Some time has passed since Kia's and Envoy's adventures in the underground kingdom of Stalto. Kia has – with the Stalto Chieftain's blessing – explored the ruins and examined various gadgets with the enthusiasm of a Gallee pup in a chew toy shop, while Envoy has had a chance to pick up on the finer points of a less-than-refined version of Earth magic … and to brush up on ancient Krozite. Eventually, however, the time comes when Envoy feels that it's time to move on – and so she's called to the palace of the Chieftain, before she heads off on a continuation of her quest.

The chieftain rests on his throne, as usual – it seems rare, if ever, that he leaves it, by Envoy's observation alone – accompanied by Shaman Whiteeyes. (His name is unchanged, though he no longer bears the blindness that earned him his name.)

"So, I am hearing that you must go back to the land above, to continue your quest. You go with blessings. Is there anything you lack for to aid you on your way?" the chieftain asks, at last, as Envoy comes before him.

The Aeolun bows to the Skreek, and says, "You have been most generous to me already, Chief Stonegnaw. All I can ask is if you wish me to keep your city a secret from those who might provide you additional aid. There are many Skeek and Skreek Mages who may help in the rebuilding for the chance to learn of your glorious past."

The chieftain furrows his brow, and curls the claws of one hand, resting his long chin on them, and he closes his eyes in thought for a long moment. Finally, he opens one eye with a rise of a bushy eyebrow, and peers at Envoy. "We know not the surface world and its dangers. What counsel would you give? Does it help or harm us to remain a secret?"

"Your city is well hidden and protected," Envoy notes. "It would be difficult even for Mages to come here. But I think there are also those who might risk it seeking more personal gain, or those who may seek to destroy you over ancient grudges or myths. My suggestion is to have someone you trust in the outer world bring those they deem trustworthy, in small groups. You may want to consider eventually sending representatives to the surface yourself."

The chieftain nods at this, then at last says, "We have two of the surface world we trust. There is you, and there is Little-Smile. We have been here long, and you have brought us much excitement. We will not be hasty. More excitement can wait a little while. I ask you then to keep our secret – except to those you think are worthy of trust. If you send any to us, then we must have a sign whereby we know that they have your trust – and do not merely know of you and are crafty enough to lie and claim to be your friend."

Envoy thinks for a moment, and then plucks one of her wing feathers, which she offers to the chief and shaman. "My feathers are unique. Anyone I send will bear one of these, so that you can match it against the feather I give you now. I will leave one with Little-Smile as well, so that anyone I send to her for consideration will have a matching one to present to her."

"She will also present them with a sign to show that she gives them her blessing. I will not know her sign," Envoy adds.

The chieftain hesitantly reaches for the feather, then holds it up and sniffs at it, his whiskers twitching. He nods, and brings his arm back to rest on the throne, still clutching the feather. He grins. "And this is proof enough you will not send too many to us – else you should be bald of feathers!"

Grinning, Envoy notes, "It is unlikely that more than three people at a time could manage the route in any case."

The chieftain nods. "It is good. A very good plan. It is approved. You go with our blessings, and as many mushrooms and lichens as you can carry, and an escort to see that you make it to the sun-lands without trouble from grooks or gorts or other monsters."

Envoy bows again. "Learn well from Little-Smile," she says. "I will seek her out again before I tell others of this place."

"It is good," the chieftain repeats, and then the shaman shakes a rattle and sprinkles some powders, and performs a blessing. Thus ends Envoy's visit to Stalto…

Envoy makes it to Olympia after only a few minor incidents along the way. (Minor, that is, compared to her usual misadventures.) Fortunately, she manages to get in a Moltpaan rail car that doesn't have large gaping holes in it, and doesn't get flooded, and succeeds in holding off some attacks from some stalactite-waving gorts along the way, and some bony creatures that might be grooks. (At least, the Staltoans are pretty certain they're grooks.) She briefly gets a look at some little impish creature that looks like it belongs in Bosch – but fortunately it's only a passing glimpse. Eventually, she makes it to Olympia, and parts ways with her Krozite escort. "Yovne" emerges to the land of the sun again.

Her attempts to find some Himaatian caravan lead to naught – overland travel in the winter is generally avoided, even though it's getting on toward spring now. She does manage to locate a caravan, however, that's bound for Tizhar, which is just about next door to the Himaat, and might offer some chance to move on to the Khattan Emirate from there – but that's still an "if," and Envoy hasn't the connections to make advance arrangements for a "connecting caravan" to take her the rest of the way.

There's an airship bound for Rephidim, "Yovne" finds out, that will be leaving fairly soon. She suspects that the cost for the average passenger would be a bit less, but at least for a Nohbakim passenger, it's 100 shekels for passage.

So, since the only other alternative is to hang around in Olympia a while longer (and risk chance of discovery), Yovne the Nohbakim pays the fare for a one-way caravan journey to Tizhar…

"Ah, so you are the – what is it – Nobbekh?" the mottled-grey wagon driver asks Yovne as she shuffles up to the line of carts. The way he ends the attempt at "Nohbakim" sounds like he's clearing his throat. "So you've pai – Ah! I see you, Avra! He has paid? Good! Ah. You have paid, Avra says. And it was thirty shekels, yes? I do not want finding that you paid him fifty, and my half of that will only be fifteen. See here, if you can climb up on your own. I am not touching any Nobbekh, and you will pardon me, for I hear too many things about them. I should be getting at least twenty shekels for my trouble. But it will be a good ride! You will see. My beasts are very well tempered. But do not touch them. They bite."

