song. "Alright, since you put it that way, I suppose I could be persuaded to take the job." She brushes a lock of hair from her eyes, "Though, it's been a long day, and I wouldn't mind having the chance to freshen up. Could I meet your cousin in an hour?" And empty my satchel at the Guild. If I'm doing a Darkside run, I don't want to bring anything that could be taken.

The dark gray bat shakes his head. "Sorry, our cousin's a man of punctuality. He hates to be kept waiting. It won't take long."

The Rath'ani proprietor grumbles and starts collecting the scraps of wood, which have been designed to dovetail into one another under ordinary circumstances. Now though, some of the interlocking pieces have been damaged and will have to be fixed or replaced. "Lousy Kavis," he grumbles. "Ought to run off the lot of them."

"Oh, bugs!" Another lock of hair gets brushed from her eyes as Bree fusses at it a bit, then pouts. "Wellll, I guess I could hold off some of my other deliveries." There's three of them and one of me. Wonderful. How do you get yourself into these things, girl? This doesn't sound right, even for a Darkside delivery…

The dark gray Eeee nods. "Hey, you look pretty fast there. Should be no problem." He waggles his eyebrows at her wings appreciatively. "Anyway, up an' follow me, all right, Brishen? Just a short trip."

The dark gray Eeee lets go of the lamp post and falls, then swoops! up just over the level of the startled Rath'ani proprietor, flapping to gain altitude and speed.

Brishen cups her wings as she drops down from the lightpost, darting just above the tent-tops of the Bazaar. She doesn't spare a glance at the other Eeee, since her ears would tell her more about them anyway.

The other Eeees give up their 'shopping' circles and drop into formation behind and beside Brishen, at a respectable thirty feet distance.

The dark gray Eeee wings over toward Darkside, the area of ramshackle buildings and slums that crawls up against the walls of Rephidim proper, and past most of the buildings to a neighborhood that looks as if it had been abandoned by all but the most desperate, judging from the boarded up windows and cracked walls. Not an area the prosperous would choose to live in.

In a chest tucked near a colorfully-painted bookshelf there's a wooden training sword. Despite the meager protection it'd offer, Brishen wishes she had it with her. For all the times she's been to Darkside, this part makes her shiver. She keeps close to the gray Eeee, wings fluttering a little as she flaps a little above the formation. How quick are they?

The dark gray Eeee sets a moderate pace, and the other Eeees do not seem hard put at all to keep up. Their leader lands just in front of an abandoned cafe, recognizable by the broad window, once glassed, now boarded up, and the broken tables nearby. "Come on in. Perfectly safe," he says. "Our cousin's right in here."

The other two Eeees take up circling.

Brishen wraps her wings around herself as she lands, lightly. "I hope so." And for a moment her voice loses its bubbly edge. "I have a good reputation, even here."

The dark gray Eeee pushes the door open and walks right into the darkness.

Brishen follows the gray Eeee inside, staying close behind him. A hand darts up to brush a lock of hair from her eyes.

There's a slight scraping noise on the far side of the room, difficult for the average fur to hear, but easy for Brishen to pick out. The darkness takes some adjusting to, but it creeps back slowly regardless, a form becoming discernable. A robed figure stands, faced away, his scaley paws clasped behind his back. "Ahh, you've found her, Slater. Good work. Please watch the door, it wouldn't do for our guest to leave early." The reptile turns, eyes glinting from his hood. "Where are Tatter and Shrill?"

Slater grins. "Ah, they're outside keeping a watch. They'll give us a whistle, anything comes up."

Brishen squeaks quietly as her ears grow a shade lighter. Oh, quit it. You knew this was going to come back to haunt you. Might as well see if you can get out of this mess in one piece and on top.

The dark gray bat leans up against the doorframe casually. He takes a small chitin knife and starts using it to pick stuff out between his teeth.

"Very good, very good indeed," hisses the lizard, walking forward. The shadows are deep, but in the light afforded by cracks in the windows, 'Woody' is quite readily recognizable. "We meet again, Brishen. Please, have a seat, we've a few things to catch up on that you didn't have time for back at the shop." He gestures at some leftover cafe tables that haven't suffered overly much with time.

Trembling hands get stuffed into pockets as Brishen walks to the table, her ears more on the Eeee in the doorway than the robed thief in front of her. Thoughts race as she sits down on what might have once been a stool. Her voice is a quiet squeak as she answers, "I guess I was in a bit of a rush."

