On the deck of the craft, a dishevelled poodle stands near the railing, talking with a dark bat who is dressed in flowing, loose robes that dance in the wind.

"You're sure?" says the poodle. "That's unacceptable. I must find passage back to Rephidim immediately. I am on a mission of utmost importance – Many have DIED for the sake of this!" he yaps.

Zoltan quietly enters from around the other side of the deck. He's just on a stroll to pass the time.

The bat holds out his hand, smirking. "Little luck you will have at the Trade Master's camp, except wait you will. But other ways there are… "

Zoltan blinks as he sees Kazhir and the bat. "Hrr… Hello?"

The poodle looks at the hand and says, "I haven't much on me now. As I told you, I am willing to reward greatly whomever can bear me back – Urk?" He turns to face Zoltan.

The bat gives an impatient shrug. "Better things have I to do than listen to promises," the bat says, as he spreads his wings and leaps into the air.

Zoltan watches the bat fly off, he walks closer to Kazhir. "Reward? Bear back? Where you wants go?"

"No! Wait – waiiiiit!" cries out the poodle, as he leans precariously over the railing, vainly reaching out as if he hopes to snag the bat even despite the great distance so quickly sprung between them.

The poodle rushes to Zoltan. "You! You must help me. You MUST! I – Shinies! SHINIES, all the shinies you want!"

The Vartan staps back a bit, but seems intrigued. "How you wants help?"

Zoltan thinks to himself, . o O ( It's something urgent, whatever it is.)

Kazhir says, "To Rephidim. Take me to Rephidim. You are big and strong and youcan fly. Maybe along the way we can catch an airship. But we have to go, andwithout any more DELAYS."

Zoltan blinks, "Rephidim? I thoughts you going along with foxfriend to Himar."

The poodle yaps, "Friend? FRIEND? He's INSANE, I tell you. And – Himar? I don't know what he has in mind there, but I am most certainly not going that way."

Zoltan frowns, he sits down on the deck in front of Kazhir. "Insane? He save you life in sinksand. He seem brash… but not insane. Why you thinks he is?"

"A traitor is what he is!" the poodle snarls. "He is as likely to help you as to stab you in the back the next – and then claim that by doing it he 'saved' you."

"And… " the poodle adds, his body shaking, "I have PROOF! I have irrefutable proof, and the entire crew of my ship DIED on account of it – on account of his treachery and the rebellion of those First-Ones-forsaken Savanites."

Zoltan jerks upright, "Traitor? He say ship blow up… but he never say how. What proof you gots?"

In his enthusiasm, the poodle digs into his one-fine-but-now-ragged clothes, and pulls out a much-abused piece of parchment. "A letter – a letter from a spy, giving a secret sign to Jarik by which he might meet an agent in Abu Dhabi – our original destination. He is plotting an insurrection against the standing order, and his comrades were willing to kill and die so that he could make good his escape to continue his ill-wrought mission."

"Blasphemy," the poodle says. "As their secret sign, they chose to make the sign of the star and anchor, and then the star again. Using a sign of religious conviction as a call-sign between cutthroats! How … how … Is nothing sacred?"

Zoltan extends his hand, motioning for Kazhir to let him see the parchment. "Why Jarik no kill you? Would think that would be first thing he does after leaving ship."

"That is why I tell you, he's INSANE. When I was abandoning the ship with my parasail pack, he leapt after me, clinging to me all the way down. In a … in a … in a moment of stupidity, I fished him out of that sandy dreck while he was unconscious, and onto a piece of what was left of the Lalee-Papu's deck. And then … he had the audacity to tell me that HE had saved ME!" the poodle yaps loudly. "Just LOOK, if you don't believe me!" he adds, thrusting the letter at Zoltan.

The poodle grumbles, in a lower voice. "He probably was implying that it was because he broke my fall that he 'saved' me. But if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have NEEDED anything to break my fall… "

The hippogryph gently uncrumples the parchment. He looks at it with expressionless eyes. "So what you plan to do when you gets back to Rephidim?"

The poodle stands haughtily. "Of course, I intend to take this directly to my father! I will not let him think that the ship he entrusted to me exploded as some mere oversight or mishap. No – He will see that it was a matter of SACRIFICE for the greater good of all Rephidim … of all Sinai!"