The disguised Aeolun quietly climbs up into the seat, using her gloved right hand primarily since the claw that covers her left is a bit unwieldy. "I will need to eat separately from others, if you do not mind," she says to the driver, and doesn't try to correct any of his mispronunciations or misconceptions about Nohbakims. She only hopes she'll have an opportunity to shed her disguise and actually get some sunlight on her skin for a change.

"Eheh! I have heard tales of Nobbekh and how they eat. You will have no argument from Abdul-Matin! But you will likely feed even better than I. I, ah, I should wish for a better meal, but we will not be having so much fish once we are far from the shores of Languor." The Khatta clambers up into his seat, and snaps the reins. The beasts pulling his wagon are furry creatures, strange parodies of horses, with long, thick and ponderous snouts, trunk-like legs, and ballooned proportions that betray little of the musculature underneath their shaggy hides. The wagons start to roll out, along a broken tiled road following the shore of the Lake of Languor – which right now seems a vast sea of mist rather than water, in the early hours of the morning that they set off.

"If that is the only hardship we will face, I should be happy," Yovne says, in Khattan with a hint of buzz to it. She's fascinated by the dray animals, which she's never seen the likes of before.

"Ah, may Fortunatis smile on us!" the Khatta exclaims, and slashes through the air several times with his paw in what might be a venerating fashion, if it didn't come across as being so reflexive. "But I have sacrificed at all the temples, and even to the temple of the unknown gods, so I am hoping there are none left I have offended by my forgetful mind." He calls out to the air, "If I have forgotten you, accept my endless apologies!"

"Are there any mages or priests in the caravan who might sway our fortune?" Yovne asks, seeing an opportunity to bring up the subject.

"Mmm? Ah, none who work in the temple, no. If you mean to say, is there someone like old widow Ajouz who works with the herbs when the beasts are sick, that is as close as we come to a mage – or little Amurra who claims to speak to Ariel Herself, and every djinn, fairy and spirit ever dreamt of – that is as close as we come to a priest. We are but simple folk. We offer our tribute in the temples here in Olympia for our tribes, then return home," the Khatta says.

That's a relief, Envoy thinks inside her faux-Nohbakim mask. Nobody likely to raise a fuss if I have to use a bit of magic here and there. "The simple ways are often the best," she says to the driver. "Will there be any settlements along our route, or danger from bandits?"

"Yes and yes," the driver says. "We cannot use the roads through the Himar, for we cannot afford the tolls. We must go eastward around the Lake of Languor. You have not been this way before? Ah, you will see many things, it is sure, and before we are even out of sight of Languor. There will be Amazonia, where giant Lapi ride on the backs of shelled war-dogs. Ah, but that we do not see any of them! And then, the Languor Wilds – It takes a very experienced traveler to know which kings to pay tribute to, which to avoid altogether, and which to visit in the hopes of hospitality – and, of course, which gods to praise in their presence, to impress them with one's holiness! That is why it is good you are riding with Abdul-Matin."

"You have made this trip successfully many times then?" Yovne asks, trying to shake the image of Lapis riding what must be Vykarins. "You must have many tales to tell."

At this, the Khatta laughs. "True it is, but tales are to be told around campfires. I must entertain the kittens. Worry not. We are far from Amazonia yet. Now is the time for taking of naps." He looks half-inclined to dose off at the reins himself. "The road is long."

The wagon train is not inclined to stop any more often than absolutely necessary, though it seems that at first, while they are still within Olympian lands, they make several stops for trading along the road, at smaller settlements on the outskirts of Parthos and beyond, as they make their way down toward the flatlands. Eventually, day becomes night. The wagons roll out to an open area overlooking the Lake of Languor, campfires are set, a few tents are pitched, and some fish are actually caught for dinner, rather than eating into the stores so early in the trip.

Abdul-Matin has several "kittens" with him around the campfire. (He uses the term very freely, applying it even to young men and girls who are nearly at marriageable age – and sometimes to just about anybody who's even a year younger than he.) Most of them have the airs of having heard any story he has to tell, but there are still the youngest who are eager to hear them as if they were new … and by what Yovne has gathered so far, the caravan does not normally use this route back to Tizhar, but their trades in Olympia were disappointing enough – and the tolls in Himar cost enough – that they decided to take this less favorable route.

"Now, listen to Abdul, each one of you, very closely, for what we come to is the greatest test for us. If Fortunatis smiles on us, we will see not a thing, and you can laugh to yourselves that Abdul-Matin filled your heads with silly nonsense, and worry for nothing. But if we do see them … well, it is best that you know, so you do not stand there gawking in wonder and waste what time you would have had to flee while you can! These Amazonians – they are fierce creatures indeed. Abdul has seen them with his own eyes and lived to tell the tale – but only barely!" He runs a finger along a wickedly curving scar descending from his scalp to run in front of his ear, where the fur is discolored and sparse.

"What would they want from us?" Yovne asks Abdul-Matin. She still isn't sure she accepts the idea of Titanian rabbits, but is willing to listen.

