As Envoy makes her way down the corridor, back from a visit to the Engineering Chamber and another examination of the Egg (or Seed, depending upon one's preference), she overhears a distinctive *BING*! Shortly thereafter, a golden vixen appears, laden with heavy bundles. Her fur is nicely groomed and recently washed – as the Sutaranakh is fully equipped with many convenient facilities, and some of them now even work at a fraction of their original efficiency: quite sufficient to make Maza look much better than she has for most of her stay on Ashtoreth.

"Oh! Envoy!" Maza says, stopping at the intersection, shifting her balance somewhat so that a sling doesn't fall off of her shoulder as she turns. "I was going to find you to bid farewell… "

Envoy smiles to the vixen. "Well, you've succeeded! Has Arkold ever seen you all cleaned up like this before?"

Maza laughs at this. "No, most certainly not! Who knows? Maybe he'll cut me a larger share of what we're able to haul back to Gateway." She sighs at this. "Gateway. It's been so long since we've been there. I'm through with my commission in the Legionnaires, that's for sure. Arkold, well, I think he's going to be slipping a few bribes to make certain no one pays any notice if he goes where he pleases."

Leaning against one of the walls of the corridor, Envoy asks, "Where will you be heading from there? Back to Sinai, or off to one of the other worlds?"

Maza pauses thoughtfully, and inspired by Envoy's action, sets down a couple of bundles and leans with the rest of her burden against a bulkhead frame. "I haven't really decided, you know. Even after I give a good share back to my family, I'm still coming out of this pretty good. Unlike Arkold, I joined the Off-World Legion voluntarily – so I don't have any trouble with where I go next. Oh, maybe I'll just go back to Sinai, live it up for a while, take it easy … until I get bored, of course."

Envoy grins, and suggests, "You might want to visit New Zion on Abaddon. It's quite impressive and their entertainments are … well, you'd have to see them for yourself. I'll be stopping there next myself, to visit the Museum there before heading back to Abu Dhabi."

"Really?" Maza muses. "I must confess, I never got a good look at it. Well … passage through the Gates, unless you have some sort of pull with someone important, is fairly pricey, and subject to the whims of whatever Alliance bureaucrat is sizing you up at the time … unless, of course, you can latch onto a caravan already heading that way." *BING*

"I'm sure you wouldn't have any trouble hooking up with a caravan," Envoy says, figuring that Maza could charm a merchant fairly easily. "And if you do get bored, there are plenty of princes in Abu Dhabi I could introduce you to."

Maza laughs, and fakes a blushing gesture. "Well … I'd probably best not keep Arkold waiting. I do wish you well – We'll have to meet again sometime, trade stories, waste money, that sort of thing!"

"Of course! Once I'm done with my quest and settled down a bit, that is," Envoy promises.

"Don't say settled down!" Maza says, with mock alarm, as she picks up her baggage once more. "Farewell, and don't get into too much trouble!" *BING!* She winks as she strolls down toward the hangar bay.

Envoy watches the vixen leave with a wry grin, then continues on her way. As the cleanup continues, she's sure that there will be more things that the Sutaranakh will end up needing, and she doesn't want to leave until she has a good shopping list made up.

Meditation Chamber, Sutaranakh
A wide, circular, rounded chamber, the floor is slightly indented in a shallow bowl shape, rather than being perfectly flat, and the ceiling is dominated by a glowing sphere within which play swirling patterns of artificial light. The furnishings are smooth and curved, jade and malachite patterns trimmed in thin wires of brass woven into intricate serpentine patterns. The doors are oblong portals, bent by the curvature of the walls, flanked by control panels inset with softly glowing sigils.

This room has become Envoy's new home during her stay on the Sutaranakh – one of the areas that is still largely functioning, and is kept to a more comfortable level of humidity and temperature to fit Envoy's preferences, without the omnipresent mists clinging to the floor. It is perhaps more suited to the coils of a Naga, but with a few improvised cushions, it is sufficient for Envoy's needs for the time being.

Envoy finishes her study of the Nessian language, which Sutaranakh has conveniently been recording and analyzing for centuries, even if at limited capacity. Properly trained urgans should be able to signal to the giant serpents that they are friendly, she thinks. "Sutaranakh, is your interplanetary communications system functional?"