"And then he'll take this right to the Inquisitors, of course. And that will be that," the poodle nods.

"They'll listen, you know. My father is a very powerful man. He owns the largest fleet of airships in the whole world," the poodle proudly adds, as if the accomplishment were his own.

Zoltan's eyes narrow. "And what you think will become of Jarik… and this… 'Azhtar' mentioned in letter?"

The poodle shrugs. "Jarik is obviously running away. His mission must have been compromised, and he knows that it is futile to face the fury of the Inquisition. Or else he is simply insane and has no idea what he's doing. As for this 'Azhtar' … I suppose she's going to be in trouble. Judging from the context of the letter, she is but a rebellious slave, and will get what is coming to her."

Zoltan continues scanning the letter. But still keeps his feelings hidden. "Fox not seem like traitor, he not seem insane either." His deep violet eyes narrow at Kazhir for a moment as they look up from the parchment. "And YOU not seem like someone very capable of rescuing anyone. Why you jump off ship and not fight?"

Zoltan thinks to himself, . o O ( This isn't a letter of rebellion. And this Azthar doesn't seem like a traitor. Just a slave who wants better things in life. )

Zoltan thinks, . o O ( She called him a knight… what on Sinai is aknight?)

The poodle stammers, "Fight? Fight WHOM? The whole crew was trying to stop thecheetahs, but surely you should know that on an airship, if any member is madenough to wish them all destruction, it does not take much to bring doom to all.And … besides … that wasn't my role." Kazhir crosses his arms as if daringZoltan to say otherwise.

Kazhir reaches for the parchment. "Here. You've stared at that long enough. There aren't any pictures. Hmph. If you won't help me – then I shall just have to find other means."

Zoltan yanks the parchment away and stands abrubtly. "No." He flatly states.

Zoltan starts to fold the letter. He places it in his belt pouch.

The poodle gasps, "Wha – what do you think you're DOING? Don't you realize the gravity of this? Why – I – All I have to do is testify, and you can be put to death for interfering with this matter!"

Zoltan growls and leaps on Kazhir, pinning him down. A taloned hand grabs his muzzle. "Be QUIET!" He hisses through his beak. "I not say I no help you… but I also not betray a friend."

The hippogryph pulls himself up. "Jarik is on other side of ship. I going to go talk to him. You interrupt, and you never see Rephidim again. You not going to testify against me if you nothing but bleached bones under sand."

The poodle shakes, doing his best to try to adopt a stern expression, but he has little courage, and he is unable to muster any of it now.

"You … you… " but that's as much of a threat as he can squeak out. The little wretch looks as if he's about to cry if he doesn't get his way.

Zoltan starts to stand, and roughly pulls Kazhir up. He makes a point to dig his talons into Kazhir's shoulders just enough for him to feel four little pinpricks in each shoulder. "I going to talk to Jarik. Don't worry… I not tell him we talk." He starts to walk back around the deck.

Zoltan shoots a glance back, "If what you say is true… I take you to Rephidim tonight."

The poodle remains on the deck, only half-rising from his low crouch. "You – you'd better," comes out only as a whisper.

The sand trireme continues skimming across the desert toward those lights … which draw inexorably closer. Some of the crew are beginning to make preparations to slow and stop, though even that will take a while.

Zoltan begins plodding to the other side of the shipdeck; he scans around… looking for Jarik.

Jarik is leaning on the ship's railing. He seems distracted, as if lost in thought.

The hippogryph mumbles something to himself, and fidgets. He quietly seats himself next to Jarik.

Zoltan looks out across the sands. "What you thinking abouts?" He asks.

Jarik blinks, just now noticing the Vartan. "Oh, hello Zoltan. Well, just everything that has happened the past few days… The loss of the airship, meeting these strange people, wondering how I'm going to get to Elamoore. And honestly, wondering where I'm going to end up."

Zoltan winces inwardly at the words. "Hrr… was wanting to ask you abouts that. What happened to you airship anyhow? Why it crash?"

Jarik takes a breath, "Because of me, mainly. I can't tell you any more than that. Too many other lives are at stake. It's better that you not know."

