"Envoy!" clacks the aged Nohbakim earth mage, as he straightens up from feeding a small crowd of hybrid bird-creatures that flutter about, eagerly vying for the morsels he's been offering to them on the ground and from his ample number of hands (or equivalents). Some perching on his shoulders startle, then alight again, quickly recovering from the momentary surprise of movement. "It is good to see you again," he clacks in slow tones. He looks tired, slow-moving … but if Envoy can tell at all from the way his antennae bob energetically, he's as pleased as he claims to see her again.

Envoy drops whatever control she had over her emotions and happily hugs the mage. "I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me after all this time! And because I dyed my fur and feathers."

Barabbas chitters laughter. "Now now! A little dye cannot disguise your smiling eyes! For that, you should need not only life magic, but a sour attitude unbefitting such a happy child."

The Aeolun can't help but smile. "I never should have gone to back to Babel after my last visit; I wasn't ready for it. Now I've been expelled from the Mages' Guild, and can't even use magic without becoming a criminal. I've had a horrible past few weeks."

The Nohbakim's antennae droop. "My apologies. I have been advised about this news, and warned severely not to encourage you. I am, after all, only an honorary member of the Guild. I would not be a suitable role model for how they expect you to behave."

"You've always been kind and understanding," Envoy says. "So, no, I guess that isn't quite a proper Guild role model," she adds with a grin. "But if I can fix myself, and show that the Sifras left something in place to raise artifacts to intelligence, I think they will take me back."

"Or they'll crucify you," Barabbas says, shaking his head. "Who am I to question the ways of the Sifras? But the Guild frowns very greatly on artificial constructs. They may respect you for such an accomplishment. They may respect and fear you."

Envoy sighs. "Well, they're bound to fear me eventually in any case. But at least I'll have a chance of being normal in the head again."

Barabbas nods. "Whatever you choose, Envoy, I will support you, even if it angers the High Council. I am too old to fear whatever weak threats they may offer me. So far as I am concerned, I have lived a full life, died, then you helped me cheat death and live again, centuries beyond my appointed time. If there can be such a glorious place as this within the living and breathing world, then surely even greater wonders lie in the planes beyond. Life is chaos. Those who try too hard to order it will either find their order breaking apart … or they will crush the life they seek to control. You must follow your heart – and be glad you have one."

Holding onto one Barabbas' tentacles, Envoy rubs it against her cheek. "Thank you. I could not have wished for a better adoptive father than you."

Barabbas chitter-laughs. "You flatter me so! For none could hope for any more special a daughter. Now … please tell me more of your adventures. I fear that I have only heard the bad things, as such news seems to travel more swiftly."

"Morpheus left me a new gift," the Aeolun begins, "and I had to fight off pirates to escape from Babel as well as to get into Babel… " She goes on to tell of her and Rory's adventure getting into the city, and her own story of disguising herself and fleeing with refugees.

The remainder of the day was well-spent with Barabbas, for he had many little pets to show Envoy, many discoveries, and many curios and little tales to tell of his time in Abu Dhabi. But at last, it was time to go seek out another friend: Vielanika. After much asking around, she has found her way here. It's not the Emir's palace, and the name of the establishment might cause some concern, but it seems a bit better than the Bazaar, at least.

Once Envoy walks in, she can see that Vielanika is looking better. She's dressed in a style more appropriate to the region, though still in her preferred colors of blue and black. Rawrii looks the same as ever, save that someone thought to put a fez on his head and to fasten it in place with a strap.

Envoy has not yet shed her camouflage, as she simply hasn't had the chance (or at least, hasn't wanted to spend the time to do it yet). She works her way carefully between the diners to get close to the performers. She doesn't expect her disguise to fool the Eeee bard or her drummer for long though, if at all.

Rawrii sniff-sniffs at the air, whining, and pattering the drums just a little less loudly. Then he tongue-lolls as he looks right at Envoy, and click-pop-barks a happy greeting.

Smiling, Envoy click-whurfs back to the Vykarin, encouraging him not to interrupt the performance.