"Slaves!" Abdul-Matin says, waving his hands. "And worse things. No one knows for sure their mysterious ways. They are Lapi maids, tall as Titanians, and just as fierce. They ride on the back of shell-hounds from the frozen north as their steeds. When a caravan passes, sometimes one will appear on the crest of a mountain ridge, as if deciding whether to try to attack us alone … or perhaps waiting for her sisters to come join her. Sometimes, they may be appeased with offerings tossed to the wayside – but at other times, Abdul is thinking this only encourages them to think that the caravan is weak."

Yovne nods, figuring the caravaneer has no reason to fabricate such a story. She decides to perform a Sentinel ritual keyed to detect Vykarins later at some distance from the encampment.

"Not a man among them!" Abdul says, waving his hands. "They are like the Krozites, I am told. They take husbands from other species – especially young strong Khattas – but when they are through with them … they sacrifice them to the dark gods! When they have children – and these are always Lapis, not Khattas – only the girls are allowed to live. The boys are only allowed to grow up so long as they are still kittens, and they serve as slaves – but once they begin to grow into men, they are sacrificed!"

Remembering her Skreek friend Willow's Khatta children, Yovne nods again. Wild magic in the area could account for such things. Although it isn't something she'd personally have to worry about.

"Do their mounts speak the same language as the Vykarins of the Roams do?" Yovne asks her host.

"Ah, that is not known," Abdul-Matin confesses, shaking his head. "These creatures, they look like the … ah, yes, the Vykarins, but they are larger, fiercer, with a great many more spikes, and all fitted with armor besides that. I do not know if they are more than savage beasts bred for war. Ah, but the armor. Let me tell you of it!" He then launches into a very long and nearly poetic description of the intricate details in the armor of the Vykarin mount he saw, perfectly matched with the armor of the giant Lapi that rode astride it. He characterizes her with a savage and cruel beauty, sounding more feline than Lapine in some respects, and in every way a contrast to the stereotypical meekness of Lapis as seen everywhere else.

"Where you ever captured by one of these Amazonians?" Yovne asks, since the Khatta had traced his scar earlier.

"Yes, were you? Did you escape?" echoes a smoky-furred kitten.

The Khatta laughs. "No, no! Abdul-Matin was never captured, or he would not be speaking to you today! This was long ago, when Abdul-Matin was not plump and round from eating so much of this tasty fish! Abdul-Matin faced the Amazonians bravely … and ran away! Abdul-Matin will not invent tales of heroics, for it is best that you know to run away, too! These are giants riding giants, and they think nothing of spilling the blood of little men."

"Would they attack at night?" Yovne asks.

"Ah, night or day, it is of little difference to them," Abdul says. "But under cover of night, we will try to sneak by while we can. The trouble is, there are many dangerous beasts that prowl the wastes at night … but hardly so much a concern as those warriors."

"Has anyone captured one of them?" a rusty-furred young Khatta pipes up. "It sounds like they'd make great slaves!"

Abdul-Matin laughs heartily. "Great slaves, eh? I think it would be wise not even to think of such things."

"How much time do we have before breaking camp?" Yovne asks, assuming they will be moving again soon. She has to feed Knick and Knack, and herself as well.

Abdul nods. "A little longer, to let the beasts rest, and we'll be on our way." He stretches. "Gabbar, you are well rested after sleeping all day, are you not? You will be driving for Abdul while he naps a while, once the wagons are rolling."

The rusty-furred Khatta nods. "Yes, uncle."

Yovne stands, and bows to the others around the fire. "I must attend to my dinner in private before we move on. I will do so behind the last wagon, if that is acceptable."

The wagon driver Khatta makes a shooing motion to Yovne. "Go, go, do whatever it is the Nobbekh do. Just do not frighten the animals. If you will pardon me, Abdul has had his fill of wine tonight." He gets up and starts heading toward a scrubby cluster of trees.

Taking some of the fish and a bowl of water, Yovne retires to the lee of the trailing wagon. Once she feels nobody is watching, she removes the head of her costume and sets it down next to the bowl, and begins to feed bits of fish to the antennae on it.

Knick and Knack gobble up the offerings greedily, and Envoy finds that "just a while" is ample time to finish her own meal. But eventually, the word goes down the line, and the Khattas rush back to their wagons. Once again, Yovne has her costume in place, and resumes her position on Abdul-Matin's wagon – joined in the front by the rusty-furred youth, Gabbar. He gives Yovne a wary sidelong glance, then snaps the reins. "Hya!" And off the caravan goes…

The journey through the night goes without incident, and then day breaks. At first, the younger people are on edge, but without any giants on the horizon, they seem to loosen up. The adults, however – well, it's hard to tell, for certain, but it would be fair to say that as often as Abdul keeps waking up out of his nap to check on things, they're a bit skittish.

When it seems that they aren't about to be ambushed as soon as they cross into Amazonian territory, Yovne at last braves a nap, and by the time she wakes up, it's late morning. Gabbar looks trail-dazed at the reins, but the beasts are trained enough that they seem to require little help to follow the wagon in front of them.

Noting Gabbar's relatively inattentive state, Yovne checks their surroundings for signs of Vykarin tracks or likely ambush sites as best she can through the lenses of her mask.

Far from the road, Envoy sees what at first looks like a jumble of rocks … but as she has a chance to focus on it a bit better, she can make out that it's really a bit of shell … and that there's a broken spear shaft protruding from it, the haft thrusting up into the air. The rest of the spear lies on the ground … and it might be better termed a 'harpoon' than a spear, by some standards.

Envoy nudges Gabbar with her elbow to rouse him. "There are signs of a battle taking place here. There could still be warriors in the area."