Zoltan drums his talons on the deck. "You also not able to tell me how you found poodlefriend? He is… er… interesting travel companion for you, yes?"

The supporting beams that bear the main sail creak and sway. The wind whips momentarily, a fine spray of sand blowing past and pattering on the deck.

Jarik says, "Oh, him. He's from the airship. I caught a ride on his parachute to escape the explosion. He's a coward for the most part, but he's harmless."

Jarik looks out over the desert, "Right now I just want to get to Elamoore and recover my sword."

Zoltan looks at Jarik, "You so sure?" He glances down again. "Poodle spoke with Zoltan earlier today. He say you… hrrr… funny in head."

Zoltan takes a quick glance behind him.

Morning light begins to shine over the east horizon, lighting the sands as if they were on fire. The ring takes on a diamond-like glitter where sunlight strikes. In full day the Procession will be a white arch overhead, but for now, it is as if a dagger were being unsheathed slowly.

Jarik chuckles, "That I'm what… crazy? He might be right." The fox shrugs, "I'm more a relic than crazy."

There's no sign of the poodle on the deck anywhere. He must have crawled, scampered or slithered away.

"Relic?" The hippogryph asks. "Why you say that?"

The fox shrugs again, "I'm one of the last members of an order of knights, that's all. I cling to old traditions and beliefs from another world and another time, I suppose. The here and now seems to have little use for us. But, I still try and will do so until the the ancient hunter, death, comes for me too."

( Knight… there's that word again. ) O o . Zoltan thinks to himself.

Zoltan squawks softly, "What's knight? Like secret society… is like assassin?"

Zoltan thinks, . o O ( He said he wanted to go to Elamoore to get a sword… maybe to kill somone with? )

Jarik laughs, "In a way, it is. Let me try to explain: A knight of Crydon is someone who dedicated their life to the pursuit of justice, honor, and peace. It's usually someone who has a desire to make the world a better place. We travel the world and try to stop corruption wherever it may be, more or less. Honor, justice, and compassion are the very foundation of our beliefs. It's not a light commitment, at any rate."

Zoltan props his chin up on the railing. "So why you wants to go to Elamoore? You gots sword… why need another one?"

Zoltan keeps fidgeting. He can't quite seem to relax.

Jarik turns to look at Zoltan, "I'm seeking a very special sword. Nothing so crude as this chitin blade. I'm seeking an elegant weapon, a knight's weapon. I'm going to reclaim my sword of steel from the thieves who took it."

Zoltan glances downwards, not making eye contact with Jarik. "And that only reason? What you do after you gots sword?"

Jarik tilts his head, "Fulfil a promise to a friend."

Zoltan scrawks, "Who this friend? Is in Elamoore too?"

Jarik shakes his head, "No. She's back in Rephidim."

Zoltan halfsmiles, "Ohhh… is ladyfriend? Cute fox girl?"

Jarik chuckles, "No. She's not."

Jarik says, "She's just someone who was kind to me once. That's all."

Zoltan frowns, he starts to dig at the wood with his talons. "Jarik… poodle say you were a traitor. That true?"

A couple of Nohbakim crewmen scramble by, one hopping over a barrel with … four legs? They pass on, not paying any attention to the conversation.

Zoltan continues to fidget and fumble. It's as though there's something he wants to say… but can't for some reason.

Jarik chuckles to himself, "Traitor? To what? How could I betray a world I just arrived in?"

Zoltan blinks. "Just arrive? You an Exile?"

Jarik nods, "That I am." He tilts his head, "Did the poodle ask you to investigate for him?"

Zoltan shakes his head. "Hrr… no… I investigate for myself." He looks at Jarik. "I trying to decide truth. Thought I could by talking to you."

Jarik leans on the railing, "What do you think I am?"

Zoltan shakes his head, "Is not know. You help with rescue from sand. You not try and kill or hurt Zoltan or poodle. But I only know you for few days… and you say you responsible for airship crash?"

Jarik says, "The belief of those on board that I am a 'traitor' who caused it. *shrug*"

As the morning sunlight creeps over the desert, turning darkened sand to golden dust, the traders at the camp extinguish the torches and begin their morning rituals. Distance-diminished figures chant and pray upon rugs spread out upon the sands, their mellifluous voices drifting in the wind to meaningless music. Servants prepare their breakfast.

