Several cheetahs (and a smattering of reptilian Jingai) are gathered near the banks of the Xenean River that runs through the depths of the canyon. They watch as a ferry makes its way up the river, passing under the natural rock bridge that spans the canyon a considerable distance above. It's a familiar ferry, as the falls at various points along the river make it impractical for any one water-borne vessel to make the entire trip up the Xenean River … but rumor has it that the passenger coming up-river this time from Safar is far from ordinary.

A young woman, an Eeee by the wings cupped slightly to shield her eyes from the sun, stands at the edge of the ferry. Her fur has grown lighter, perhaps, but enough remains of the former ambassador to Rephidim to show she is Brishen. She seems to have adapted well to her settings, her attire scant enough to preserve her modesty. A familiar satchel rests at her side.

The ferry is poled to shore by a four-armed lizard – a Rokuga, so-named not truly to indicate his race, but by the fact that he has a total of six limbs, whether they be legs, arms, or wings, and any combination thereof. As most of the four-armed variety in these parts, he is well-muscled for a lizard, and the raft comes to ground despite the opposing rush of the river.

A robed cheetah steps forth from the assembled audience, bowing to the former ambassador.

Brishen glances towards the shore, then crouches slightly, offering the lift she'll need as she jumps to float over the water and neatly land. On land that does not move for once, she returns the bow, stretching her wings behind her in solemn arcs.

The robed cheetah bows to Brishen. "Welcome to the City of Hands. Would that your return could be under more pleasant circumstances, but the Priest-Queen hopes that your stay will be enjoyable, and that you would take the time to visit her at the Palace."

Brishen brushes a lock of hair away from her muzzle. Her wings furl loosely behind her as she nods. "Thank you. There is a great deal I suspect I will need to talk to the Queen about."

A bright green Shiga skitters up to Brishen and says, "Have you any baggage to be carried, madame?"

The robed cheetah signs, "The Priest-Queen will be glad to make time for you, Creen's-Nightsong. Your noble sacrifice is greatly admired here. I would be more than happy to escort you to the Palace immediately, or to find you accommodations so you may rest up from your journey first – whichever is to your liking."

Brishen's wings rustle as she shoulders her satchel, smiling at the shiga. A hand darts in a cheery loop in front of her, drawing the eye to her satchel, then to the Eeee holding it. "Thanks, but I think I'll survive a few more steps on my own." She smiles, then turns to look at the robed cheetah. "I think I'd like to go to the Palace. If I fall asleep now, I probably won't wake up again for a few days."

The robed cheetah bows again, then leads Brishen away from the ferry, up to a tiled road that winds its way side to side, up and down through the City of Hands. Much work has been done since the last time Brishen saw it, yet so much yet remains – and perhaps some of the ancient ruins will always be left as such, as some sort of reminder of the past. The way leads Brishen to a covered archway, the interior lined with hieroglyphs and scenes from the glory days of the City of Hands' earliest times, and then the former ambassador is led into the circular courtyard which surrounds the palace.

There are twelve new additions of note since Brishen's last arrival, to be seen along the perimeter of the courtyard: twelve statues, several times larger than life, of male and female cheetahs, evenly divided between the two genders. Each one is attired differently, carrying different accessories, and each one has hands formed into signs that seem to indicate their names. "Sun-Lord" seems to be the most magnificent of the twelve … while the one statue directly opposite, with signs of "Night-Veil", looks eerily like the Priest-Queen herself.

Brishen spends much of her time along the way looking up, up – To mark the heights of buildings, to note where one with wings could rest. Her eyes widen a little as she looks at each statue in turn. Perhaps, also, where one may not.

Brishen is led up the steps to one of the entrances to the palace, five towers stretching high overhead to resemble fingers grasping for the sky … but they are soon out of view, as the small party heads inside. At last, they reach the familiar, large audience chamber, still under the blind gaze of the robed cheetah "Templars" – an odd contrast to the pantheon of deities to be seen outside in the court.

