A small crowd of Savanites are gathered near the recently-finished docks along the Xenean River. A boat is coming ashore, and fingers wiggle with excited variations of the latest news: the impossible has happened, and a brave Shiga has returned from his quest…

Amidst spotted fur and tails, an incongruous dark wing shades the eyes of a slender Eeee from the sun. Perhaps at Pathfinder's urgings, Bree's attire is somewhat calmer than usual; a sand-colored dress that reaches to her knees, decorated here and there with earthen spirals. Well, except for the curious splotches of bright paint along a sleeve. She grins as the boat comes into view, hopping up and down to get a better look.

A gray-cloaked figure stands the bow of the boat, arms crossed in front of himself, a proud bearing matching the laughing eyes of his smooth mirth-mask. River-borne winds stir his cape, and as the boat runs aground, the Wooden Shekel hops down into the wet sand.

A bundled-up cheetah steps out of the boat behind the Wooden Shekel, although it would seem that the bundling is more for a token attempt at hiding, than for keeping unnecessarily warm.

The lizard turns back to the vessel, extending his hand to help the shrouded Savanite down from the craft. "We've made it. You're safe, now."

A tall, brown-robed cheetah steps forward from the crowd. "Welcome back, Wooden Shekel," he signs. To the cheetah companion, he signs, "And to you, welcome to the City of Hands for the first time, Long-Lope."

Long-Lope takes the lizard's proffered hand, and steps out, only nodding in response to the greeting.

Meanwhile, a second lizard – this one shorter, fuzzy, and with bright red scales – darts out to the shore. "Psssst!"

The red lizard, sporting a few semi-mammalian features that identify him as a Kiriga, hisses to the Wooden Shekel, "There was a message for you in Rephidim … an envelope … it felt like it had a shekel in it." Hikaru seems to be oblivious to the goings-on with the gathering, in his haste to inform his master.

Bree brushes a lock of hair away from her muzzle and watches, hopping a bit to no effect. She stares at the back of a tall cheetah warrior, thoughtfully, then furls her wings and sighs, trying to peek around him.

Bambridge bows deeply at the waist before the robed Savanite, but refrains from speaking to him, certain he's more inclined to talk to Long-Lope. Instead, he sidles off to the side to nod at Hikaru. "Is it urgent? You can tell me about it when we get into the city."

Brishen glances towards Long-Lope, then slips through the crowd until she's within a certain Shiga's line of sight. She crosses her arms, smiling faintly.

Hikaru hisses, "The letter is still back in Rephidim, sorry. I've no idea what it's about … only that it's 'urgent'."

"Well, do you at least know who it's from? I… hey… " The Wooden Shekel stops in mid-sentence, looking away from his lackey at Brishen. The expression behind his mask is understandably difficult to read, but he starts making his way toward the bat.

Brishen spreads her wings, slightly, as she walks towards the Shiga. Her smile grows a little. "Hi."

In the background, the brown-robed cheetah priest is escorting Long-Lope away from the shore, while a couple of cheetahs quickly secure the boat and unload some supplies.

The reptile's voice is strained. "You! What're you doing here? Where's Pathfinder?!"

Brishen leans forward, slightly, and blinks. "You didn't know? She's here, her family too."

Relief causes the reptile's shoulders to slump. "Oh, thank the Serpent… No, I didn't know. I've been gone ever since I received your message from Rephidim. I wanted to go straight there, but there was an even more pressing emergency."

Brishen rests a hand on her forehead, the furling of her wings shadowing the Shiga's relief. "Everything fell apart." She shakes her head, once. "Anyway, they're all safe. Even Kame Ikata, which is strange, because I thought he was dead. But he's here, too."

Suddenly, in a flurry of golden spots, the lizard is wrapped up in a hug by a matronly-looking cheetah, and surrounded by seven others (who are noticeably younger). Lots of ears wiggle.

Brishen laughs and takes a step back. "Surprise."