"Ha, ha! Yes, it seems everyone is in a rush these days, hmmm?" laughs 'Woody' cheerfully. "It's that sort of society we live in, got to scramble if you want to stay with it." Instead of seating himself, he begins strolling around the table casually. "Why were you in such a rush when you saw me, hmmm? Surely you had nothing to be afraid of, with such sound and reliable information as you gave me."

Okay, girl. You know almost nothing about the robes – But he was looking for someone at the Bazaar – and he knows Aaron. There's lots more to this puzzle than what you've seen – Bugs! This will be tough to solve. Brishen smiles hesitantly, her hands clasped on her lap, "I don't know if it was sound. I sort of thought you were someone else."

Woody folds his arms across his chest. "Oh? And just who did you think I was? It probably isn't important. All I know is that the information you supplied was false, and now there's a Zelak with a deathgrip on my tail." He shakes a claw at Brishen in a disapproving manner, a somewhat harsher rasp to his hiss now. "That smells like a double-cross to me."

Brishen reaches up with a trembling hand and brushes a lock of hair from her eyes. "I THOUGHT you were hired by a paranoid client to keep an eye on me. And you ran away from the Guard – There's no Zelak on my tail."

"Of course there's no Zelak on your tail," growls Woody. "Why should they jail an informant? How much did they pay you, anyway? If they sent any more of those fat-bottomed dogs after me, so help me I'll… I'll… " The fuming reptile leaves his sentence incomplete, unsure of quite what measures he'll take.

Big brown eyes blink as Bree tilts her head a little. "I DID get arrested. They just decided that all I was guilty of was helping someone get out of a fire." She smiles cheerily, "That's all you were guilty of too, huh? Getting arrested's a real pain."

The thief snorts. "Hear that, Slater? She's learned what a pain arrest is. A real day-damper, isn't it?" The irritation in Woody's voice is more than evident. He places his paws flat on the table, glaring at his 'guest'. "The fact remains, m'dear, that not only do I have to lie low for a while, but the leads I had before are shot. Those slaves could be leagues from Rephidim by now! With the sheer volume, do you know how hard it is to find particular ones? Do you?"

Slater laughs and nods to the thief. They both know what arrest is likely to do to them.

Brishen swallows, her ears growing a little pale. That was dumb, girl. Try something else! "I do, sort of. It isn't always easy to know who I can trust, here." She swallows again, "In Darkside. Took a long time to figure out who the right people to talk to were."

Woody stands up straight again, one eye wide, and the other narrowed. A classic 'Huh?' expression. "Who to trust? What do /you/ know about Darkside? You look like you just fell off the kyootcumber cart." He waves a paw around in the air. "I mean, look at you! Those clothes stand out almost as much as those Guy Foxes! And that fat satchel you're carrying could have anything in it." Both eyes narrow suspiciously, barely able to be seen in the darkness. "In fact… what have you got in there?"

Brishen frowns slightly. "I know the Missing Shekel isn't far from here. I know that there used to be ten stores on this street. Have your cousins count – I could tell you what's on the next street over, and the one after that." She straightens up slightly. "I know the city pretty well, even Darkside. I've been here enough."

Brishen glances at the gray Eeee. "Your cousins could probably find out just how many times. I do a good job, and it doesn't matter who for."

"Well then… so you know your way around," concedes Woody. He points at Brishen with a lockpick that's somehow meandered into his paw. "And if I need a package delivered, I'll know who to call. However, there's still plenty of folk in Darkside that're willing to sell me up the river, just like you probably did. Knowing your way around doesn't prove anything. Plus, I still don't know what's in that satchel of yours."

Brishen whispers, leaning forward a little. "I'm not the one who walked up to a giggly little courier hanging up posters, and started treating her like an informant. And I TOLD you that I was an honest businesswoman."

Brishen shrugs, sticking her hands in her pockets to keep them from shaking. "As for what's in my satchel – purchase orders. The Bazaar gets its food from somewhere."

The reptile looks taken aback. "Hey! My contact told me the information was to come from someone hanging up posters," he hisses defensively. "Who's insane enough to hang posters in a bazaar that's constantly on the move? It was a sure fire method of identification. Besides, if you weren't the one I was to talk to, you wouldn't have been stringing me along like that."

"I wasn't stringing you along!" Brishen squeaks. "As soon as I found out you were looking for someone else, I left." She sniffs, "And I was hanging posters on walls. On buildings that don't move much."