Inside the chamber, a black Khatta sits near the Queen, looking somewhat tired, but not overly so. He seems to be conferring with the royal cheetah nearby about various dealings.

Brishen takes a deep breath as she passes the blind Templars. It wasn't long ago that she sat in the same hall, as someone else. The thought does not appear to disconcert her, however, and her footsteps whisper as she straightens under the gaze of stone. She smiles, faintly.

Third-Vision signs to the black Khatta, "Unlucky One, I regret having ever drawn you into this. I fear that a part of you may have been destroyed. But there are few that I might trust as much or more than yourself. The Artifact has resisted the efforts of the Twelve to destroy it. We cannot risk the danger should the Artifact fall into the hands of anyone with the will capable of mastering it."

Brishen lowers her eyes, slightly, averting her gaze from the hands of the Priest-Queen.

The feline indicated as Unlucky-One, all sober faced, sighs, but nods. "I was the one who dragged you into this my queen, and I apologize for putting your people at such risk." He pauses, then looks up to her with a forced smile, Besides, your people have always been kind to me, and I accept what I must do."

Third-Vision nods, then signs, "Have you any notions as to what might be done with the Artifact? Even with the advice of the Twelve, I suspect you yet know far more about it than myself."

Brishen blinks a few times, then fixes bright brown eyes on the Unlucky One. She recognizes that Khatta! Her wings spread unevenly as she stares for a moment, her eyes wide, shocked. Her mouth opens slightly, then closes again. ( It's him! How did he – ) She glances up towards the ceiling, to the Procession unseen above. ( Every day, it all gets a little stranger. )

"I'm not sure, " the Khatta signs with a grimace, "If the Twelve couldn't destroy it, I don't see how I could, they have much more power than I. For years it was just hidden away, that may be our only option. Or perhaps the only way to destroy it is to use the artifact itself," he shudders at this, "but I-" He stops abruptly as he notices the newly arrived bat, not sure if Third-Vision wants the public to hear this. Wait a minute, that Eeee seems… familiar?

Third-Vision seems to intent on the subject at hand to be wary of "eavesdropping" bats. She signs, "Outright destruction has failed, yes. But you have faced the Artifact and come forth … hopefully the stronger for the struggle. Our hope may be in that this, being a magical artifact, may lose its power in a place where magic ceases to work … or where magic becomes unstable. There are few places known to fit such a description."

"One of those was in the Beast-Lands … and quite obviously that would do no good," the Priest-Queen signs.

Brishen blinks a few times. Between the bizarre return of the Unlucky One and what the hands of the Priest-Queen paint in the air, she can do little more than squeak.

Jynx looks away from the bat for the moment, returning his attention to the Priest-Queen, "I'm not sure who the stronger in the struggle was. The artifact nearly claimed my mind." He twitches his whiskers, "Where are other places you spea-" He is cut off, and turns his eyes once again to the bat.

Third-Vision at last turns to face Brishen, and rests her hands for a moment as she composes her face. Adopting a more regal expression, she nods, signing to Brishen, "Welcome to the City of Hands, Creen's-Night-Song." She then claps her hands for the servants, who come forth bearing trays of candied bugs and cups of nectar. It isn't up to Babelite standards, but probably the best that can be managed in the jungle.

Brishen draws her eyes away from the Khatta with the greatest effort, fighting off the questions for now as she rests her eyes on the Queen. She takes a deep breath and bows, "Thank you. It's – good to be here after a long and strange journey." It's probably good that she can speak with her hands, since after an instant a candied bug has been popped into her mouth.

Third-Vision turns to Jynx, signing, "This is Creen's-Night-Song, former ambassador of Babel – that is, the capitol of Ashdod – to Rephidim. Alas, she has been persecuted by the Temple, and finally banished for aiding nine of our people to escape the floating city."