The audio communication system has been restored, as is evidenced by Sutaranakh's disembodied voice responding, "Yes, but only insofar as that I can broadcast. I have no way of knowing whether the signal can penetrate the planet's ocean, let alone its atmosphere, or that there is anyone to receive and understand the signal."

"Hmmm," the Aeolun ponders. "I don't know the state of your sister ship on Abaddon, or whether the Expedition has working equipment either. If they still work though, perhaps you can communicate by having a Nessian bring your transceiver to the surface when Ashtoreth and Abaddon are in line of sight? Otherwise, are there any messages you would like delivered to the Imperials or Expedition on Abaddon?"

"Given the information I have gleaned from you about the nature of the Imperials on Abaddon – and the Nagai on Sinai – I think it would be most prudent if I were to continue to groom one of my crewmembers to be an official representative. I am quite certain you would be more than sufficient, save for the happenstance of your species," the disembodied voice responds. "At present, I have no messages for you to deliver, though when my crew is ready, I will make contact. I am concerned that if they are not prepared, they may be exploited by outsiders."

"That said, I have made contact with the Nessians. One has agreed to provide assistance by conveying you to the surface, at such a time as you desire it. He wishes to show penance for his earlier ill-treatment, now that I have made clear your identity and importance to me," the voice continues.

"I'm certain they will be," Envoy agrees. "The Nagai of Sinai are very protective of their worldview though, so you may not be successful in dealing with them openly. I hope the Nessian wasn't injured by the torpedo that Arkold fired during our descent, was it?"

"Of that, I do not know," Sutaranakh confesses. "The incident was mentioned."

"Should I let the Abyssinian Mariners know to expect an emissary from you sometime in the future?" Envoy asks, wondering how the mer-cats would react to her be being borne back to them by a sea-serpent.

"Yes," Sutaranakh replies. "It would not do to surprise them needlessly."

"Good. They will be able to shield your crew a bit from the Khatta and Human interests," Envoy says. "I will tell their Grandmother that you have found your heart again, and are once more a child of the Mother, if you agree?"

There is a pause, and then Sutaranakh says, "Yes, that should communicate the appropriate message." Then, there is a flash of light within the orb at the top of the chamber, and a chiming sound. "The Nessian with whom I have been communicating approaches."

Envoy begins to pack her belongings, along with a second box containing the equipment needed for accessing the recorded data files and ship logs. The Abaddonians should be able to assemble them properly. "How should I meet with the Nessian? The pressure at this depth will prevent me from breathing, even with the spliced mask."

"You will be traveling in a pressurized container," Sutaranakh answers. "It has been reconfigured so that you can more easily communicate with the Nessians from within it."

"Ah, thank you!" Envoy says, shouldering her pack and picking up the box. "I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to generate enough volume to be heard on my own."

"You would not," Sutaranakh answers, "but I was able to instruct the Elder to make the necessary modifications. Is there anything further that you require for your journey, that I might provide?"

A low keening echoes distantly through the hull, as the walls vibrate faintly with the low-frequency call of an approaching Nessian.

"You already gave your blessing to my quest," Envoy says, smiling up at the ceiling. "The only thing more that I can think of now is that your ambassador send me a message through the College Esoterica embassy at Gateway Island to let me know that you've made contact with the Mariners. That way I can also let you know if the attempt to grow a new Seed from the old Abaddonian one is successful."

"It will be done," Sutaranakh promises. "If you are ready, please make your way to Cargo Hold 9. I have cleared a corridor for you. Your module awaits."

"Thank you again, for everything!" Envoy says, and hurries down the corridor, not wanting to keep the Nessian waiting too long.

No more conversation is possible as Envoy heads down the corridor – Though many of the corridors are equipped with still-functioning general broadcast speakers, only chambers and certain select areas are equipped with audio receptors, so that Sutaranakh is not burdened with having to process every sound of activity for a possible request by a crewmember. The way is conveniently illuminated, with doorways leading off to errant routes (and uncontrolled areas) just as conveniently closed, so that even if Envoy did not already know the way by heart (as she does much of the ship's layout by now) she would have little trouble in making her way there regardless.