"It did? I warned y – Pathfinder! And the cubs!" The reptile laughs, and finally removes his mask, letting it fall to the sand so he can hug back. The delight on his face is genuine, now… and mixed with a little disbelief and confusion when he glances at Brishen for a moment. "By the Serpent's Scutes, it's great to see you all! I was worried sick! What happened, how'd you get here?"

Brishen grins, peeking in at the Wooden Shekel from between a pair of Pathfinder's cubs. "It's a long story. Envoy helped a lot, and we were able to get a hold of enough of your friends that everything turned out alright. Oh, and I was exiled, sort of. I don't mind, though. It's fun!"

The lizard's look is incredulous. "Envoy helped you?! I suppose the next thing you're going to tell me is that Bridge Officer Nimiss was baking muffins to finance the trip!"

Pathfinder signs, "We escaped through a secret passage underneath the Embassy. Kame Ikata used to live there … and showed these passages to Envoy. We traveled through the tunnels and came out in Darkside, where your people took us the rest of the way here."

Brishen glances at Pathfinder. "And here I was going to insist that the Bridge Officer had indeed baked muffins. Hmf."

Brishen wiggles her fingers, grinning. "I can't imagine him in an apron, though."

Bambridge frees his hands up to usher the group toward the gates of the city, allowing him to sign between tousling the hair of any cubs that stray near him, pausing only to retrieve his mask. "Truly a stroke of good fortune… but then, how did Brishen get exiled?"

Pathfinder signs, "The Temple persecuted the Ambassador, having grudges against Babel for the war."

Brishen ducks her head, slightly. "I didn't do much to earn the Temple's love, that's for sure. I don't want it, though."

"I see… but instead of fleeing, you kept helping Pathfinder?" The Shiga pauses, as if in thought … and to keep his fingers busy, he puts his laughing mask on whichever cub gets too close to him. " Maybe I misjudged you, Kara."

Brishen keeps her eyes on her hands. "Everything happened the way it had to happen. If I had done anything else, I would have – I would have been like my cousin. I had nightmares about that." She shakes her head, her smile returning. "Sometimes the right way isn't the easiest way."

Pathfinder puts an arm around the Wooden Shekel, and signs with her free hand, "On to my house for nourishment and rest?"

Brishen grins. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!"

Bambridge nods at Brishen. "You have my gratitude, then, Brishen. Should you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." His face brightens up, and he grins at Pathfinder. crooking a finger by his head to mimic ear-wiggling. "After nothing but yiffles for a month, I could eat a home-cooked Dromodon."

The cottage of Pathfinder has Nordikan influences in its design, a testament to the different nationalities that the citizens of the City of Hands have come from … though, really, the Wooden Shekel never heard of any slaves being found in the far northern regions. Although the house is large enough for Pathfinder and her entire brood, her "cubs" are not really so anymore, and many of them have homes of their own elsewhere in the City and the outlying areas. Still, this is the undisputed gathering place of this recently-freed family, and tonight a special meal is being cooked up for two special guests. Well, three, actually. That strange painter Savanite has dropped in again.

"More Bromthen?" signs one of Pathfinder's daughters.

"Don't forget to save room for the truffle!" signs Pathfinder.

Brishen looks down at her stomach and squeaks. "I don't know if I can fit Any more food in me. I haven't had this much to eat in months!"

The painter Savanite has hardly touched a thing. Well, not exactly. He occasionally dips his brush into a pile of bugs he's scooped onto his place, and dabs with it on his canvas. The easel is positioned such that his project can't be viewed from this angle, though. Not without getting up and standing behind the strange cheetah to see.

Brishen cranes her neck a little, then stops and looks down at her plate. A few slices of Bromthen and a handful of bugs look back at her. In the case of the bugs, this is almost literal.

Pathfinder signs, "So … are you finally going to settle down now? Or are you about to whisk off to adventures in strange places again?"