"Hu-WAAAAAAA! DON'T TOUCH ME DON'T TOUCH ME! YAAAA UNCLE!" the feline shrieks as his tail bottle-brushes and he almost leaps out of his seat. The beasts snort, and one of them looks back curiously.

Inside her mask, Envoy winces at the noise and hopes the feline hasn't gotten Knick and Knack upset. Or that anybody in the surrounding area heard the outburst, for that matter.

"Goad the beasts, get them running, and let me find my sword!" Abdul calls out, half awake, and there's a sound of things crashing about in the wagon, as he finally struggles to stick his head through the front curtain of the covered wagon, squinting at the light. "Where are they?"

"The Nobbekh! It attacks!" Gabbar yowls, shrinking so far to the left that he looks to be in danger of falling off the wagon entirely if he tries to push away any further.

Envoy points to the broken spear and bit of shell for Abdul. "I was only rousing him! See there? There has been a battle."

Abdul pokes his head out of the curtain further, then disappears, and shifts some canvas aside until he can look out the side. "Oh, Abaddon's Spears! You're right!" His voice drops into muttering, as he rummages around inside the wagon. "Ah, but I was just having the most lovely dream. My very own harem… "

Gabbar blinks a few times, then says, "Ah … so … you weren't going to … eat me, then. Right?"

The disguised Aeolun stares at Gabbar with her three unblinking 'eyes' before saying, "No, I was not going to eat you. Khattas are too stringy."

The Khatta breathes a sigh of relief at this … then furrows his brow at the last remark. He shakes it off, and shuffles back into his seat, absently brushing at his tail to try to smooth the fur back down. Meanwhile, Abdul can he heard calling out the back to the next wagon, and the word starts to go down the line.

Envoy goes back to watching for activity. In the daylight, her foxfire magic probably wouldn't be bright or impressive enough to spook a barbarian. Just in case, she draws the halves of her staff from her pack and begins to screw them together.

The staff fits together perfectly, and a quick check reveals that Knick and Knack are still where they're supposed to be. A little while later, Envoy hears the sound of something being passed up the wagon line, but before she hears it clearly for herself, she sees what's causing the worry – some more fallen Vykarin mounts, and … the largest Lapi Envoy has ever seen, lying sprawled on the ground partially under one of the shelled beasts. It looks like whatever battle has gone on here was a running battle, covering considerable ground.

Even with the sight of barding and armor and other things that might possibly be scavenged, so fearful are the caravaneers that none of the wagons slow down, and certainly nobody hops off to go get a closer look.

The mask hides the Aeolun's surprised expression at the sight of the fallen Lapi. Calming herself, she tries to guess how 'fresh' the body might be by looking for signs of fresh or dried blood.

Alas, it's just too hard, peering through this mask, to make out much of anything. It's a Lapi, it's big, and judging from the armored breastplate, it's female or pretending to be.

"How recent do you think the battle was?" Envoy calls back to Abdul. "Surely the victors would have claimed the armor and weapons of the fallen if they'd had time… wouldn't they?"

Abdul just nods, peering out the side of the wagon, following his own gaze with the front of a crossbow. "I can hear the battle still going on. Let us only hope they are too busy to notice our humble caravan!"

Envoy tightens her grip on her staff, and hopes the Khatta is right about them not bothering with a caravan in the middle of a battle.

As the caravan rolls on, the beasts all at a much faster pace now, Envoy can make out a cloud of dust being kicked up, where the heart of the battle must still be raging. She can hear loud battle cries in some dialect of Olympian, though some of the words – perhaps names? – she is unfamiliar with. She sees the silhouettes of a Vykarin rider lose her mount, and go sprawling to the ground, then shakily get up as her opponent tries to charge her down. With a mighty blow, she unseats her opponent, and stuns the other Vykarin, sending it staggering off. The two large rabbits go at it, swinging heavy blades with blows easily capable of cleaving a normal unarmored man in twain with a proper hit.

"Incredible," Envoy mutters at the sight, and hopes the drays don't panic. All of that dust is probably obscuring the caravan from the eyes of the combatants though, at least.

Abdul's ears are flat back, and he watches intently, his crossbow still at the ready – as must be several other weapons down the line. But the caravan rolls on, and it appears that perhaps it will be untouched. The last Envoy can make out, as the caravan turns a slow bend, is the silhouette of a great Lapi standing in triumph, one foot up on the carcass of a fallen Vykarin, and holding aloft – by the ears – a severed head, as she lets out a loud and very un-Lapi-like whoop of triumph. Other whoops and horn blows sound off, and it seems that the battle must be over. The caravaneers pick up the pace a little more…

"They are probably too exhausted to give chase now," Envoy says hopefully. Given the stamina displayed by normal Lapi though, she can't help but feel a bit uncertain about her statement.

One of the pack beasts pulling the wagon starts to sound pretty exhausted itself. Gabbar calls out, "Uncle, Uncle! Talitha is frothing again!"

The left beast makes heaving noises, and starts to slow noticeably. Gabbar is forced to guide the wagon to the side so it isn't overrun by the wagons coming up behind it.

Abdul-Matin sets down his crossbow and struggles up to the front. "Oh, Arcadia have mercy, and heal our poor beasts! At least so we can escape these barbarians!" He starts rummaging through some casks and bags. "Where is the elixir?"