Realization dawns on the ebon feline, and his eyes go wide at Brishen, "Ah!" He says aloud, quickly putting a paw to his mouth to recover from the faux-pau. "Y-yes, I think we have met before," he nods to the Eeee, remembering that their last encounter wasn't so pleasant.

Brishen tilts her head slightly. Nine? Her hands loop and dart before her. "There were eight from the Embassy. I – " She looks at the Khatta again, then blinks. "I opened the door, but there's much that happened afterwards that I had little part in. Who did – Are they well?"

Brishen looks down at her hands, gathering her thoughts, then quickly adds. "Is Envoy safe?"

Third-Vision's expression sombers, as she nods and signs, "The Exile played a part in the escape from Rephidim. To my knowledge, she remains free in the floating city."

"Envoy?" The black Khatta looks at the Eeee with a small smile, "You must get around quite a bit to know so many."

Third-Vision signs, "The Exile seems to know everyone."

Brishen nods, grinning a little at the Khatta, then slumps a bit, setting her heavy satchel down on the floor. "I haven't spoken to her since I left Rephidim. The Temple had – business with me, the day the nine escaped." She pauses, furrowing her brow. "Sometimes it surprises me how many people she knows. I – " A thought tickles the back of an ear again. "But who is the ninth one? There were eight in the Embassy."

Third-Vision signs, "Pathfinder and her children escaped, as well as Oilcloud the artist." Third-Vision pauses, then signs, "In his phonetic slave name, he would be known as 'Kame Ikata'."

Jynx's ears perk, "Ikata? the crazy artist?" he grins, "I'm not sure how I feel about him running around. Are all the escapees here now?"

Brishen's eyes get very wide, then narrow again. Then she laughs, a bright clear sound that echoes from the stone. "I've seen some of his paintings. I – " Her hands flutter as she grins, "My hands aren't swift enough for all of the questions I have."

Third-Vision signs, "Pathfinder and her family are here. I believe the Wooden Shekel may intend to find her husband in Babel. As for Oilcloud … his whereabouts are anyone's guess. He is wild, like a young Creen."

Brishen straightens abruptly. She squeaks as she looks from her hands to the Priest-Queen and back again. "In Babel – ?" She drops to a knee, her brow furrowing as she watches her hands intently. "I would ask your leave to go with him. There are places in Babel where my wings may be of use. And I'm – not unfamilar with the city. I want to help."

The black Khatta watches the bat curiously, still not getting the whole picture of why she's here just yet. He remains silent, watching the conversation.

"You need not my leave, Creen's-Night-Song. As for the Wooden Shekel, he is not here in the City of Hands. He is the one with which you would need to confer about such a thing," the Priest-Queen signs.

Brishen nods, lowering her head for a moment, then slowly stands. "It's probably better that he is not here. There are two dear to me in Babel, one in search of the other. I don't know if I could keep that knowledge from clouding my flight." She sighs faintly, then nods to herself. "When the Wooden Shekel returns, I'll ask him."

Brishen smiles, ever-so-slightly. "There are many reasons now to return to the city I once called home."

"You know the Wooden Shekel as well?" Jynx peers at the bat in confusion. Must be a small world after all. "I had a run in with him not too long ago, I hope that he is alright."

Third-Vision signs, "The former ambassador seems to think the Wooden Shekel is quite a good cook."

Brishen grins at the Unlucky One. "He's my inadvertent mentor. Though I'm not sure how well he can cook after all. It's not something I've asked. We share a taste for honeyed locusts."

"My misunderstanding," Third-Vision signs. "But then, that message was quite puzzling. Only by a fortunate twist of fate did it find its way to the intended recipient."

The black Khatta grimaces at this, "Well, I'm sure they're quite… good." He fights back a gag at the thought, then regards the bat again. "By the way, I hope that you still don't wish me as a prisoner," he grins, then turns back to watch Third-Vision. "Message?"

Third-Vision blinks several times at the black Khatta, then signs, "Prisoner? What are these signs?"