The Vykarin nods happily, and continues drumming. Vielanika, meanwhile, evidences no distraction at all. (Perhaps Rawrii frequently finds excuse to happily bark-click-pop-greet customers.)

A Savanite girl comes up to Envoy, bowing low, and makes a rolling gesture with one hand while she sweeps her other hand to indicate an empty table nearby.

Envoy smiles to the girl and signs a 'thank-you,' taking a seat at the table.

A Zerda girl in gauzy silks glides to the table. "Greetings, and welcome to the Thief's Boots Inn," she says in slightly accented Standard. "I can see that you are new here, and a thousand apologies and pardons if I am wrong, but regardless would you like to know today's specials?"

"I would indeed, please," Envoy replies to the girl with a smile.

The Zerda smiles back. "If you are of a vegetarian inclination, we have Emir's Salad, and if you are not of such an inclination, the Emir's Salad with choice strips of sauteed crickhen. If meat is to your liking, skewers of spiced crickhen in peanut sauce with a light garnish. There is also rice soup, fruit bowls, and a wide selection of drinks."

Thinking that she hasn't eaten a full meal in quite awhile, Envoy orders the crickhen salad, rice soup, and three fruit-bowls. "With fruit juice, please," she adds.

No prices were mentioned, but the place doesn't seem extravagant enough for Envoy to worry much over her expenses just yet. The Zerda seems quite pleased nonetheless at Envoy's appetite, bows low, then makes her way back to deal with the order. It takes hardly a moment for the fruit-bowls and the fruit juice to arrive, and not long after that for a hot bowl of soup and the crickhen salad – vegetables cold, meat warm. Through this all, Vielanika's set is still continuing, gliding from one song to the next, while those few patrons here for lunch idly work at their meals, reclining at their tables, laughing and chattering with their fellows, or just watching the performance. Envoy seems to draw no special notice – but then, this is not fair from the air fields, and not all of the patrons are of Zerda or Khattan stock obviously native to the area.

Envoy takes her time eating her salad and soup, while saving the fruit for the end of the bat Bard's set, so that she'll have something for them when they finish. For the first time in some days, she's able to relax and actually enjoy something. Vielanika's playing no doubt factors in greatly to that end.

The tune Vielanika plays is one that Envoy has heard before, one that has a story to go along with it – a tale of a pampered and cruel prince who, in a terrible fit of mood, felt inclined to see blood shed to vent his anger, and so set to have a Savanite slave race his fastest vanderat, the loser of the race to be flayed alive. Ultimately, the slave is clever enough to outwit the vanderat, by throwing distractions in its way, and the alternate ending in which the foolish prince is tricked, and then eaten alive by the ravenous Vanderat is often left out, but the most distinctive part of the song is the trilling, racing, frantic pace that accelerates through the stanzas, to suggest the tense nature of the race – then slowing down again with each one of the slave's tricks to distract the vanderat.

While her friend plays, Envoy glances around the tavern to see if anyone else is appreciating the music … as well as to keep an eye out for a certain Zerda witch-hunter.

She doesn't notice him. But then, there are a few little alcoves here and there, a few Zerdas that could conceivably be him, in different attire, just looking a different direction. Or perhaps she's just being paranoid…

As for the other patrons, yes, there are some who just quietly sip at beverages or munch at their platters, listening to the music, and watching Vielanika. She's not quite as young and fetching as the server help here, but the little moves she puts into her performance still draw many eyes.

At least she isn't being taken for granted here, Envoy thinks, but still had hoped the bard would have landed a higher-profile gig.

Time passes. Patrons come and go. No sign of Zerda witch-hunters. At last, Vielanika takes a break, replaced by some Savanite players. She seems to be about to head off in her own direction, but Rawrii barks and clicks and makes a fuss, and all but pushes her over toward Envoy's table.

Envoy waves to the Eeee, and gestures for her to come over.