"Is she ill?" Envoy asks with an edge of urgency to her voice. She keeps glancing back towards the battlefield.

Abdul-Matin says, "Yes! Oh, the bottle is empty! Gabbar, you good for nothing, why didn't you tell me?"

"I did!" Gabbar protests. "I told you we were running low, and you said we'd get more in Parthos! I swear with Primus as my witness, I did!"

Envoy climbs over the back of the bench and tries to make her way to the rear of the wagon. Once the last of the wagons have passed, she figures she can Goop the ground between the stalled wagon and the Amazonians enough to make Vykarins lose their footing.

Within short order, Envoy manages to work off a minor spell at an accelerated rate. By the sounds of Gabbar and Abdul, she can be pretty sure neither of them is witnessing her magic-working. "Aha!" Abdul shouts. "I found the other bottle!" He leaps from the wagon – which is now only creeping along – and rushes up to the poor beast, trying to rein it to a stop so he can feed it. The wagon slows to a halt at about the time Envoy finishes her spell … and she can see the ground behind the wagon start to churn and look moist as her spell takes effect. It certainly doesn't seal off all avenues of pursuit … but it takes care of the most obvious one, and the rest of the caravan has already gone by.

Once the spell is cast, Envoy takes a moment to check for signs that Amazonians are heading this way.

Yes, it does look like a couple of Vykarins and their mounts are riding along, though it's not clear whether they're in full pursuit or not. Not yet.

"That's a girl. Good, good. Drink it down. Gabbar! Hand me down a flask of water!" Abdul shouts.

They could be looking for straggles from the fight, Envoy thinks, and doesn't alert the others just yet, since they're busy with the sick animal still – and any commotion might attract the patrol.

One of the riders disappears out of sight … but the other one stops. Although Envoy can't make out clearly just what the rider is doing, her intuition nonetheless suggests that this wagon is very, very visible.

Suspecting that the other rider is moving to block them off, Envoy says in a very calm voice towards the Khattas, "We have been spotted. One rider may be flanking us now, the other is standing still."

Abdul's smile as the beast takes the water quickly fades. He tosses the empty flask up to Gabbar, then clambers back up into the driver's seat. "Gabbar, take the crossbow. You have better eyes than mine. I'll drive the beasts. Good girl, Talitha! Let us be off!" The beasts lumber forward, and the wagon starts rolling. The Amazonian on the crest starts riding down. She's definitely coming this way.

Gabbar climbs back into the wagon, amidst the casks, flimsy trunks, bundles of coarse cloth and battered old implements, and picks up the crossbow, re-cranking it and readying it – all the while doing his best not to get too close to Yovne.

Envoy reinforces her goop spell as the wagon starts to move, trying to expand the effected area in case the Vykarin tries to move around it.

The area of goop spreads out satisfactorily, though Gabbar's ears perk. "Are you praying to the Nobbekh gods?" he asks, puzzled.

As the wagon picks up speed, the Amazonian charges on down the hill … and then the Vykarin lets out an alarmed yelp, totally misjudging the terrain (for there's really no good REASON for the ground to be goopy here). It stumbles, and the Lapi rider shrieks as she's upended, then thrown unceremoniously forward, to land with a crash and a SPLAT in the newly formed mud.

"Something like that," Envoy says, briefly interrupting her chant. She realizes she may need to remove her mask to get the proper harmonics if she needs to cast any more potent spells. "The Vykarin has lost his footing, it seems. We must watch for the second rider. She may have gotten ahead of us, or returned to her group to tell them about us."

Gabbar just looks, jaw agape, at the spectacle of the fallen Lapi, and looks like he's struggling against all he's worth not to just burst out laughing. He sobers and nods at the reminder of the second rider. "Uncle! The rider has fallen! But there may be more!"

"Good, good, Gabbar!" Abdul calls out. "I am careful not to push Talitha too hard. Let me know if you see any more! And do not fire unless it is certain we are being attacked!"

Envoy turns to call to Abdul, "How far behind the other wagons are we?"

"Not far! We will catch up to them yet!" Abdul's voice sounds more hopeful than anything.

Just then, Envoy hears stampeding Vykarin hooves riding down one of the flanking hills, though with the covers on the sides of the wagon (and the lack of peripheral vision in her own helmet), she can't see where it's coming from. Gabbar cries out, and struggles to ready his crossbow.

A blade cuts through the cloth on the side of the wagon! It carries right into Gabbar, who yowls out in pain and alarm, and he fires through the canvas at his unseen assailant!

There's a thunk on the other side, and a Lapi scream, while Gabbar sprawls back, falling to the floor of the wagon, bleeding profusely from his left arm.

"GABBAR!" Abdul cries out, turning from his reins, grabbing up his sword.

In a panic, Envoy pulls off her headpiece and the bandanna that holds her hair back. She tries to use the bit of zolk as a bandage, but can't manipulate it properly because of the claw on her left hand.

Gabbar cries out, grabbing at his left arm, dropping the crossbow to the floor in his pain. "Curse you!" Abdul shouts out to the unseen enemy, swinging his sword wildly. "Come up here, and let me cut off your ears, you savage!"

The Vykarin gallops into view, behind the wagon, the rider still mounted, but sporting a bolt wedged in her armor. The Lapi grunts, trying to pull the bolt free, but then giving up. It looks like she's dropped her sword, but she reaches down for her slung lance.