The trip is not wholly uneventful, however. After several twists and turns (the interior conveyors are not – as yet – functional, or the trip would be much shorter) Envoy is heading down a straight-away that provides access to the third level of the cargo area, including Cargo Hold 9. Without warning, the lights flicker and die out, and the ventilation system falls uncharacteristically silent.

Envoy stops in her tracks and looks back down the corridor behind her, to see how far the blackout extends.

All Envoy can see is blackness. There is no ambient light, no dimly glowing control panels, no emergency lights. The blackout would have to extend back some distance and several twists and turns for her to be able to make out nothing at all. But then, there are many species capable of seeing in even less light than herself. Perhaps it will just take a moment for her eyes to adjust. Before that happens, however, she hears a sound of coils sliding over floor plating, in the direction that she presently looks – back in the direction she came from.

As quietly as she can, Envoy sets down the box she's been carrying to free up her hands, and reaches over her shoulders for the two halves of her staff. She screws them together as she retreats to one of the walls of the corridor.

The metal threads make a scraping noise as they screw together, unnaturally loud against the uncharacteristic and sudden silence, and so too do Envoy's footfalls seem painfully loud despite her best efforts. The sound of scales scraping against ceramic and steel grows louder, closer. Envoy is most certainly not alone, and even with her eyes having plenty of time to adjust to the darkness, she still cannot see a thing.

Gripping her weapon tightly, Envoy weighs the risk of unpacking her lamp, which would certainly leave her vulnerable. She knows Nagai can move very quickly when they need to, so decides against it. Instead, she focuses on listening to the creature's sounds. Perhaps some of the dangerous mutants escaped notice.

There is a skid of plastic on flooring, as the coiled stranger brushes against the container Envoy just dropped. At this particular instant, she can pinpoint its location, thanks to her memory – and right now it is very close.

It must not have seen the box, she reckons, and so probably doesn't see her yet either. "Who goes there?" she hisses loudly, hoping the echoes will mask her position while she runs to get (hopefully) behind the reptile.

At the moment that Envoy moves, she can feel a rush of air, and hears the sound of a hiss very close by. It takes a split-second to register that the serpent had been striking at the very moment she chose to move!

Envoy's move takes her behind the bulk of the reptile, but it is larger than she judged that one of the typical mutants should be, and she trips over its tail, landing on its writhing coils, though her staff is still in hand. A loud hiss escapes the creature. "Stand still," it hisses in the dialect of the "crewmembers". "My bite won't kill you. It will only hurt." The tone of the creature is, needless to say, far from comforting.

Holding her staff up to hopefully block any bites, Envoy warns, "My armbands can bite too, and I don't know if they'll only just hurt you! What is the meaning of this attack? What have you done to Sutaranakh?"

Envoy's block manages to deflect a blow, but only barely, as the force of it knocks her back, hitting her head against the shallow slope of the side-wall. She sees flashes for a moment – but it's only an effect of the impact, not some sort of magical luminescence. Her assailant shuffles his coils, knocking against Envoy's legs. "Envoy comes here unwanted. Envoy should have died on the Throne of Communion like the others. Susthrek was very favored, next to become Elder when the Elder sheds his body like a molted skin, to dance in the Great Serpent's belly. But now … Envoy changes things. Envoy takes the place of honor. No, Susthrek will go speak to the Great Dwellers of the Deep. Susthrek will be the voice of Sutaranakh! Not the alien!"

"You fool!" Envoy hisses, and strikes out at the voice with her staff. "I'm not her voice! You could have been her emissary!"

Envoy's staff strikes out, and she finds quickly that she correctly gauged the location of the snake, as it strikes true … but it is deflected by a flick of the serpent's muscular tail, rather than hitting a more tender part of her target. With shrill hisses, Envoy's segmented living "bracers" leap off of her forearms, presumably to do damage to her attacker, and she hears a pained hiss and several unpleasant noises – Susthrek apparently did not succeed in deflecting them – followed by a loud scream, and several thrashes of his coils. Unfortunately for Envoy, she is caught by the full force of the throes, and slammed bodily into the bulkhead. As her consciousness swims, she can feel the heavy weight of the snake's muscles falling upon her body, knocking the wind out of her. All goes black…

Before she blacks out completely, Envoy wonders what Susthrek did to kill the power. Without the air circulators and heaters, it could get very, very cold in here, she realizes as she passes out.