Zoltan looks downwards, he nods to himself.

Zoltan looks back at Jarik. "And you say you nots? Why they think you traitor then?"

Jarik sighs, "Because I'm friends with the Savanite."

Zoltan nods, something in him seems to click. "Lady friend in Rephidim. She Savanite too?"

Jarik nods, "Correct."

Zoltan stutters, "What… what her name?"

Jarik says, "Lady Azhtar, servant of Melchizedek. Why?"

Jarik shakes his head, "People tried to use her to hurt me. I don't care what they do to me. But, what they did to her… " He sighs.

Zoltan stands abruptly, "Jarik, you is good person. But you trust too easily. Remember that." He turns and at a rather quick pace he heads for the fore deck.

Jarik calls after Zoltan, "What do you mean… ?"

At the fore of the ship, a poodle leans over the railing – here made from very large ribs of some sand-dwelling beast – squinting to try to see the camp better in the early morning light. "How much longer?" he asks a nearby Nohbakim who cannot understand him, and who quickly scuttles away.

Zoltan ignores Jarik and disappears on the other side of the ship.

"KAZHIR!!!"

The poodle jerks around. "What?"

Red-horn scuttles by Jarik. "Breakfast?" She offers him one of the ubiquitous fish that the Nohbakim eat.

Jarik winces, "Um, no thanks. Those don't agree with my stomach… " Last night wasn't so good…

Zoltan storms towards the poodle, his hands grasping for him.

The poodle's eyes go wide. "You! You can't – AHHHHH!" He leaps forward and to the side, trying to swerve and evade the hippogryph.

Red-horn manages in broken Rephidim to get across, "That *untranslatable, sounds like 'really croggled' or 'not very healthy'*. Find you better *something to clean the bilges with?*" She swishes her tail at him and then scoots to the kitchen.

Zoltan chases after Kazhir, trying madly to grab him.

Kazhir tries madly to keep out of the mad Vartan's grasp! "AHH! MAD VARTAN! HELP! HELP!"

Several Nohbakim just look at Kazhir running about the deck again, and laugh, pointing at him.

Jarik runs to where he hears the shouting… "What's going on… ???"

Red-horn yelps as the poodle streaks right by her. The fish goes flying!

"COME HERE!" Zoltan squawks. He makes a swipe at the back of his shirt, trying to grab it.

Jarik shouts, "Zoltan! Kazhir! What is going on… ????!??!"

Kazhir does not seem inclined to pause and answer Jarik's questions. He is more occupied with the fact that a very angry Vartan has snagged his shirt, and is reeling him in. "AAAAAAAA!"

Behind Zoltan, Red-horn scampers to pick up the fish. Her foxish muzzle grimaces, and then she wipes off the sand that it collected and munches on it. "No waste." *crunch* *crunch*

Zoltan turns to look at Jarik, then back to Kazhir. He SHAKESHAKESHAKES the poodle roughly. "Tell him! Tell him what you told Zoltan… or I throw you off ship right NOW!"

Jarik blinks? "Tell him what???"

Kazhir echoes, "Tell him WHAT?"

Jarik says, "He's heard me many times say I'm no traitor!"

Kazhir cries out, "Mad! You're all MAD! Mad, I say! Mad, mad MAD!"

Zoltan snaps at Jarik. "I not talking to you!" then back at the poodle. "You think everyone is mad! Now tell fox the truth… or I kill you! Fox not rescue you this time!"

Jarik looks at Zoltan then the poodle, "He's not going to believe me… Let him go. I've no plans to return to Rephidim anyway."

Jarik blinks?

Jarik eyes the poodle, "Tell me… WHAT?"

"Truth? What is there to tell?" the poodle protests. "He already KNOWS everything I told you! And that doesn't change a THING, can't you see?"

Jarik blinks and growls, "Then, you better tell me again."

The poodle barks, "That I saw the LETTER! That letter – That's why the ship went down! Is that any news? Is that any REVELATION?"

Jarik's eyes lower, "You read my letter and assumed I'm part of some conspiracy? A letter that a friend gave me to say goodbye? Kazhir, you're the crazy one."