Envoy pulls off the claw part of her costume, and tries again to bandage Gabbar's arm until she sees the Lapi. She tries to rattle off a Forgelight cantrip, hoping to scare or distract the warrior by making the metal in her armor glow.

Envoy's horn begins to glow … and then this is echoed by the Lapi's armor. At first, she doesn't seem to notice, getting her spear ready, and barking out some guttural command to her mount that prompts it to pick up speed behind the wagon … but then through the helm, Envoy can see her eyes go wide in alarm, and the Lapi shrieks, losing her spear in her panic as the grabs for her helmet, wrestling with the glowing metal!

With the attacker distracted, Envoy goes back to wrapping Gabbar's wound. "Keep up the pressure on the wound," she advises the boy.

Gabbar just nods, too absorbed in his own pain to evidence any attempt to wrestle with the sudden change in Envoy's appearance. Envoy hears a clank, and then sees that the Amazonian has cast off her helmet. Underneath, she looks supremely ticked off, and she no longer seems impressed by the fact that her armor is glowing. "Close up!" she barks out, and this time Envoy can actually understand the command, given in Olympian. Her Vykarin complies, and the Amazonian amazingly looks like she's prepared to leap onto the wagon from her mount!

Envoy scrambles to retrieve her staff, and grabs up Knack to wrap around her right arm. Her left is still largely encased in chitin. She tries to think of how to fight a Lapi that is obviously stronger than she is, and in a confined space at that!

"Your rider is cursed! See how she throws off her weapons and armor!" Envoy bark-click-growls in Vykarin as she tries to get ready.

The Vykarin makes a confused murr of surprise. "You speaks?" it bark-clicks, right as its rider is trying to leap…

"Yes!" Envoy barks. "Your rider is possessed by a demon of the wastelands!"

… and the Vykarin slows down enough that the rider, when she leaps, manages to fall just short, slams her now unprotected chin against the back planks of the wagon, and Envoy gets to see her eyes roll back just before she falls and disappears out of sight, only to be tripped over by the befuddled Vykarin, and they both knock up a considerable cloud of dust as they go rolling.

Envoy breathes a brief sigh of relief, before calling forward, "Abdul, the second rider has fallen! Are we in sight of the caravan yet?"

"Yes!" Abdul calls out. So far, it doesn't look like any other Amazonians are carrying on the pursuit.

(It also doesn't look like the fallen warrior is getting back up, though the Vykarin is up, and sniffing at her.)

Realizing Abdul probably hasn't seen her with her 'head' off yet, Envoy tries to stuff her hair back into place without the bandana, and looks for the discarded bits of her costume.

In her haste, Envoy hasn't been so careless as to throw her pieces out of the wagon, so they're all readily at hand – or claw, as the case may be. In short order, she's back in costume again.

Her disguise taken care of, Envoy checks back on Gabbar. "How are you holding up, Gabbar? Imagine the story you will have to tell at the fire now."

Gabbar just makes a grunting noise, biting his lower lip hard, and shaking his head rapidly with his eyes closed, as he clenches his wounded arm. "If only we were on a desert caravan – ngh – get – ngh – HAZARD PAY!"

"Think of how impressed the girls will be, Gabbar," Envoy whispers to the Khatta. "You took a blow from an Amazonian and still managed to shoot her with your crossbow. Very heroic!"

Gabbar just nods and forces a grin at this, almost – but not quite – chuckling. And Abdul pushes the wagon on…

The rest of the journey through Amazonia is not nearly so exciting, though there is much concern over how Gabbar will fare, and quite a bit of fretting that he might lose his arm. Still, he holds on, and the old widow seems to know her art, even though it's mixed in with a considerable amount of needless ritual that serves no magical purpose (and of that, Envoy can be fairly certain).

They reach more fertile lands, heavily wooded, dotted by kingdoms and ruins of kingdoms, with countless petty lords with their little fiefdoms, each considering themselves just as important a ruler as any Sabaoth or Captain-Astromancer, Gallisian Marquis or Chronotopian Tsar. At times, they kowtow, at other times they move along with all haste.

As they move further south, away from the Lake of Languor, they see more and more ruins, and sometimes the road they travel on shows signs of once being paved with bricks, though most of them have long since been pulled up and scavenged for buildings that have long since crumbled to ruin.

This land shows signs of having once been part of some greater empire, and now and again there are hints of Olympian architecture or statuary. Here, a shrine to Logos, though all that remains is the portico, and its books must be long gone.

Time and again, there are things that Envoy might be inclined to investigate … but her companions are not so curious, more interested in making good time, so she is more or less forced to just go along and leave the possibility for exploration to some future, unspecified date – provided any of this is still standing by then.

At last, there are settlements to be seen, a few farmlands, though the foliage here looks a bit less healthy. There are trees with black bark and leaves of a curiously dark shade of green, and quite a bit of foliage that looks dead, though Envoy can tell with her own expertise that there's more life than there appears to be. The place has the mark of magical blights here and there, and sometimes they pass through areas completely stripped of any vegetation.

Much time has passed, and winter has given way to spring. The sky is clouded over, and seems to be pondering whether or not to storm. During a quiet time, while Gabbar is resting peacefully, Abdul – perhaps anxious for lack of anyone else to speak to – points off toward a distant ruined expanse. "There is a great battlefield," he says, "where was fought a terrible battle between necromancer lords! It is a Forbidden place, where no airship may fly over, and it is said that the dead sometimes rise to slay the living who desecrate their resting place. That is why the bones are out in the open – for there are too many to bury, and they are too restless to stay buried if one were to try. It is said, even, that a dragon some years ago appeared here, born in the fury of a storm!"