Colors swim over Bambridge's skin as he daubs at a corner of his mouth with a napkin. "Oof! I'll have to have my cohorts roll me from job to job after this. Scrumptious, my dear… Ah, truffles? I might be able to fit a few and still fit in my harness afterwards." He peers at Kame's work in progress. "Brishen, or me? I'm sure we've both got agendas… "

Brishen pops one last bug into her mouth, then nudges the rest towards Kame. "I don't know how long I – " She looks over at the Shiga. "I don't think I'll be settling down. Not – not for a long time."

Pathfinder presses the question. "Well, if not … then what is next in your plans? You seem to have traveled most the world already, if I understand correctly."

The bug pushed onto Kame's plate quickly joins the multi-colored mush that he's using as his palette.

Brishen blinks. "I – " She's quiet for a very long time, then looks at Pathfinder and each of her children in turn. Finally, she whispers, "I'm not sure, yet."

Pathfinder looks concerned. "You seem to want to go somewhere. Are there any choices on the list?"

The Wooden Shekel, mostly still up until now, moves his hands again. "Actually, Brishen… there is something I'd really appreciate… and maybe it'd give you a chance to do something you've wanted to as well. When's the last time you've been able to visit Ashdod?"

Brishen takes a deep breath. "I – " She turns to look at the Wooden Shekel. "I haven't been there since I k – Since the Sabaoth died."

"You know the place better than I, I'd imagine," signs the lizard, leaning back in his chair slightly. He gives Pathfinder a long look before continuing soberly. "Creen-Caller is there."

Pathfinder nods, her mouth tight.

Brishen nods, slowly. "A bit. Not as well as Rephidim, but enough, I hope."

Bambridge hurries on before he can stop himself. "I know it's a lot to ask, after what you've done for the Tear already, but… Creen-Caller is Pathfinder's husband. He's one of the tribesmen that were taken from us all those years ago. My leads have informed me he's in Ashdod. Is there… anything you can do? I'd be more than willing to reimburse you in whatever way I can."

Brishen smiles, weakly. "I'll go with you. You didn't have to ask. But – " She takes a deep breath, and then her words tumble over each other as she rushes to say what must be said, "Degarde is in Ashdod. He's looking for Reico. I – I made a promise to him that I wouldn't go to Ashdod." She blinks, once. "But I have to. I have to tell him that he doesn't need to look for him, anymore." Her voice carries the edge of tears.

Brishen blinks again, then shakes her head. "All I ask is that I have the chance to tell him."

"Of course. Anything you need to do in Ashdod, do. Degarde is your aide, isn't he?" The Wooden Shekel tilts his head slightly, his signs slowing a little. "What happened? Is there danger waiting for you in Ashdod? I didn't know if there were political repercussions for you to deal with… I can't ask you to risk your life, if that's the situation."

Pathfinder signs, "Mistress Kara has many enemies … some of them in her own family. Her wicked cousin helped to engineer her expulsion from Rephidim, I am certain. One of her cousin's lackeys was put into position as the new ambassador."

"It could be dangerous to return to Babel," Pathfinder signs. "There are those who could see opportunity in her misfortune."

Brishen bites her lower lip. "It will be dangerous, if I go there as Brishen Kara."

Brishen shrugs, faintly. "I may still have supporters in the city, but I've been gone for long enough now that a lot of people think I'm dead. It isn't something that can be counted on."

The Wooden Shekel taps the pads of his fingers together thoughtfully before using them to sign again. "Yes, it'd be too dangerous. However… if it's imperative that you speak with Degarde anyway, perhaps another Eeee, who only looks slightly similar to you, could do the job."

Brishen shakes her head, "It's dangerous, but I won't have anyone else take my place." Then, after a moment, she smiles. "Besides, I don't think anyone will recognize me."