Jynx sets his ears back in embarassment, not meaning for the comment to be takenm seriously. "Well… its just that the former ambassador and I… didn't meet on the friendliest of terms."

Third-Vision raises an eyebrow. "Should I not ask?"

Brishen tilts her head slightly. "I had worried about that, but the message was sent at a time when I wasn't sure if my official correspondence was being read by someone other than who I had intended." She blinks at the Unlucky One. "No. I didn't even want you as a prisoner then! You – Near the Embassy wall was not a good place to be that night."

The black Khatta simply nods. "With the recent events in my life, much of that night is long forgotten in comparison." He gives a smile, "I hope that we can start over."

Third-Vision just shakes her head, losing the battle to try to keep up with any of this.

Brishen's smile is radiant as she bows, her wings held out in crescents behind her. "I do as well. My name is Creen's Nightsong. I have many others, but that is the one that's true."

Jynx gives a sitting bow to the bat, "Around here, I am known as 'Unlucky-One'," he shrugs with a small smile. "And I believe we can let bygones be bygones. After all," he turns a grin to the Priest-Queen, "I didn't meet her majesty on such good terms either!"

The Priest-Queen's ears blush an ever-so-slight shade. She signs, "So … to what do we owe the pleasure of your company here in the City of Hands, Creen's-Night-Song?"

Brishen looks at her hands for a long while, then signs carefully. "A long time ago I met someone caught up in something I didn't really understand, something larger than myself, than the world I had known. I made a choice then, for reasons that weren't the right ones." She takes a deep breath, "A lot has happened since then and I'm not the same person I once was."

The Priest-Queen nods, signing nothing at this time.

Brishen smiles. "I'm here because I want to offer my wings to free the people of the Savan. You have one who walks the shadows. Perhaps you can have one who watches from the sky as well."

"That is most generous. Your offer is well-received. You have demonstrated your willingness to risk yourself for the sake of our people. I shall see that those with contacts in the Underground are made aware of your presence here," the Priest-Queen signs.

The Priest-Queen turns to Jynx. "In any case, regarding what we were discussing earlier … it would seem that there are few choices worthy of consideration. Bosch is one. I need say little about that option. The Red Cliffs of the Himar may be another. There is a third place I happen to know of … accessible via a place in the Himaat. A good friend of mine is in that realm now, in a place where the enchantments of the best of my seers cannot track his movements. And then, there is the land of Aeztepa. But that would be a journey with no hope of return."

Brishen bows, deeply. "Thank you. I – " She closes her eyes for a moment, then continues. "There is one thing I ask in return. It is what I asked of Pathfinder and her children. It is what I ask, here."

The black Khatta smiles at the bat, "Its always good to have some one along, I rather enjoy it here myself." He holds his smile for a bit, then lets it fade into a frown as he turns to Third-Eye, "No hope of return may be the best option, if it gets rid of the artifact, but I'm not knowledgeable about such areas, I've only really dealt with Bosch before, and only from a distance."

Third-Vision signs, "Bosch is a wretched place, where magic has gone wild. It is a theory that such a thing as the Artifact might destroy itself in such a place … or else that the Artifact would be far beyond the reach of anyone who might be power-hungry enough to seek after it. The temptations and insanities of Bosch would surely finish off such a person long before they might find the Artifact, let alone master its powers."

The Priest-Queen signs, "Aeztepa is similar … If the Artifact were taken there, it may be assumed that it would never be seen again … simply because nothing comes out of that land. Nothing that is part of the realm of the living, that is."

"But what about Bosch itself?" Jynx frowns, "From what I've learned, it is a chaotic place. Could it or its inhabitants use the artifact to their own ends as well?"

The Priest-Queen signs, "The nature of its inhabitants is such that they would surely destroy themselves in the process. I do not understand all the reasons why. I only go by the advice of the Twelve-times-Twelve. The denizens of Bosch are composed of magic, in whole or in part. The Artifact deals only with a wielder who is truly living – not undead or a magical construct."