Envoy bristles slightly at the mention of a dragon. "I have seen areas made sick by magic. Do they continue to spread?" she asks instead.

Abdul nods. "Very slowly, but they spread. Sometimes, they turn back … but mostly, they spread. One day, it is certain that unless the Gods Themselves intervene, the whole of our world will be a Forbidden land. And then will be the Final Battle. But, ah, that is so long away, and I will be old, then dead and buried before then! May Ariel see to it that my bones rest in peace, unlike these poor tortured souls."

"I would like to examine such an area if one is near our destination," Envoy says. Maybe if the blight is the result of Earth Magic, it can be countered.

"Ah, but this is the closest one we will pass," Abdul says. "We are almost to Tizban!" He reaches back and pats Gabbar on his good shoulder. "We will find you a healer there!"

Envoy concentrates on her magic sense, trying to tell if the blighted region is due to Earth Magic or not.

Whatever blight is affecting this place, it doesn't seem to be Earth. If she's sensing anything, it's a lot of Spirit activity … maybe a little Mind … maybe a bit of Chaos … but the instabilities suggest something beyond just some big spell gone awry … or else that it's deteriorated into something far worse now.

Nothing I can do about this, Envoy thinks to herself. At least, not yet.

Tizban is a city that seems a mixture of the Himaat and Olympia, down to having a mixture of Khattas and Katthas comprising the bulk of the population. Minarets rise toward the sky, and temples to the Olympian pantheon sport finely crafted columns, yet somehow manage to give their depictions of the deities a more Himaatian flair.

When the caravan rolls into town, Yovne gets more than a few curious stares and gawks, but the locals aren't so xenophobic that anyone goes out of their way to hassle her.

"It has been a good journey," Abdul-Matin says, as he disembarks from his wagon once in the city gates, "and you have put up with our trouble. I had feared many things about the Nobbekh, but if all yours are like you, I shall not be so fretful. May Primus light your way, wherever you journey next!"

Yovne bows to Abdul-Matin, and says, "Blessings upon you and your family, and may you be rewarded with a harem soon for your bravery and skill. I don't suppose you know where I could find passage to Abu Dhabi or Gateway from here?"

Abdul-Matin laughs loudly at this. "Do not wish that in the presence of my wife, that is for sure! I am not a Himaatian sheik that I should have my own harem. But maybe in my next life." He winks. "Hmm. Abu Dhabi? I am not thinking … " He drums his fingers on his chin, as he thinks. "Maybe my cousin… Here, if you are not in a hurry, let me see to Gabbar and the wagon. I will introduce you to my cousin, Shaheen, who owns an airship. With any luck, it may even be in port. You will have to bargain with him for the fare, but you will do better with a word from me than to come to him from the street. No offense, but a Nobbekh needs a word of recommendation to get around in this place."

"I will be happy to wait then, and help you in the meantime," Envoy agrees.

"Very good! Now then… " Abdul sees to Gabbar, true to his word, though he receives a considerable tongue-lashing from the woman that Envoy learns to be his sister, when she learns of what happened to her son. They take him to the temple of Arcadia – though the temple here is hardly anything to compare to Olympia – and a doctor promises to see to him. That leaves the matter of unloading the wagon, and giving gifts to relatives – and Abdul has a very large extended family, it is soon evident – and among those coming would be Cousin Shaheen.

"Shaheen! My cousin, though you are to me like a brother! Come here, come here, it has been so long! How fares your business? Oh, well, may Fortunatis bless it even more! I have here a good Nobbekh who came with us from Olympia, and even bandaged poor Gabbar's arm when we were attacked by the Amazonians. Oh, you did not hear? Well, let me tell you… " Abdul's retelling of the attack of the Amazonians uses, shall we say, a bit of poetic license to make it much grander than it really was, to increase the number of Amazonians, and to emphasize more heroics on the part of Abdul and Gabbar … but at the core of it, it's a fairly reasonable retelling.

"So, I was wondering, is your ship in port? This Nobbekh wishes to go to his people in the Himaat. Do you go to the Gateway Tower? Ah, good! Yovne! Yovne, come here!" Abdul calls, and bargains with his cousin.

"A Nobbekh?" Shaheen looks skeptical. "If you are sure to bring plenty of your own food, you may ride in the hold for ten shekels. I have no cabins to spare."

Yovne bows to Shaheen, and says, "I will bring my own food, yes. And I appreciate the offer of passage, and will gladly pay ten shekels for the privilege."

"Very good," Shaheen says. "My ship is not yet in port, but should be here in three days, four at the most. If you cannot find lodgings for the meantime, come to my warehouse, and if you can work, we will put you to work."

"What sort of work?" Yovne asks. "I am… a soil specialist."

"A farmer?" Shaheen looks skeptical. "Hmm. I know nothing of farming. Perhaps you can find some work planting. Abdul, do farmers plant this time of year?"

Abdul laughs. "That is not my trade, Shaheen, you know that!"

"Well, if you can farm, you can move boxes," Shaheen says. "Or you can find yourself some place to lodge. It is no matter to me."

"I can read and write in many languages also," Yovne offers. She has little idea what exactly goes on in warehouses, but assumes it involves record keeping and reading shipping orders.