The darkness gives way to pain and a groggy realization of her surroundings. At first, it seems that her bearings are off-kilter, but, no, the floor she's on is slightly askew. There are swathes of cloth-like material wrapped around her head, and it feels as though she's partially pinioned in place by a belt about her waist and a harness crossing her shoulders, with her wings splayed somewhat awkwardly apart. The floor is not hard beneath her – Rather, it feels as if she is sitting in a chair of some sort, though it rests low to the ground such that her feet are straight out in front of her, and her heels are against cold solid plating. Green pinpricks of light provide faint illumination for the very small chamber she currently rests in, and her surroundings move subtly.

Envoy blinks to adjust her eyes, and tries to raise a hand to the cloth on her head. "Where am I?" she hisses in Imperial.

Envoy feels a faint sting of a healing bruise. Not enough time must have passed for her injuries sustained in the brief melee to have completely healed, but she can tell that she's recovering nonetheless. To the best of her knowledge, any injuries sustained are the least of her worries. More distracting is when the entire chamber vibrates in response to her question … and then it vibrates again, as a speaker relays a reply in the Nessian dialect: "Nesca Dawnward Shallow."

This must be the pressurized capsule she was heading for originally, the Aeolun realizes, and checks to see if her gear was put aboard with her. Somebody must have reached her after the fight with Susthrek then… so the blackout wasn't permanent at least. "How long have we traveled?" she thrums back in Nessian, glad that whatever amplifies her voice is automatic, and that her transport apparently understands Imperial as well.

More vibrations, a rumble, and a reply: "Not long – Do not be like the hatchling that must query each heartbeat how much longer it is until we find food."

Envoy can't help but grin at that. "Forgive me," she replies, "I was asleep when I was put into this … shell."

"And sleep you may as well. I must take you slowly upward, or your landling body would pop," comes the reply.

The Aeolun had nearly forgotten about depressurization. The capsule probably wasn't designed to work underwater, so the pressure inside would have to match the pressure outside. "Did Sutaranakh say anything after you picked me up?" she asks.

"Yes: to take you quickly. I asked not why," the speaker rumbles.

Envoy frowns at that. It could mean there was more trouble back on the ship. Susthrek probably had allies after all. "I hope she is untroubled. I am Envoy. What should I call you?"

A keening sound can be heard piercing the waters, which is converted to a more audible frequency that Envoy is able to translate as, "I am Pearlgaze of Silverwave of Duskward Trench, Envoy of Sutaranakh. Of that, you may save your voice to call me but Pearlgaze."

"That is a lovely name," Envoy says. Giant clams must be a staple of Nessian diet, she figures. "What do you think of the changes to Sutaranakh?" she asks, curious as ever.

There is a pause at this, and then finally, "My gills breathe relief I am not to be split open for biting your clam-craft. I am pained enough already, but to anger the Sutaranakh would be far worse. I have long guarded Sutaranakh, but never before has She spoken. It slows my blood to have assaulted Her chosen."

"I wasn't Her chosen until after I arrived at her," Envoy explains. "You acted correctly to defend against intruders."

"It pleases me to understand that you choose to let this transgression sink to the bottom of the abyss," the Nessian replies after another pause.

"Do you have a family?" the Aeolun asks, trying to make small talk.

"I live to see two generations follow me," the Nessian replies, long and slow, "though none of my ancestors swim this ocean." And, without further encouragement, the Nessian recites the names of his mate, his offspring, and their offspring. The familial ties are evidently far stronger than among the Nagai of Sinai, suggesting that there is a great deal more different with this offshoot of the serpent people than just size and gills. By the professions he mentions in passing, Envoy is able to gather that they construct things, like the makers of the clam-ship, from corals, natural resins, and large shells, though apparently they do not share the "grafting" of the Abyssinians, nor is there any hint that they possess any sort of electronic or mechanical technology. "Keeper of Tales" is a title among the others, and it seems that a "Leader of Songs" is one of great prestige.