The black Khatta nods, thinking on this. "And what of Aeztepa? How similar is it to Bosch?" Ths cat doesn't ask about himself as well, and whether or not he could even get the artifact to its destinaton without losing his sanity.

"As for the Red Cliffs … it is rumored that magic does not work as well there. But it is an easily accessible place. As for the fourth option I know of," signs Third-Vision, "that would be Abaddon. I know not just how it is to be reached, only that my scryers followed the path of the Redeemer of Shadows into a Forbidden Zone in the Himaat … and from there, they suddenly detected him in a world beyond the Procession. Abaddon, it is said, as impossible as it sounds."

Brishen watches the dance of hands, valiantly attempting to understand half of what she sees.

"But I apologize for digressing," signs Third-Vision. "Aeztepa is the place of the Queen of the Dead." The Priest-Queen frowns severely. "Necropolis. She is the mother of the most powerful of ghosts and ghouls, and the patron of necromancers. It is a place of death and despair."

Jynx blinks at this, "Abaddon? How can he be on a point in the sky?" The feline shakes his head, and stows that thought away for now. "Then perhaps Aeztepa should be our destination, and with the most haste." The Khatta's ears droop, "I have seen the affect it has on people here who get near it, and apologize for bringing it here and involving you in this."

"Aeztepa would not be my first choice for you, Unlucky One," signs Third-Vision. "I do not think that even your peculiar luck – if it be called that – would see you through. Worse, I would fear that you might return … but only in body, not in spirit. And a body resurrected by foul means, at that."

Brishen shudders faintly. As much as Amaranth turned out to be something of a fraud, she doesn't like the idea of something dead emerging from the grave to exact its revenge upon the living. She shakes her head, once.

The feline sets his ears back, "Then which would you recommend? It must be completely unaccessable to the outside world."

"The Red Cliffs would be the easiest of quests … but the least likely to yield any success, and to present the highest risk of the Artifact falling into another's hands. The Red Cliffs, as you may know, are laden with precious metals, and already the fighting has begun over this land. By the time this has cleared, iron may be worth half as much as it was before. Looters might be as inclined to go for an Artifact capable of granting wishes as well," signs the Priest-Queen. "Bosch and Aeztepa seem the most final of solutions … but suicidal as well. Abaddon is an intriguing option … but it is a great unknown. And the Redeemer of Shadows has not returned. It may be a trip with only one way to go."

"Whether I come back or not is irrelevant," signs Jynx in response. "If the wrong person gets their hands on this thing, there might not even be anything to come back to." The feline sighs, "Perhaps a one way trip would be the best option after all, and on Abaddon, it would be far, far away."

Brishen crunches quietly on a candied grasshopper as she watches, fascinated.

"All that I can give you for this quest, Unlucky One, is a map drawn to the best ability of my scryers, of the path they believe the Redeemer of Shadows followed, to leave this world. What he did at the end of this journey is unknown, though it took place in the heart of a Forbidden Zone … one which was believed to destroy any who dared to venture inside. It would seem that the long-believed legends were but myths," signs the Priest-Queen. She snaps her fingers for a servant, who brings a bone scroll-case. She hands the scroll-case to the black Khatta. "For you to undertake such a quest is no small thing. To the best of my ability, whatever you ask for your journey, I can provide. But we are entering a time of conflict. Transportation can be provided, but your journey may well be alone." Third-Vision frowns sadly.

"Knowing the properties of the Artifact … that may be for the best," signs Third-Vision.

The black Khatta takes the scroll with a bow from the Priest-Queen, and fights to keep from showing any emotion. "Yes, perhaps it would be. I thank you for all the help you can give me." He unfurls the scroll and peers at it. "I'm just one cat, and thw world won't miss me after all."

