It takes little effort for "Yovne" to find the modest little Guild Hall set up in the shadow of the Tower, as the town inside the eye of the storm is very small, and has a very real boundary that prevents it from growing any larger – at least, not within this particular space. The Guild Hall is unusual in that, in its most recent incarnation, it is actually made of stone – and the older structure that is still quite obviously fashioned from the hull of a sand trireme appears to now serve as an auxiliary structure of some sort. The stone can't have possibly been quarried and carried across the desert – not without extraordinary and unreasonable expense – but the redness of the stone suggests that the materials were brought through the Gateway instead. (Given the reputed properties of minerals brought from Abaddon, it must be assumed that very little magic was used in the building's construction. It seems a very simple if sturdy construction of blocks and mortar.)

The front double doors are wooden, with chiseled patterns representing the various natural elements, and mystical designs meant to represent the outer Spheres as well, and in the center of each area is a depiction of the appropriate rune – and, of course, the areas are all arranged in the two concentric rings of six items each that forms the standard College Chart of the Spheres, with Light, Spirit, Shadow and Illusion splitting down the middle to allow for the two doors to part.

All of the walking to get to this part of the city in the heat has taken its toll on Envoy, stuck in her stifling Nohbakim costume. She hopes they have an Air Mage keeping things cooler inside as she knocks on the door.

Envoy's magical sense tingles as she stops at the door. It would seem that one effect of the Abaddonian stone is to serve as a buffer to make it less obvious to the magically-inclined to casually notice any magical goings-on inside the building, but the wood of the door offers no such shielding, and especially not this close. Yes, there is most definitely Air Magic at work, and even if she could not sense the buzz in the air, she would feel the faint wisp of cool air seeping out through the cracks in the door. But what's more, she feels a tingle of Scrying.

It could just be a peephole spell, to see who is at the door, Envoy thinks to herself, and knocks once more, also issuing a "Hello?" in her androgynous Nohbakim voice.

Envoy's mimicry is uncanny, and perhaps even a native Nohbakim would be hard-pressed to find anything wrong with her voice (especially given just how much variety there is in Nohbakim physiology.) She can hear a shuffling gait on the other side of the door, and then the circle that encompasses the rune of Scrying at the top of the circle slides and swivels back, revealing itself to be a far more mundane sort of peephole, with a hazy blue feline eye peering through from the other side. "Please show your Guild ring."

"I do not have one," Envoy replies, quite honestly. "I have come regarding the posters of the mage you are seeking."

"AHA! At last!" a feline voice mrowls from the other side, and the peephole pops back into place, and Envoy can hear a bolt sliding. The right door creaks open. "Come in, come in, and be quick about it!" a stooped whitened Khatta bids Envoy, adorned in robes of gold. "My rituals have warned me that Envoy of Lothrhyn will be here this very day, and there's no telling what havoc she might wreak! I must close the door quickly behind you, lest she slip in somehow. She's very tricky!"

Yovne scuttles into the welcoming coolness of the building. "You are expecting her to… attack you?" she asks.

The mage shuffles and hastily slams the door shut behind Yovne. "Hunter Ra Shrikendune warned me not to take any chances – that she might be possessed by a spirit, or simply crazed out of her mind! She's an alien, with alien values, after all." He throws the bolt. "Best not to take any chances. Now then … have you seen her?"

"Yes," Yovne says. "I was on aboard the same sand ship as the Mage when she went to the Tower of Barabbas in the Sea of Sand. I was wondering why you were seeking her. Has she committed a crime? Is Mage Barabbas in danger?"

"Oh! Poor Mage Barabbas! Succumbed to her honey-sweet tongue, no doubt, or feels a debt of honor. How terribly sad! They have him under watch now. I suppose you might call it 'house arrest,' though from what I hear, it's a very nice house." The Khatta shakes his head, and shuffles over toward a broad desk, and starts shuffling through some papers. "Let us see here. Consorting with spirits, blatant disregard for the safety of innocents, planning to awaken a magical automaton of unknown powers on an alien world … oh, the list goes on and on!"

"What will you do with her then?" Yovne asks as she – it – follows to the desk.

"Well, I suppose that all depends on where she's caught, and who catches her," the scryer says. "Oh! Pardon my manners a thousand times and again! I'm Scryer Gnostos, a mere journeyman of the prognosticating arts. And you would be … ?" He doesn't extend a hand to shake, but just clutches a sheaf of parchments to his chest.