Vielanika comes over, and recognition finally dawns on her. She doesn't blurt out Envoy's name, however, but just sits down. "Hello there," she says, at last. "What a surprise!" She looks about the room, perhaps scanning for the presence of other Zerda or Eeee ears nearby. No Eeee, but there are a few Zerdas, though none of them seem to be intent on this particular table right now.

Smiling, Envoy says, "You can say my name. My disguise was mainly for getting out of Babel … although it didn't work very well, really. I've got some fruit for you, or would you like to order something?"

Vielanika laughs. "If you're treating, I won't argue, out of politeness, but I'm doing much better than in Rephidim, just so you know." She smoothes the creases in her silky blouse – obviously a new acquisition. (Given that Rawrii's fez doesn't show any signs of being smashed, it must be fairly new, too.)

"That's good to hear!" Envoy smiles, glad for a bit of good news. "Did you get a chance to play for the Emir yet?" she asks.

Vielanika smiles. "Yes, I have, but I have not charmed him so much that I am playing there still. Were I possessed of fluffier fur, smaller ears, and a belled tail, perhaps I might catch his fancy."

Envoy muffles a giggle. "Well, as long as you're happy and doing okay, I suppose I won't complain about it. What do you think of Abu Dhabi so far?"

"It's nice in the winter," Vielanika says. "I don't know if I'll be quite so fond of it in the summer, but nothing is forcing me to stay here now."

"I didn't know Eeee were migratory," Envoy says, and passes one of the fruit bowls to Rawrii. "Where would you head during the summer, someplace in Nordika or Xenea?"

"Eeee aren't migratory," Vielanika says, grinning. "I am. I just used to be a lot more successful at it when I was younger. But then, I ran into a few troubles, got more cautious, got more settled down in Rephidim, took very few chances … and then got stuck there. While I've still got some years left on me, I don't want to make that same mistake again. I'll enjoy the open sky while I can … and build a bit of a retirement fund on the side."

"Have you thought about doing an off world tour?" Envoy asks. "You'd be pretty fresh on Abaddon."

Vielanika mulls over this. "Mmm. That's a good point. And we aren't exactly far from the Gateway, now are we?" She looks to Envoy. "But I hear it's like selling your soul to get permission to get through, unless you've got connections."

Envoy nods. "I'm not sure if I have connections anymore with the Emirate Embassy, but I've got a request from the Temple to take a team of specialists with me when I'm ready to return there, so maybe they'll be willing to pay our way."

Vielanika frowns. "The Khattans take passing along of favors in stride, but I wonder that the Temple wouldn't look suspiciously on taking me along. Let's see … I could be a … specialist on foreign musical culture. Right. And Rawrii could be a specialist on … vermite cuisine."

The Vykarin tongue-lolls. "Rermite rummy!"

Envoy grins. "There are plenty of nasty critters for Rawrii to chase on Abaddon!"

Rawrii grins at the prospect.

"Yes, well, my point being," Vielanika says, turning momentarily toward the Vykarin, "we shouldn't get our hopes up, Rawrii. But, really, if you can work something out, I would be very interested. I do hope my style of music isn't old hat there … but it's worth taking a chance."

"They seem to treat entertainers with a bit more respect in New Zion, from what I'd seen," Envoy explains. "Somehow they had the same woman performing in several theaters at once, by recording the performance."

"In any case, I'll know better what our chances are when I try to get passage to Behemoth," the Aeolun says.

Vielanika blinks several times. "And I thought they didn't have magic on Abaddon… "

"They've got technology," Envoy says, picking at the last of her salad. "It's like magic but can be mass produced."

Vielanika nods. "Well! I didn't know you could do such things with technology. I suppose it would all blow up if it came here to Sinai, though – after all, I've heard of all sorts of horrible accidents with those airship engines they've been trying to bring over. I refuse to set foot on one of those new zeppelins. They're worse than the old exploding gasbags. I'd prefer to use my own wings, given a choice."

"I don't know, being able to get places faster doesn't sound all that bad to me," Envoy notes, "especially when you have to keep moving to stay ahead of the latest scandal like I do!"