Brishen glances at the Khatta, the Unlucky One. She sighs faintly. "I will go with the Unlucky One. There are journeys one should not take alone, and I – It may not be wise for me to go to Babel. My face is – still familiar to many there."

Brishen smiles at the Unlucky One. "It would be quite a new beginning, wouldn't it?"

Jynx blinks in surprise, this was unexpected! He looks at the bat curiously for a long while. "I can't ask you to come along with me! I probably won't be coming back!" He looks at Third-Vision, "Tell her she's crazy!"

Third-Vision frowns. "Whatever you do, Unlucky One … do not think that you will not be missed. The City of Hands needs as many heroes as it can find." The Priest-Queen looks to Brishen. "That is not my place to sign, Unlucky One. It is your quest."

The Khatta sighs, and turns back to Brishen. "I can't stop you from going along, but you're not all aware of what you're getting yourself into." He pauses, "Chances are, I won't be coming back, if I survive at all. And if I do survive, there's no guarantee that my mind witll still be intact, nor the minds and lives of those who come with me. Do you still wish to go?"

Brishen smiles. She almost crosses her arms, before remembering that she sort of needs the hands attached to the ends of them. "I can't call either Babel or Rephidim my home any longer. But maybe there is a new beginning for me here, in the City of Hands. Before I came here I asked Pathfinder for one thing. The only thing I ask from anyone – " She shakes her head. "I learned a long time ago that there are things that are more important than my own life. I won't go back on that."

Jynx grimaces, "I think of this place as home too, but I may not even be here long, and if you come with me, you won't get a chance to make a new beginning, not here at least. But if that's the way you feel, then I won't stop you."

Brishen sighs quietly. "I want to go to Babel more than anything, but if I am seen there. If I'm recognized – It would be terrible, for everyone I care for that's held within the city's grasp." She fixes dark brown eyes on the Unlucky One. "And no one should walk the journey you plan to take alone. If you'll have me, I'll go with you."

Jynx looks back at the eyes, seeming to ponder the situation for a few moments. "Alright," he signs, shoulders slumping, "you may come with me. I suppose having someone to talk to will keep my mind from wandering onto the artifact." He gives a small smile.

Brishen squeaks, faintly. "From what you both have said about it, that's probably a very good thing."

Third-Vision signs, "Beware of the Artifact. Whatever you do, do not succumb to the temptation to make a wish upon its power. It is not known how it works properly … or how Palao Alto bent it to do his bidding. It is not worth sacrificing one's mind in the attempt to find out."

"The Twelve have theorized that it is a creation of the Sifras – those who came before even the First Ones. It is a device of unreasonable power … and great evil. Do not underestimate the danger," the Priest-Queen adds with a most serious expression.

The black Khatta nods, having experienced the influence of the Artifact first paw. "I can vouch for that. When we have time, I'll tell you more about it and how I came to seek it." He peers down at the map, "but we musn't take too long in preparing. The longer the Artifact is within the City, the more of a threat it poses."

Brishen resolves, quietly, not to come in contact with this thing if she can help it. But she grins and nudges her satchel. "I haven't had a chance to unpack."

"I believe an airship that has arrived from the Himaat will be returning there shortly … and we have friends who can get you quietly aboard," signs Third-Vision.

Brishen nods. "I've earned a certain amount of noteriety. I'll do what I can to make sure I'm not recognized before we reach Abaddon."

"Good, an airship will make our path much shorter," signs Unlucky-One, "but another question is to how we will transport the Artifact. Touching it is out of the question, and it doesn't even have to do that to get to you." The Khatta's ears turn red in remembered embarssment.

Third-Vision signs, "Your episode aboard the airship, near as the Twelve can tell, was aided by the magic talisman put around your neck. Stone-Hand sought to betray us. I do not believe his loyalty was bought with gold … but that he had some other purpose in mind." Third-Vision shakes her head. "And I do not know that purpose."