"Yovne," the faux-Nohbakim says, and gives a hunch-backed bow. "If you expect this Envoy to arrive today however, you must have a plan to subdue her? Why does it matter where she is captured?"

"Well, I can't very well go giving out details of that," the mage says. "Secrecy, you know. But rest assured, the Himaatian branch of the Mages' Guild is fully prepared to deal with the problem quickly and permanently, in the proper Abu Dhabian manner."

"I see," Yovne says. "What if she turns herself in, though?"

The mage laughs quickly at that. "Well, then, I suppose we'd have to deliver her to Caroban, where I suspect there are a few sheltered fellows who would push for leniency. After all, they were soft-hearted enough to allow her to go about possessed by the spirit of Inala. Er, that is, that's a Babelite deity. Someone very unpleasant. But in any case, I've been assured by Hunter Shrikendune that such a thing will not happen."

"That she will turn herself in, or that she will receive leniency?" Yovne asks, antennae twitching about. "Is the Hunter here?"

"Oh. Well, both, I suppose, technically," the scryer says. "And, yes, Hunter Shrikendune is nearby. Never fear! He'll have everything in hand. But he threatened me very severely if I let slip any of the details of his master plan. He warned me that even though I'm an excellent source of information, I'm a bumbling old fool who says far too many things too easily, and one of these days it's going to bring me trouble." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Now then, do you actually have any information on Envoy of Lothrhyn, then? Otherwise, well, I suppose I could give you one of these posters if you think it will help any. I do have some spares that I haven't managed to put up just yet – and if she's going to be caught today, I suppose there's no sense in putting them up tomorrow, hmm?" He laughs at his own joke.

"I may have some useful information," Yovne admits. "If I could have a written guarantee that she will be sent to Caroban if she turns herself in, though, I think I could convince her to surrender to you."

"Convince her? Oh, goodness, no, if you see her, don't approach her yourself. She'll fill your head with all sorts of bizarre stories, or cast a spell on you or who knows what! No, come to the Guild immediately, and I'll fetch Hunter Shrikendune, and he'll deal with her personally," the scryer says.

"I have dealt with mages before, and faced many dangers in my travels," Yovne says. "And above all I would wish to see things done fairly and peacefully, lest some disaster befall this place, since we are in a Forbidden Zone. I am sure that your assurance that she will not be summarily executed and will receive a fair hearing in Caroban will subdue the creature."

There's a rap at the door. "Gnostos! Open up immediately!" It's the voice of a far-from-meek fennec, and without any trace of Khattan apologetic tone.

The Khatta shrinks back at the voice, and says, "Please do pardon me. He gets very cross if I – " The knock comes again. "COMING!" He rushes for the door, nearly tripping over his own robes.

"Be careful, it could be a trick!" Yovne warns the Khatta.

The Khatta freezes in mid-step. "Oh yes! I forgot! She's an excellent MIMIC!" He cringes, looking frozen and unable to decide just what to do next. The knock comes again. "Ah – but she's not a shape-shifter! Coming!" He timidly heads to the door, and reaches for the peephole cover.

Yovne shuffles after Gnostos, moving to stand at one side of the doorway

"Scryer Gnostos, I must speak with you at once, and in private. Mage Envoy or one of her compatriots was just at the Embassy. We must act quickly!" the fennec says from the other side.

Mage Gnostos pops open the peephole, and peers through. "Oh! Yes, it is you. Sorry. I had to make certain you weren't Mage Envoy, using her famous mimicry to fool me into opening the door." He hastens to unbolt the door.

"I suppose that I should leave then, so as not to get in the way of your business," Yovne says to Gnostos.

"Oh! Yes, many apologies," Gnostos says, as he struggles with the bolt. "Ah … could you see yourself out the side door? Please pardon me, but Hunter Shrikendune … well … no offense, but he does not care much for Nohbakim. I hope you won't hold it against him."

Yovne glances around to spot the other exit, and heads that way. "I'm sure he has a suitable rationalization for his dislike, so I take no offense. Thank you for your time."

The Nohbakim does stop off at the desk to pick up one of the posters, though, as a souvenir.

A single doorway leads off of the front lobby into a central access hallway, and then a T-intersection branches off, breaking the symmetry, toward the old Guild Hall building. The door here has a bolt, and though Yovne can't be expected to latch it behind her, perhaps the scryer is content to take a chance of Envoy slipping in somehow so long as Hunter Shrikendune is already in the building. As she unbolts the door, she can hear Shrikendune's voice: "A Nohbakim was asking at the Embassy about passage to Behemoth… "

Envoy unbolts the door, and quickly steps through.