Woody kicks a chair a few times to be sure it's stable, and flumps into it, rubbing his forehead. "So then… you have the know-how of a courier. You know absolutely nothing about the whereabouts of the specific Savanites I'm hunting for?"

Why's he looking for Savanites? Brishen shrugs faintly. "I don't know. Some of my wealthier customers have servants meet me on the rooftops." She smirks, "It wouldn't do for Lord So-and-so to be seen talking to a courier."

"Well then… perhaps I was mistaken," grumbles the lizard grudgingly. "The Great Serpent only knows how single-minded those witless bugs can be, the one that Jupani sent could be the very same still after me. I can see where a misunderstanding may have occured with our first meeting. And perhaps you really were in a rush back at the Lapi's shop… " He extends one paw, palm up. "If you're not lying about what's in your bag there, you can go free."

Brishen nods, standing as she removes the satchel from her belt. This takes more than a few minutes, but eventually the sturdy bag rests in 'Woody's' hands.

The reptile stirs the contents around with one paw, moving parchment and parcels, giving each title a cursory inspection before nodding slowly. "This seems to check all right. Here's your bag back." The shiga looks rather annoyed, muttering, "Months of work, for nothing."

Brishen straps the satchel to her belt, buckling it up with a series of quick, absent movements which hint at long experience. In a few moments, it's tied snug to her side once more.

Slater looks surprised. He'd been sure something worth a bit was going to happen today.

Brishen thinks about asking Woody for the iron shekel she usually charges for deliveries this far into Darkside, but decides against it. Instead, she glances at Slater, then looks back at the shiga.

"Slater, show miss Brishen to the door," hisses Bambridge with a long, heavy sigh. "Escort her back to Little Babel, and return here for your payment." He stands, gathering his cloak around himself. "I apologize for your inconvenience, courier. This misunderstanding has been very taxing to all involved, I'm sure." The reptile gives his guest a meaningful look. "You do of course realize that if you breathe a single word of this to anyone, Slater, Tatter, and Shrill will be paying you a less pleasant visit."

The dark gray bat steps outside the door and waits, looking a bit disgruntled.

Brishen giggles quietly, a sound that's more than a little creepy in this dark, unpleasant place. "I told you I'm an honest businesswoman. Talking about a customer is not something I do."

Bambridge trudges to the back of the shop, letting the dark envelope him once more. "See that you don't. You may not be concerned with your own well-being, but I'm sure we could find someone you'd wish to keep out of 'accidents'." With a final snort of disgust, he waves the eeees away. "Rephidim has eyes, and they'll be watching."

Brishen's wings rustle slightly as she pauses, halfway to the door. Her voice is quiet as she turns to look at the shiga again. "In the Bazaar there's a very honest merchant. He sells furs – certain kinds of furs." Her eyes are dark as she whispers, "What do you think of him?"

The reptile looks over his shoulder. "'Honest' Abdhul, or 'Honest' Achimed? One's a rag merchant, the other… heh, heh… is out of business."

Brishen nods faintly. "The first one." She tilts her head a little. What are you doing? You made it! This is really, really crazy, girl.

Slater taps his claws on the door frame, leaning in.

Woody scratches his chin. "As far as I'm concerned, Abdhul is to be ignored. He operates a small stand in the bazaar, and deals in shoddy-looking furs. I could find out more about him, probably… but why bother?"

Brishen whispers, her voice a quiet squeak. "Maybe you should tell your cousins they can go." A faint smile is painted across her darkened face. "I think there's something we could talk about, though."

One of the lizard's eyeridges rises. Is this the same eeee that was brought in? "Very well… Slater, tell the others to get in here, you can receive your wages now."

Slater looks a bit startled. "Right-O, cousin," he says. He goes outside and returns a moment later with the other two scruffy-looking bats.

Producing a pouch from somewhere in his robes, Woody counts out the appropriate due, muttering numbers. "… and there's a little extra for the three of you. Keep an ear aimed in my direction, I may need the lot of you again some time, and there'll be some coin in it for you again."

Slater grins. "Yeah, if all your scores pay off that well, count us in next time." He saunters out, followed by Tatter and Shrill.

"Now that all that's taken care of… " The shiga turns back to Brishen, a slight scowl on his face. "In what way can you possibly salvage this night for me?"

Click, click, click. Brishen carefully unbuckles her satchel, removing the list. She smooths it out as she places it on the table: By now, it's covered with scribbled notes, and little crosses next to each address she's visited. "I found this list when I was putting up posters."