"What languages?" Shaheen asks, eyebrow raised.

Envoy recites, "Babelite, Rephidim Standard, Nagai, Khattan, Vartan, Zelak, Olympian, Zerdan, Krozite and the Silent Tongue." She figures she safely omit Vykarin and Nessian in this case.

Shaheen raises an eyebrow. "All that? Well, if … Hmm." He drums his fingers on his chin, then, in halting words, as if reciting them from foggy memory, he says, in bad Vartan, "You gots fluff for brains." Then, back in Olympian, he asks, "There! What did I just say?"

"You said that I have fluff for brains," Yovne says. "I do not, I assure you."

Shaheen laughs. "I knew it! I knew he was saying something unsavory!"

Envoy blinks at this, but nobody can tell under her mask.

"Well then, I think I have a much better proposition for you. I will find you a room. I think I even have a jug of Rainbow Water – had no idea what to do with the stuff," Shaheen says, still rubbing his chin.

"It gives me wind, I am afraid," Yovne replies to the offer of Rainbow Water. She's fairly certain drinking it would be a bad thing.

"Ah! Well … eheh … none of that, then," Shaheen says, steering away from that line of conversation. "Let me show you the warehouse, then… "

Yovne manages to earn a fairly decent wage at the warehouse, especially when dealing with some foreign-speaking merchants. Yovne receives far nicer accommodations than the average "Nobbekh" is likely to expect here, and eventually when the airship comes in, a ride on to the Gateway.

As Yovne arrives at the outer Gateway Town ring, she manages to avoid any run-ins with any real Nohbakim during the disembarking from the ship. It's springtime, so it hasn't gotten quite as hot in the Himaat as it does in, say, the summer … but it's still greatly taxing Envoy's endurance to be in this sweltering costume in the desert heat.

The Aeolun's first task is to get a look at the Gateway Tower itself, to see if anyone looks like they are watching for her. And to check for any 'wanted' posters as well.

As Envoy walks through the outer town, she happens to turn a corner and see a post, where there is a poster depicting a winged ki'rin with a golden horn, white fur … well, basically, Envoy, though it looks like the artist was inspired by Envoy's "Avatar of Inala" days in his interpretation. "Warning: Rogue Mage! Report any sightings to the Guild Hall … " Blah, blah. "… 500 shekels offered for information leading to the successful apprehension… " Et cetera.

Envoy hmms at this. She could plausibly claim to be unaware that she was wanted because the Watch never told her before she left Abu Dhabi, but it would be a bit more difficult to say she didn't notice any of the posters with her face on them.

And then, Envoy hears a Nohbakim voice behind her. "Why for you dress like that, hmm?"

"I have been in Olympia," Envoy replies without turning around. Can a real Nohbakim see through my disguise so easily? she wonders to herself, hoping the comment was aimed at her clothing instead.

"Oh!" the Nohbakim says. "Olympians dress strangely! But it is for looking good on you. Very different, very good. Must go now!" And then Envoy hears several feet scurrying off.

That was very strange, Envoy decides, and turns to try and catch a glimpse of the Nohbakim before it gets too far.

Envoy's "helmet" greatly restricts her ability to just kind of peek around, but she sees what looks like a centauroid crossed with reptilian, rodent and a random assortment of other features tossed in for good measure.

The Aeolun continues her turn, trying to see what may have caused the creature to rush off like that.

Nothing else seems to jump out as an obvious threat. Perhaps the creature just likes to rush about. A couple of merchants return Envoy's look when she swivels their way, but they don't seem to have any special interest in her.

Envoy quickly checks her belongings, just in case the clothing critic was a cutpurse.

Nope. Shekels are still in place. Nothing's lost. Knick and Knack are still right where they should be.

The Aeolun decides to move along – preferably towards a more shaded area – while she tries to decide what to do. Rogue Mage! Are they serious about that? She's fairly certain she hasn't done anything that could actually be traced back to herself, magic-wise. Who can I ask about it though? I can't just walk into the Guild Hall and request more information, can I? she wonders, and starts to head towards the Khattan Embassy. She still needs to find out about passage to Behemoth.

At the Khattan Embassy, a thin feline with markings that suggest that of a Siamese looks up from her desk, and fixes Envoy with a fake smile that somehow conveys a look of, "You don't really belong here, do you?" with the rest of her body language. "Greetings," she purrs in Khattan, "and may your shell stay forever shiny, and your way never be lost. How can I, your humble servant, be of help to you?"

"I am interested in visiting the world Behemoth," Yovne states. "Do any caravans go there?"

The secretary gives Yovne a patronizing smile, then says, "Ah, I do not think so, and for that I apologize with great humiliation. There are no people there with which to do trade. But perhaps, if you were so inclined to see other worlds, you might try one of the caravans going to Abaddon – or perhaps to Ashtoreth? But Behemoth … I do not think the Gateway will point that way without the interest of the Temple – may we never find disfavor in the Captain-Astromancer's eye – or the whim of the Emir – may his fur shine golden like the sun forever."

"Thank you for your help. May you go as far as your talent dictates," Yovne says, and manages to leave the building without shaking. The Temple! While she might be able to get clearance from them, she deems it unlikely to occur while she's wanted by the Mages' Guild. She'll have to clear things up with Caroban, assuming they'll give her the chance. So, after she gets her bearings outside, Envoy heads towards the Guild Hall to try and find out what they intend to do to her.