"That's the idea," replies the Wooden Shekel. "Disguise isn't just a matter of dying your fur and wearing new clothes. Perhaps my agents can arrange some documents for your new identity, along with a temporary residence in Ashdod. You might have to have your own income, but I'd help in whatever way I could."

Pathfinder volunteers, "I will work on sewing up some new clothes for you, Mistress Kara!" She looks to one of her daughters. "And I'll have help."

Brishen nods, ears canted forward. "I wouldn't mind some help with color – I can't see any."

Brishen grins at Pathfinder. "You can help me, too!" There's a pause, then, "Please don't call me 'mistress'."

Bambridge nods, "I've got some experience with disguise; perhaps I can help you with the color part. I should see the Priest-Queen soon, though … for my debriefing."

Brishen looks back and forth, from Pathfinder to the Wooden Shekel. "Oh! Well, I've gotten pretty good with disguises, but I could still use the help!" She grins, "A new identity – ? Wow."

The Wooden Shekel leans forward, looking for all the world as if someone just lifted a great weight off his shoulders. His paws rest on the table for a bit, before signing, "Well… it's settled then! I… I hope whatever news is waiting for you in Ashdod is good."

Brishen nods. "I do as well." Then, she sighs quietly, "But Babel is not a small city – It's important we find Creen-Caller first. If I have to stay behind to find Degarde, I will."

"I'll leave it up to you… I won't presume to understand how Babelite politics work." The Wooden Shekel leans back again, pausing to pop a scrap of Bromthen hog into his mouth. "Just let me know whatever you need, and I'll do my best to get it."

Brishen nods, then tilts her head. "I don't think anyone understands how it works."

The rest of the meal goes by fairly uneventfully. At last, it's time to clean up, the artist heads out with his easel, and Brishen is offered a place to stay for the night.

Rather than meeting the Wooden Shekel in the 'throne room' of the palace, Priest-Queen Third-Vision receives the Shiga in her private quarters. On his way in, though, the Shiga can see that things have changed. For starters, the idols that once rimmed the court are now gone … save for a few bits of rubble about the broken pedestals.

Third-Vision reclines on a pile of pillows, looking mildly perturbed about something.

The Wooden Shekel enters, and kneels, his new gray cloak settling around him. "Priest-Queen."

Third-Vision breaks out of her musings and nods to the Shiga, gesturing for him to be seated. (There are plenty of cushions to choose from.) "Thank you for all you've done," she signs solemnly.

Bambridge finds a promising cushion, pulling his hood back. Once his hands are free, he signs in reply. "I get the impression that there are still things amiss. How is Long-Lope? We didn't talk much, even during the time I had to hide her to get her back here."

Third-Vision scowls as she signs, "Long-Lope is grateful to you to be alive, but she respectfully declines my offer to stay here at the City of Hands. She signs that she would far prefer her status as a slave in Rephidim than to be a subject of mine."

The Wooden Shekel shrugs helplessly, and shakes his head. "Would that I could help in that regard, your Highness. How does she propose to go back to Rephidim anyway? The Emperor-Potentate has surely marked her for death by now … and I'd wager the only place she'd be safe would be here."

Third-Vision shakes her head. "Logic isn't part of this. She'll remain our guest for a time, until a solution can be thought of. But the homecoming has been thoroughly spoiled, and this has played right into the hands of my detractors."

A noticeable wince passes through the Shiga. "That was the other thing I was going to ask… how goes it with the Twelve? I noticed the statues were demolished, and one of the Twelve came to greet us when we arrived, so it can't be all bad… can it? "

Third-Vision signs, "The Twelve are those most loyal to me. The larger group of the Twelve-times-Twelve are harder to manage. But I should not burden you with my concerns. You have done the impossible, and brought my sister back from what would have been certain death. I have not enough hands to sign how grateful I am for that."

Bambridge raises a paw a little, looking away for a second. "I'll never be able to repay my silent brothers and sisters for the life they gave me in the Savan all those years ago. Think nothing of it. I'm happy to help in whatever ways I can. What do you plan to do about this borderline insurrection?"