All of this recitation, incidentally, makes the ascent more than a little bumpy, but that's just as well, for it helps Envoy's ears to pop a little more easily. Eventually, the Nessian stops, and announces, "I see the sky-fires. I return you to the surface now."

"Thank you for carrying me, Pearlgaze," Envoy says, and braces herself in case things get rough; there's always the chance of a surface storm, after all. "I would like to hear your songs someday."

"Another time," Pearlgaze replies. "We are not alone." The container jostles, and lurches, as its upward ascent comes to a bobbing halt. A red light on the ceiling flickers to a blinking yellow, then to green.

"Not alone?" Envoy wonders out loud, assuming it to mean there are ships in the area … or Mariners.

There is a rumbling that Envoy can faintly make out … but it does not get picked up by the frequency translator – likely a flaw in its improvised design.

Envoy briefly wonders if the hydrophone is picking up the sounds of waves. There isn't any way for her tell what's outside without opening the capsule, assuming she can figure out how to. She carefully unbuckles her restraints so that she can move quickly if necessary.

The restraints take some fussing with until they reluctantly let her loose. Yes, that is definitely something that she wouldn't have wanted to deal with at the last possible minute. Just as she finishes doing so, however, she can hear a faint whine outside the container … getting louder … then a *BOOM* that jostles the container and rocks it violently! Envoy is still partially buckled when this happens, so while she does get lashed about somewhat, she doesn't get thrown from her chair. The bracer-bugs, however, lose their grip on her arms (Ah! They're still alive!) and clatter against the hard flooring of the container, chirping and ratcheting in annoyance. Her belongings are secured with rubbery bindings that are hooked to links on the walls, and thus manage to hold in place, with only a little swaying.

"I think we're being fired on!" Envoy warns the bugs, as she retrieves her backpack and looks for some sort of hatch release.

The bugs don't respond save to scamper about, their multiple appendages clattering noisily on the flooring and walls, as they spin about in corkscrew turns, at last diving into an open pouch on Envoy's bag and hiding there.

Meanwhile, although the foundation to stand on is still fairly rocky, it looks like Envoy can reach a handle up at the top with minimal difficulty, which appears to be made to be rotated. The clockwise direction has an arrow reading "Open" in Imperial, while the counter-clockwise direction reads "Seal". It's currently turned all the way toward the Seal direction.

Envoy seals the pouch so the bracers won't be washed out, and unlashes the box with the data reading components in it. Unlinking some of the bindings, she tries to use them to secure the box by a line that ends in a loop around her wrist, so that it doesn't get lost if she has to swim. Only then does she reach up and try to open the hatch, hoping the capsule won't flood and sink too quickly.

As Envoy starts to release the seal, some water begins to leak in … but it's not a torrent, fortunately enough. There's a gasp as the seal breaks, making the circular hatch pop open as the remaining pressure is released, and Envoy's ears pop unpleasantly. A fine spray of cold mist rains into the container, and she can now hear quite clearly the howl of wind and the slapping of waves as the water buoys the module.

It's dark outside, though hard to tell whether that means that it's night time, or just the effect of thick clouds. In either case, there are no stars to be seen, and Envoy wouldn't have a view of the horizon until she gets out of the hatch. (Unless, perhaps, the container were to capsize or be swept up by a very large wave … but it's probably best not to entertain such possibilities right now.)

Gripping the edge of the hatchway, Envoy tries to pull herself up enough to get a view of what's outside without exposing herself too much.

Envoy's muscles ache as she strains to pull herself up, her hands slipping on the water-slicked, smooth exterior of the hatch lip, and she bruises her elbow while getting herself a solid hold. Outside, the horizon is lost in the gloom, but a search light sweeps over the cargo container, its source bobbing on the waters a cannon-shot's distance away. For a moment, Envoy can make out the silhouette of the craft by its outline in running lights, but then when the search light focuses entirely on the container, it's all she can do to look away lest she be blinded, after spending so much time in the darkness of the module.

The smell of brine is heavy in the air, mixed with the dusty aroma of storm clouds – a sensation echoed by a flash of lightning somewhere fortunately far away. (Perhaps that would be the "sky-fire" Pearlgaze referred to.) The winds wail and whine, and the module rises and falls with the broad waves that pass underneath it, sending sprays of mist as the waters split against the smooth alloy surface of Envoy's makeshift barge.