She finds herself in an alleyway between the stone structure and its smaller wooden partner, one way leading to the central street leading directly to the tower, and the other toward the disarranged maze of tents and shacks that marks the territory claimed by wealthy merchants of the Emirate.

She briefly catches something along the lines of, "… I rubbed the scarab, but you must not have been watching," and then the door closes the rest of the way behind her.

No sense in taking the exposed route, should Gnostos and Ra figure things out, Envoy reasons, and heads for the tents. Clearly, she needs to get out of Gateway – preferably to Rephidim or Caroban.

As Envoy makes her way through the maze of tents and shacks, carefully keeping an eye out for any pursuing homicidal fennecs, and also keeping her ears perked for anything suspicious in general, she passes a tent where she sees – and hears! – two Khattas having an animated argument. "BEHEMOTH! But there is NOTHING for us on Behemoth! Who approved this? Do you know how much this change in plans will cost me?!" "Silence, my brother! It is not our decision! We were promised fair compensation for our losses."

Envoy pauses and then approaches the two Khattas. "Pardon me, but I could not help but overhear your conversation. Are you going to Behemoth?"

"YES, we are going to Behe – " The Khatta suddenly stops, as he turns around and sees the Nohbakim. His eyebrow quirks. "Ah, but forgive me for my outburst. Yes, we are going to Behemoth, distant jewel – a majestic cloud of many colors, surrounded by a latticework of finest crystals, the span of which is many times over the size of our very own world, and it boggles the mind to even try to comprehend the possibilities of exploring the width and breadth of it. Yes, Behemoth!" Though the Khatta puts on a pleasant face, every other word is accented with irony aimed obliquely at his brother, and he has the look about him of seething through a smile of clenched teeth.

"You must be very important to be given clearance for such a venture from the Emirate," Yovne says, and makes a respectful bow to back up the flattery.

The Khatta's mouth twists, as he swallows many words, but he finally nods. "The Emir is very wise, and with the counsel of his good friends who live among the sky islands, has respectfully requested that we undertake this venture, rather than our previously planned expedition to the rainbow world of Arcadia and its lush, bountiful jungles." He looks almost on the verge of tears for a moment. "Ah … but … there are many wonders on Behemoth. Many indeed."

"What sort of wonders?" Yovne asks. "I am a humble seeker of crystal artifacts. Would such be found there?"

The other Khatta merchant – like him, marked in blotches of black and white, but in this case most notable for a "priest's collar" patch of white at his neck – clasps his hands together. "Yes, many crystal artifacts, of unmatched splendor! We will be bringing many back with us from our venture."

"Many upon many," the first merchant – whose own most distinctive feature are large white eyebrow patches – says, "for our wagons were prepared to bring back living timber from Arcadia – a wondrous wood that can be shaped into living structures, without putting a saw or chisel to it!"

"But they'll bring back crystal instead," the second merchant says firmly, "and we will be pleased to do so, as the Emir has bidden us to."

"I have some small skill at locating such trinkets," Yovne says, and produces the crystal rose that Morpheus left for her from her cloak. "Such as this. Would you have a place in your expedition for someone like me?"

Both of the cats snap out of exchanging meaningful and barbed glances at each other, as their eyes go wide in marvel at the crystal rose. "By the Emir!" "By the First Ones!" In unison, they mrowl, "IT'S BEAUTIFUL!" Then, they get to business: "How much will you take for it?" "I'll give you a gold shekel for it!" "Two!"

"I would not feel right parting with this, as it is the only one of its kind," Yovne says, tucking the rose away. "Very rare Morphean Sifran Crystal. Although I may reconsider if I could travel with you to Behemoth, and would be allowed to keep some of what I find there."

The two cats exchange glances. "Hmm." "Hmm. A very interesting proposal." "We have not much time to prepare for the journey tomorrow – and to announce it as we were commanded to do so."

"We will be leaving on the morrow," the first merchant says, "and if you will be ready to go, we will discuss the particulars. We have been tasked with many changes to make, and I apologize greatly that we must tend to them immediately."

"Announce it?" Yovne asks. "The Emir requested this on short notice then? Was Mage Barabbas involved, do you know?"

The first merchant just tries to hide a glower, as he looks away, while the second one – apologetically bowing and clasping his hands together, mrowls, "The Emir was compelled to arrange this expedition at the urging of Rephidim, with the insistence of the College Esoterica. It seems that there is some very vital experiment that must be conducted, and we, having been scheduled to have use of the Gateway tomorrow – otherwise going to Arcadia – therefore have the honor of transporting this expedition to Behemoth instead."