Zoltan growls and SHAKESHAKESHAKES the poodle again.

The poodle goes, "Aaa! Aaa! Aaa!"

"Fine! Fine! I'm CRAZY! I'm hopping MAD! La la la! See? Have your laugh, see if I care – Now let me GO!" the poodle yaps.

"I kill you RIGHT NOW!" Zoltan snarls.

Jarik shakes his head, "You'd better talk, Kazhir. There's no way I can stop Zoltan if he decides to kill you."

"Talk? I just DID, you ignorant low-life excuse for a fox! Aha! So you kill me! There will be nowhere to run! My father will not stop until my blood is avenged!" This protest, however, comes out more as a whine than a proud threat from the poodle.

Red-horn comes back from the kitchen with a sideways glance at the argument. "Must stink real bad, no?" She stops by Jarik and proffers him another tasty… It looks like an orange, but green and with lots of knobby bumps all over, irregularly spaced and sized, as if someone had taken a great deal of time to bang it up. "Good Nohbakim fruit."

The poodle yelps, flailing an arm in the Nohbakim's direction. "help?" he squeaks.

"What, you want sand bath now?" Red-horn asks, turning her foxish muzzle and hood-shrouded golden eyes toward the poodle.

Jarik takes the fruit from Red-Horn. "Thank you, M'lady… " He turns back to the poodle, "You are guilty of the death of everyone on the ship, Kazhir. By the right of justice, I could KILL you."

Zoltan keeps dangling Kazhir. He SHAKESHAKES the poodle a bit more, which causes his shirt to rip and tear.

"ME?!?" the poodle yaps. His eyes flash angrily. "You – YOU! HOW DARE YOU!"

Red-horn gives Jarik a strange look. "I not dead."

Jarik smiles at Red-Horn, "The ship we were on before this one. Not you, M'lady."

Jarik gets within one inch of the poodle's muzzle, "Yes… YOU."

The poodle screams, "You bring all this upon me, and you dare blame it on ME?!? The shadows take you!" He bites at Jarik's muzzle as the shirt tears.

Red-horn shrugs. Maybe Jarik really is crazy, like their captain was saying. She goes down to the second deck to talk to the other Nohbakims.

With a loud rip, the poodle's shirt tears through the back, spilling him unceremoniously to the deck floor. He hops up and runs unsteadily forward.

Jarik stands back, "I'm sure your father will be proud of you. Destroying the ship he gave you on its first flight."

Jarik shakes his head and lets the poodle go.

Jarik looks at Zoltan, "He's not worth the effort… "

"Oh, great knight – oh, great hero and teller of tall tales!" the poodle spits, as he reaches for a rickety portion of the railing, and pries a broken piece of wood free, brandishing it like a club. "Back! Back, I say!"

Jarik decides he might as well eat. He sniffs at the fruit…

Zoltan glares at Jarik. "Even NOW! You not realize… you trust too much!"

The fruit looks about as viciously toxic as the fish was, the skin covered with some greasy oil.

Jarik's eyebrow raises at Kazhir, "Are you challenging me, again?"

Jarik says, "Understand what, Zoltan?!?"

Jarik puts the fruit away, thinking better of it.

Zoltan digs in his pocket, he pulls out Azhtar's letter. He waves it at the poodle. "Remember this?"

Jarik grabs the letter! "Yes!"

The sounds of morning prayers are louder now, in an alien tongue. The traders are mostly Kavis, it appears, with a few black-furred foxish faces among them, bundled in white cloth to reflect the burning light that strikes over sands. A Nohbakim cries out something cheery in the same language, eliciting a return cry.

Jarik turns back to the poodle, "I see." His eyes narrow.

Zoltan yanks it back. "FOOL!"

Jarik blinks at Zoltan, "What?!?"

The poodle turns and dashes across the deck, strips of his torn shirt flapping behind him.

Nohbakim crew begin to scurry about the rigging, striking all sails. An enthusiastic Nohbakim with two long saurian tails jumps off the side of the ship on one side, followed by a Nohbakim on the other side with short stubby vestigial dragon-wings, both digging their feet into the sands to slow the ship.

Jarik turns to face Zoltan, "I would like my property back."