Deciding it would be unwise to wait in the capsule at this point, Envoy struggles to climb the rest of the way out. She doesn't want to be too close should the ship fire on the container, after all. As she does this, she also calls out in Khattan, "Hello! Please don't shoot!"

Envoy's voice is lost in her own ears against the wind and the sounds of the ocean, but the spotlight has stopped its sweeping, and is more or less as focused upon her as the bobbing of waves will permit. She can barely make out an amplified voice howling from the direction of the craft, and then the growl of approaching engines, joined by a much lighter buzzing sound – one that Envoy is able to place as the sound of the small "seaskipper" vehicles of the Kampfzengruppe.

Envoy waves with her unburdened arm, the other one clutching the box against her chest. She'd wave with her wings if she could, but in this weather she'd probably end up being blown off the capsule.

There's another amplified shout from the boat. She has only picked up a few Bosch words – It sounded like "Attention!" was mixed in there somewhere – and then the seaskippers bob into view, living up to their names by cresting the tops of the waves and sending up large splashes as they hit the water on the other side. "You there!" the lead driver calls out once he's much closer. "You speak Standard? You speak Emirate?"

"Yes, both!" Envoy calls out in Standard this time.

The seaskipper pulls up to the bobbing container. Some water is starting to puddle in the bottom from the spray getting inside and the occasional splashes. The driver, a torn-up tomcat of a Khatta in leathery Legionnaire garb, extends a gauntleted hand to the alien. "Get on! We drove off a Ness – If it was that brave, it'll probably be back with a vengeance! What are you doing out here?" Two more seaskippers circle – a human and another feline, neither of them looking better for the wear, their faces obscured by goggles and facemasks.

Envoy reaches out to take the offered hand. "Would you believe that Nessian was bringing me back from the Sutaranakh?" she asks the Khatta.

"No!" the soldier laughs, and takes Envoy's hand, helping her – and her cargo – onto the back of the craft. It's about all she can do to cling onto it as he turns about, aiming for the Kampfzengruppe destroyer.

Envoy huddles down and wraps her wings around her for a bit more protection from the wind. "Ah, just as well then," she tells the pilot. "Just as well."

Grandmother Atalanea smiles when she notices Envoy returning to the trade center. A couple of younger Mariners are seated on shells to each side, but at a quiet whisper from the Grandmother, they smile in turn to Envoy, and leap down into the larger pool at the base of the slope, and swim off down the channels that split off from the reservoir. The elder Mariner gestures toward the winged ki'rin to approach.

Envoy smiles and sits at the edge of the raised pool. "Hello again, Grandmother. I've come back from the Sutaranakh with much news," she says. She's had time to clean up a bit since her rescue, and so has a new wetsuit devoid of bite marks, but otherwise doesn't appear much different from her previous visit.

"It is true then?" Grandmother asks, in a hushed tone, her smoothly curved ears canting curiously. "I heard you were rescued from one of the Soulless Ones. How is it that you managed to get even that far?"

"I was able to decipher the song sung by Sutaranakh in order to safely guide our clam-ship to berth," Envoy explains. "There were, indeed, demons aboard, but also civilized beings that had survived for ages, descended from the original crew. They put me in contact with the mind of Sutaranakh, which had been damaged, but was able to heal herself by accessing my own mind as a guide. She has put an end to the demons, and is educating her crew and the Nessians now. She is in tune with the Mother once more. Her Soul is restored."

The Grandmother takes some time to digest all of this, her eyes wide with a surprise Envoy has not seen in them before – and then she closes them, putting her hands to her muzzle. "A miracle. I would have not thought such things possible. If I had not heard it from your own lips, I would suppose it some heresy, a mistake, a lie … but I can find no untruth in you. Would that I had known the hand the Mother had in smoothing the waters before you, I would … I cannot think of what I could have done differently, the truth be spoken." She opens her eyes, smiling once more. "And here you are! Do you know how many rumors I have heard of you since you left my presence? How many told me in gasps, 'Do you realize just who it was that spoke to you? That you let get so close to you?'" There's a playful tone to her voice as she adds a mock touch of indignation at the last, and she sighs, shaking her head slowly.