Envoy blinks several times beneath her mask. "Will there be representatives of the Temple and the College joining the expedition then?"

"Oh, I am certain of it!" the second merchant with the white collar says. "It is their expedition, after all. But more than that, your humble servant knows very little, for the Temple, they are very secretive about such things. I am to imagine that it must be very important indeed, for never do I recall such haste in arranging an expedition."

The first merchant nods. "If there is this much interest in Behemoth, perhaps we could make up some loss in fares… "

Yovne shuffles from foot to foot, before asking, "I suppose they are organizing at the Rephidim Embassy then?"

The second merchant drums his fingers on his chin. "Of that, I do not even know just yet! We only just now received the news. I shall have to visit the embassy to ask, immediately. But if you will meet us here, at our tent, at sunrise tomorrow, ready to go, we will have all arrangements taken care of. You see – I do not think that they are really wishing for us to take passengers. But you will be with us as a guest – not technically a passenger."

Yovne bows deeply to the Khatta, and says, "Thank you very much. I will most certainly try to be here on time, honored merchants."

The merchants bow. The first one looks stricken at a sudden realization. "Ah! I am Aban, and this is my brother, Abbas, sons of Abdel of El-Rabi. If you have any trouble finding our tent, mention our names, and our most esteemed neighbors will point the way."

"I will remember," Yovne promises, and steps back out into the sunlight. Now, how fast can I get to the Temple Embassy without overheating? she thinks, and tries to get her bearings in the mass of tents.

By the time Envoy makes it to the Temple Embassy, she is just barely clinging on, and her "antennae" are drooping. The Temple embassy looks severe, simple and utilitarian, both inside and out, and that describes the Jupani officer at the lobby desk inside. (Fortunately, it's much cooler inside than out.)

"Hello," Yovne says tiredly to the officer. "Is this where the expedition to Behemoth is being gathered?"

The officer's gruff expression gives way to rising eyebrows of momentary surprise, and then he furrows one brow as he says, "Why, yes. Yes, it is."

"May I please speak to the officer in charge?" Yovne asks, sounding a bit relieved. "I think I may be expected."

"Who may I say is calling?" the wolf asks, blotting the quill he was using, and starting to rise from his chair.

Fumbling at her neck for a moment with her gloved right hand, Envoy manages to unhook and lift off the Yovne-mask. "Envoy of Lothrhyn," she says, taking in a deep breath of the cooler air.

Envoy has to sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs for a while, but at least she's brought some water for herself and her pets, and the air is cool and dry. At last, the door creaks open, and in comes a poodle decked out in an outlandish costume that seems like he's desperately trying to look Himaatian and like an exceedingly loyal Rephidim Templar at the same time, what with all his trappings. "Greetings, Exile Envoy of Lothrhyn," the poodle says. "I am Lieutenant Eustace do Varr, Candidate for the Knightly Orders." He says that last part with an emphasis that makes the capital letters unmistakable.

Envoy stands up from her seat so that she can bow. "A pleasure to see you have advanced, Lieutenant. I remember meeting you as a Cadet, during the magical attack against Rephidim."

"Heh heh," the poodle says, showing some faint embarrassment, and trying to hide it. "It's been so long, hasn't it?" He bows at the waist back to Envoy. "Please, please, no need to stand." He pulls out a chair for himself opposite Envoy. "So, what brings you to Gateway Town?"

Retaking her seat, Envoy smiles to the poodle and says, "The Expedition to Behemoth, in part. I assume you are looking for the artifacts needed to complete the Leviathan on Abaddon. Perhaps as part of your Candidate quest?"

"Something like that," Eustace says, "but I am given to understand that you're interested in such a thing yourself – and, so I hear, there are some who are none too happy about it."

"Traditionalists who do not see the benefits of progress," Envoy says. "And who perhaps are uncomfortable with the limits of their own authority when it comes to the worlds beyond the Gateway. But I hear you have support from Caroban for this expedition? If that is the case, then I imagine the reported misgivings about the objective were a bit exaggerated."

Eustace grins awkwardly, and says, "Just because I may be questing for the same goal does not mean that I may be bending it to the same purpose. I have nothing less than total respect for the High Council of Caroban. I am on this quest for the purpose of exploration and study – not acquisition."

"My own goal is not necessarily acquisitive," Envoy replies. "But I certainly wish to find something, and so far I've been fairly successful in doing so when it comes to my personal quest."