Woody's brow furrows enough to almost move his cowl. "What list? Where did you find it?"

Brishen draws a finger along one column, her eyes fixed on the shiga. "I found it in the posters I was putting up. The same day the dragon crashed in the Bazaar." She brushes a lock of hair from her eyes. "I haven't checked all of the addresses here, yet, but all of the names in this column are slaves. Savanites."

The scaley thief's eyes widen, and he takes a few steps toward Brishen. "What?! Let me see that!"

Brishen snatches the list from the table, staring hard at the shiga. "Wait! There's something going on here – something bigger than I am." She takes a step back, "Why are you looking for Savanites?"

Woody stops in his tracks, glowering. "Why should you care? I'd have appreciated knowing about this in the first place, without all this unsavory running around and chasing and mustering of thugs."

Brishen grins cheerily. "I rescued a legless Zelak from a bunch of people who wanted to squish it." She leans forward, a few locks of curly, frazzled hair dropping down over her eyes. "I'M NOT WELL." The Eeee flumphs down on the stool. "I'd never thought about them much, before. Not at all. But I've been thinking about a lot of things, lately."

"You'd best be thinking about showing me this list," sighs the thief. "Time is short, I an agenda to keep. I'd like nothing more than to have a bunch of no-necks wring that list out of you, now that I know you possess what might be my aim. But I'm willing to deal with you. Give me the list, and I'll pay you what I'd originally agreed with my contact."

Brishen glances at the shiga. "I want to know why you're looking for Savanites."

The reptile grinds his teeth. "They're my friends all right?" he grates. "Are you happy? Have you had enough of tempting fate yet?"

Woody waves his arms around in the air. "The big secret's out! Woody's a Savanite hugger! That's right, that weird mutant shiga freak. Now did you feel you really needed to know that?"

Brishen blinks, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, I don't think I'll ever have enough." She sets the list down on the table. "I don't want any money." She bites her lower lip, her eyes flashing as she looks down at the table. "I do want to be a part of this secret. Your secret."

Brishen looks at the shiga. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. And I know the city very, very well."

The rogue snatches the paper from the table, his lower jaw set. "No, you don't," he rasps, grimacing. "What do you think this is? Some sort of game? It's dangerous!"

"Besides, what have you got to do with Savanites?" adds Woody.

Her eyes are dark as she stares down at the list. "I don't know, yet." Brishen brushes a lock of hair from her eyes, glancing at the shiga, "I don't even know what Savanites say when they move their hands."

Woody scratches the frill on his head, puzzled. "Then… what's in it for you? If you don't want money, you're sticking your neck out for nothing."

Brishen shakes her head, squeaking quietly. "I don't know." She looks down at the list. "You're part of something important. You wouldn't have brought me here if you weren't. You wouldn't have told me they were your friends if you weren't more than just a thug."

Brishen blinks once, then again. "Your friends." She looks at the shiga, her eyes getting wide, but doesn't say a word.

"By Dagh… /I/ don't know what I'm part of anymore," mutters the lizard. He neatly folds the sheet of parchment up, tucking it into a pocket for safekeeping. "Yes, they're my friends. I suppose enough rumors have gotten around to where that's not as much a secret as it is an obscure fact. I have to trust you, to a certain extent, because of my own bungling, and if I have to trust you, I might as well make use of you."

The bat smirks faintly, crossing her arms. "That's a start, I guess. I'd hope that I've shown myself to be more than just something to be made use of, though."

The reptile huffs. "I may be forced to trust you, but it's by no means unconditional. I'll be frank when I say that this arrangement bothers me. You've proven yourself competent… now prove yourself an ally to the Wooden Shekel." Bambridge walks toward the doorway, and pauses in it, looking over his shoulder. "I'll be conducting some business in the near future, and I might find your skills handy. I'll be in touch. Talk to no-one of this, not Aaron, not Wynona. Nobody." The Wooden Shekel makes a sweeping gesture for emphasis, hissing, "As far as you're concerned, we've never met. Understood?"

Brishen wraps her wings around herself as she stands, picking her way carefully through the darkness as she walks towards the door. "What manner of strange creature stands before me? A robe? A bit of cloth fluttering in the wind? Nothing to pay any mind towards." She leans close as she passes the shigai, and whispers. "But, they know we've met." She giggles, "I'll think of something, though. I always do."

Brishen giggles quietly as she spreads her wings, and throws herself into the sky.