Envoy blinks at this news. "Rumors? I didn't think anyone would have heard of me on this world … unless the rumors came after my companions returned with their prizes. They left early, as I chose to stay behind and learn more, such as the language of the Nessians."

Grandmother Atalanea laughs lightly. "Oh, don't you worry yourself! I don't believe half what I've heard of you. The other half … " She lets it trail off with a teasing smile. "Suffice it to say that this came courtesy of the walkers. I think that perhaps they were but jealous merchants thinking you were trying to secure a my favor in the hopes of landing a lucrative trade deal, and wanted none of that from an 'outsider'." She then nods thoughtfully. "The language of the Nessians, you say? Could you perhaps be persuaded to stay a little longer? I am thinking there would be some value in knowing such a tongue."

Envoy nods. "Of course, I will teach it to others before I leave, although only the Urgans will be able to speak it loud enough to be effective, unless another means is created. When she feels her crew is ready, Sutaranakh will send an emissary to make formal contact with you, although I can't say when. There was some internal dissent among them as I left – as with the merchants here, outsiders infringing in their domain does not sit well with those in power."

The Grandmother frowns and nods at this. "A sign well enough that they are as mortal as we, no doubt."

"I have confidence that Sutaranakh will bring peace quickly," Envoy says, and adds with a grin, "Having control of someone's air supply can make one very persuasive."

Grandmother Atalanea raises an eye ridge at this. "I suppose that would be the case." After a moment of sober expression, she smiles again, her face crinkling. "Thank you for returning with such news to us. I will let my sisters know to expect an emissary. Am I to suppose that the 'rescue' from the Soulle – Nessian you were seen with, then, was unnecessary? Or are the Nessians divided amongst themselves as well?"

"The Nessians are surprised to hear Sutaranakh's voice after so long as well," Envoy says, "but I couldn't say what effect it will have on their society. Pearlgaze, the one who brought me back here, was quite nice. They have strong family ties and more of an independent culture, so should handle it well."

"Whatever troubles come, I am certain the Mother means it for the ultimate good," Grandmother says, prayerfully.

Envoy leans in closer and whispers, "There is one other thing I would like to discuss with you, but I think it would be best done in private, as it may be a bit sensitive."

An ear-twitch from Grandmother. She nods quietly. "If you would," she whispers, "go to the lounge. I will have someone fetch you, and lead you to the Ruby Grotto."

Envoy bows her head, and says, "Thank you for your audience, Grandmother," before getting up and walking casually over to the lounge.

A mer-kitten led Envoy through the ocean to the easily-missed tunnel, and then left her to make her way up the chute, at last coming out into this secluded place. Grandmother Atalanea reclines in the shallows to one side of the central pool, and smiles softly as Envoy breaks the surface of the water.

Envoy swims to one of the small islands, and pulls herself up to sit down on a patch of moss. "Greetings again, Grandmother, and thank you for the privacy. I need to ask you … do you think peace is possible between Abyssinians and Sirens?"

Grandmother Atalanea frowns pensively at this. "Possible? I cannot rule out anything as impossible. Has your success at Sutaranakh made you ambitious, my child? It is commendable, but there are many wounds my people have suffered at the hands of the Sirens. I do not think they will heal easily."

"I see," the Aeolun says, folding her hands into her lap. "So, a Siren would not be welcome here, even one willing to help both sides understand each other better?"

"Is this a hypothetical question," Grandmother Atalanea asks, "or has your journey been even more eventful than you have told me already?"

"I've met a Siren, and learned a little about their society, if not their motives," Envoy admits. "I can at least tell you that they do have males, and do not always kill their captives."

Grandmother Atalanea takes a deep breath at this. "I do hope you have no pressing commitments – I'd like to have some food brought, and arrangements for you to stay a while. I have a suspicion that this is a tale well worth the telling in great detail."

Envoy nods, but says, "I'm afraid there isn't much more I can tell you, but I will of course tell you all that I can, without divulging my exact sources of information." Arkold probably won't want to stay around on Ashtoreth for long anyway, she thinks, and Raneah will need a new home.