"Well then! If that's what it's all about, we shouldn't have any trouble," Eustace says. "Although, if I were you, I would be a bit careful. I strongly suspect that the local Mages' Guild would like me to turn you over to them if I were to run into you … but nobody has specifically requested of me or ordered me to do so."

"Perhaps it would be best if I could meet with the Mages that are going on the expedition?" Envoy asks.

Eustace laughs. "You really are an Exile! Envoy, Envoy, Envoy … I do think that someone in the local branch of the Mages' Guild wants to make a name for himself, and you're a very, very famous 'rogue mage' right now. I wouldn't tempt fate if I were you. But then … I'm not, now am I?"

"I'm sure that Mages from Caroban or Rephidim will be more reasonable than those that have been talking to mister Shrikendune," Envoy says. "At least, I don't think any have personal grudges against me yet."

Eustace shrugs. "Well, as I understand it, until the High Council drafts things up otherwise, the Mages' Guilds of the Khattan Emirate hold jurisdiction over affairs of magic in the Gateway Worlds. You see, the way their rules are written, the Gateway Worlds are all treated as if they were contained within the Khattan Emirate. We both know that's rather silly, but since nobody's actually able to cast spells off-world, there hasn't been much pressure for them to change that anytime soon."

Envoy considers this. "I don't suppose you could tell me the names of the Mages you have with you? Are they all… uh… local ones?" she asks.

"Local, I'm afraid. Of course, if you were taken to Caroban, the Caroban Watch would decide things there … but while you're here, well, Witch Hunters have considerable leeway in determining just how much of a threat a rogue mage presents. If he has cause to think that the rogue mage is untrustworthy, he can even use lethal force against a mage that claims to surrender," Eustace says. "Once you have that 'rogue' label stamped on you … well … it's not a pretty picture."

"Actually, I found the picture on the posters rather flattering," Envoy notes. "I suppose I'll have to find a way to Caroban then, or else continue in disguise. You wouldn't happen to know of any flights leaving for Caroban or Rephidim tonight, would you?"

"Rephidim? On any given night, you'll always find a flight for Rephidim, but if you're in a rush, you'll have to pay some terrible fare. If you're willing to be on a waiting list, the price drops considerably," Eustace says, looking up as if mentally accessing from his own experiences. "As for Caroban … well, I can't say as I travel there much myself, really. You don't just go to Caroban. Not without an invitation, or some special business. Even if I wanted to go, I'd have to contact the local Guild Hall and make arrangements."

Envoy sighs. "Well, do you have any advice? If I come along incognito, as it were, I could certainly promise to do everything I can to ensure the success of the expedition. I've been off world before, and have some experience with First Ones technologies. But I'd have to ask you to keep my secret."

"Of course," Eustace says, "but you would have to promise to stay secret. Remember, I'm aspiring for knighthood here. I wouldn't want to have some Caroban mages whispering in the ears of the selection committee that I'm unsuitable due to mischief-making."

"Given the chance that the Mages there would probably try to kill me if I were exposed, you have my assurances that I would do everything I could to maintain my cover," Envoy promises. "I've noticed that people are only too willing to provide Nohbakims with whatever privacy they request."

Eustace laughs at this. "Quite true, and I must confess to having the same approach, ever since I rode a sand-trireme across the Sea of Sand, and naively wanted to observe the native dinner ritual." He tries to hide a momentary look of queasiness at the recollection. "I never could figure out just why a sand-fish would need quite that many eyes… "

"To intimidate rivals, I would imagine," Envoy suggests, and reaches for her headpiece. "I have made arrangements with the merchants providing the expedition with transport, so you will not have to worry about including me in the official roster. I have my own supplies as well, except for water."

"Well, then! I suppose you should be all set. Water will certainly be in supply, as there isn't much of it where we're headed," Eustace says, clapping his hands together once, shifting back forward in his chair as if anticipating a close to the meeting is eminent. "Otherwise, I could have tried to, say, hire myself a personal Nohbakim guide … but that would have made things rather uncomfortable to explain if your identity should be later revealed – even if you manage to get within the good graces of the Mages' Guild again."

Putting her mask on, Envoy becomes Yovne again. "Thank you for seeing me, Master do Varr," she says in her Nohbakim voice. "I look forward to a successful expedition on the morrow."

Eustace stands up and bows with a flourish. "As do I! I trust that whatever we find on Behemoth will greatly benefit both our peoples."

Yovne returns the bow, and decides to find a room for the night that has a bath. She definitely wants to scrub down well before being cooped up in costume for another long trip.