Jynx looks at the Priest-Queen curiously. "You mean I wasn't under the influence of the artifact?" He looks puzzled.

Brishen's ears cant forward, slightly. There's nothing she can miss about this artifact, or about where she has agreed to go. She moves closer to look at the map.

"Yes, you were," signs the Priest-Queen, "but the Artifact's influence upon you was strengthened by the amulet. The dirt from your boots was never used in its construction. Indeed … they contained no trace of magic, despite the curse you were told of in the land of your grandmother."

The map shows a path that goes from a point that is marked as a former location of Rephidim, to a meandering course about the Red Cliffs, then back to another point that is marked as a later location of Rephidim … then south of Himar to the Himaat, across the desert, and into the heart of an area marked as a Forbidden Zone.

"A magic amulet," the Khatta grimaces, turning the map for the bat to see. "I seem to grow to dislike magic more and more every day. How did he make this am-" he stops as he feels a lump in his pocket. He reaches in and pulls the culprit out, showing it to be the Talisman that Third-Vision awarded him with at her coronation.

Third-Vision smiles. "So, you still have that?"

Jynx blinks, and nods, a smile coming to his face as he remembers it. "It seems I do! I wouldn't lose it, after all." He stares at it, "I've been meaning to ask you what it does."

Brishen glances at her satchel, reminded of another necklace that has had more than a little attention paid to it in the past. She signs with one hand as she pokes around in her satchel, eventually removing her mother's necklace from a cloth bundle. "I've liked some of the mages I've met. Do you know Wynona Windcaller, Unlucky One?"

"It's a good luck charm, Unlucky One," signs Third-Vision with a smile. "Of course, 'luck' is a very vague concept, and hard to measure."

The cat shakes his head, "I can't say as I have, Creen's-Night-Song, although the name sounds familiar." He looks back to Third-Vision with a smile, and loops the talisman over his neck, "Maybe it'll come in handy then, I need all the luck I can get. Good luck that is."

Brishen carefully gathers the silvery strands of her mother's necklace in a hand, glancing at Third-Vision. "I have a talisman of sorts, as well. My mother gave it to me a long time ago. I only recently crossed paths with it again." She furrows her brow. "Someone paid a rather unwholesome amount of attention to it while I was an ambassador, but a mage from the Collegia said it wasn't magical. Whether it is or is not, it's a puzzle I haven't solved yet."

"It sounds like there must be quite a story behind it," signs the Priest-Queen.

Brishen smiles at the Unlucky One. "I think you would know Wynona if you'd met her. She has – allergies." Her eyes wander to the necklace again. "And I only know part of it." She smiles, shrugging, and tucks the necklace away in her satchel.

Third-Vision signs, "If it will help, I will have my servants see to making preparations for your quest – and your stay tonight, as surely you need some rest after your journey, Creen's-Night-Song, before embarking on another. Feel free to ask of my servants for any equipment or provisions you have a need for."

Brishen nods. "It'll be good to sleep on something that doesn't move."

Brishen tugs on her satchel as she stands. It resolutely remains fixed to the floor. She grabs it with both hands, flapping her wings as she hefts the thing a few inches from the ground. There is a lot of mumbling and wing-flapping before the satchel rests at her side once more. "It might be a good idea for me to leave some of this behind. I have no idea how I managed to carry it all this far."

Third-Vision signs, "It can be safely stored for your return. We do, after all, prefer that you return safe and sound." She claps her hands, summoning a couple of brawny cheetah manservants. "In the meantime, perhaps you could use a hand?"

Jynx rolls the map of the Himaat back up, and stuffs it into its case. He then gives a wide yawn, covering his mouth with a paw. "If you Ladies will excuse me, I'm going to head off to my quarters for now and get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. He stands up from his cusion, and stretches, back neck and tail all popping.

Brishen stumbles, ending up in the arms of one of the aforementioned manservants. She squeaks, looking up at the cheetah. Her hands wiggle. "Help!"