Third-Vision signs, "I showed weakness by not responding immediately. I believe that the Twelve-times-Twelve, in their own way, meant to aid me … but the palm of it is that they did not so much as consult me before undertaking such an initiative. I am Priest-Queen, and now people are reminded of that. Of what deity or deities am I priestess? The idols have been removed, but not the reminder of our divisions."

"I have been studying the ways of the old Savanite Empire, to see what the original Priest-King represented." Third-Vision frowns. "So far, it does not help. So far as I can tell, the texts describing worship may mention 'gods', but they are little more than fairies or benevolent spirits, as far as their place in worship goes. And the Star is just a force of some sort, without identity."

Third-Vision signs, "No, the object of worship was magic itself … as embodied by the most celebrated and powerful magic user of the realm, the Priest-King. He was called 'priest', yet was the object of worship as well. I believe the Twelve-times-Twelve meant to slowly guide the People toward this goal."

Third-Vision explains, "One of the idols looked like me, and shared the Sphere of Spirit. I believe they wished to slowly introduce 'mysteries' of my 'deity' … and to stage demonstrations of my 'power' with their help."

"I take it you consider such deism of magic to be … archaic?" The reptile scrunches up his brow uncertainly. "I have to admit having little or no real understanding of theology, as it applies here, but it seems to me that worshipping magic, in the old days, was more like paying respect to the shaman that lead the tribe. The Dusty Tear is lead by Weeping-Blue, and he's a water-shaman. He provided for the tribe in ways only he could, and was, of course, respected for it. But… does it apply in a nation unified? I don't know if spiritual fulfillment can be had this way either."

"To be honest … I do not know, either," signs Third-Vision. "Once, I was a shaman, in the truest sense. The beliefs of our tribe were nothing organized to be called a 'religion'. We believed in spirits and creatures that affected things … or, that is, my tribesmen believed in such. I had too much power to create 'spirits' to awe the others, to believe in anything real beyond them." Third-Vision shakes her head. "Since then, I have refined my sense of what is right and wrong … but I do not know with certainty what I truly believe. I am not ready to be a priestess to these people."

The Wooden Shekel nods slowly, looking at his own paws as if they might tell him what to sign. Perhaps it works, because they start moving again. "To be honest, I never thought about it much myself. I swear by the Great Serpent, but often that was just a habit to blend in with Nagai culture. Since then, my life hasn't been guided so much by religion as it has been by principles." He looks up again. "Perhaps my principles aren't the most… scrupulous. But perhaps you can find some method here. Much of what guides religion is philosophy… and as a spiritual leader, you're called along to guide your followers by demonstration… by professing and upholding principles you believe in. The actual god might have less to do with it than you think."

"Perhaps," signs Third-Vision. "That may well be in line with the way of the old Savanite Empire. But I will need some sort of standard. Without it, morality will be defined by the whims of whomever is in the throne." She shakes her head. "I have much to consider. And I thank you for your advice. Now then … is there any way I can repay you for your help? For rescuing my sister?"

The Wooden Shekel shakes his head. "You have enough to worry about without me seeking favors. Respite within the City for a while would be fine. I'm almost afraid to leave it, with the current turmoil, though I'm not sure what I could do. As for finding that standard… perhaps a name for your school of thought, underscored by the freedom to worship as one saw fit, would be workable? A practice that your sages can begin teaching."

Third-Vision nods. "Perhaps. Perhaps it is time to separate the offices of Priest and King, at least in this stage in the rebirth of our City." She frowns uncertainly.

"That would be a bold step… As far as I know, the position of Priest-King has stood for ages." The Shiga tilts his head slightly. "Do you know of a candidate for the spiritual part?"

Third-Vision smiles for a moment, then shakes her head. "No. Not immediately. But I will be considering this. You have given me much to think about. Thank you."