Traders cry out to the Nohbakim ship, their voices filled with curiosity.

"This letter could kill you! And you Savanite friends! You should have destroyed!" Zoltan squawks angrily. He spies the escaping poodle and dashes after him.

Jarik charges after Zoltan, "I didn't know WHAT it meant until recently, Zoltan! I had thought it was destroyed with the ship!"

The poodle yelps, and looks over the railing. He looks back at the charging Vartan. He leaps over the edge. "Aieeeeeee!"

Zoltan screeches with rage as he chases Kazhir. "COME BACK!!"

As the ship skids to a halt, now tethered to two large lumps of sand which begin to shake themselves free, a delegation of Kavis begin to make their way across the sands. One shouts out, seeing the poodle diving over the side, and then they pick up their pace.

Zoltan screeches to a stop at the railing, he looks over the edge.

The clouds of sand which have been following in the wake of the vessel now blow forward, still borne by the winds that have been driving the sand-trireme.

Jarik stops right behind Zoltan, "Then, destroy it now and be done with it."

Zoltan wheezes angrily. Where is Kazhir?

As the sands clear, the sounds of yapping can be heard from close by… Amidst the group of robed and turbaned figures that is standing and awaiting a delegation from the ship.

Jarik shouts over the railing, "Coward!"

Zoltan crumples up the letter and shoves it towards Jarik. "Here. It not matter. If Kazhir escapes… he tell people in Rephidim. They kill you all."

Jarik glares at Zoltan, "What do you care?"

Jarik says, "If it's one thing I've learned about this world, precious few people honestly care about anyone else!"

The lead figure, a Kavi wearing a white-and-gold striped turban, looks down at the pleading poodle. Some words are exchanged, and then he gestures for the poodle to go with two of his warriors, back to the camp.

Jarik snarls and leaps over the railing! "Kazhir! You are mine!"

Zoltan growls. He look out after Kazhir, then back at Jarik, then back at Kazhir.

The poodle eagerly follows the Kavi … very quickly!

The lead Kavi gestures for his warriors to block Jarik's path. They bare their small fangs, holding the tips of their sword-tipped spears out. "Halt! By the order of the Master Trader Hajeem, whose camp you are now in," their sergeant barks.

Zoltan rushes after Jarik.

Jarik glares, "I have no quarrel with you. Move aside. I have business with that poodle."

Master Trader Hajeem gestures to his other crew. "Crossbowmen, if you please," he murmurs. "I do believe our two new guests are very eager to join our first."

The hippogryph slides to a stop next to Jarik.

Hajeem steeples his fingers. "A moment, sir. Are you aware of our traditions regarding guests?" he says softly, holding Jarik's gaze with his own bright eyes.

Jarik shakes his head, "I do not."

More weapons come into view. Crossbows. Spears. Good desert weapons.

Zoltan keeps quiet. He looks around.

"We have a long and rich tradition of guest-right," the Kavi trader says didactically, raising a finger. "Once we of the Himaat accept a guest under the care of our hospitality, it is our honor to ensure his safety – to defend him just as if he were a member of our own family." He smiles, showing little fangs. "If you are not asking to become a guest here in my camp, I must ask you to leave, sir."

Zoltan whispers to Jarik, "Kazhir ask Zoltan to fly him to Rephidim with him. I ask him why… he say to show you letter to Temple and have Savanites killed."

Jarik nods and whispers to Zoltan, "I will deal with this dishonorable waste, then."

"He say you traitor… that you not to be trusted. So I find out for myself if you trustworthy. Had to be sure." Zoltan continues, still whispering.

Zoltan perks up. "We would likes to be you guests then!"

Jarik smiles at the trader, "I would be honored if we could be your guests until we make travel arrangements."

"Now, the esteemed Kazhir of the honored… and wealthy… family Varomanov has pleaded for my protection." Hajeem strokes a finger under his chin, obvious contemplation. "Which I have chosen to grant for the moment. He scarcely seems of a condition to so much as frighten my concubines."

Hajeem raises an eyebrow. "Ah! Then you are aware that by agreeing to become guests, you also agree not to raise hands against my people, my property, or other guests of mine, so long as you are on my lands?"

Jarik nods and bows, "As long as I am on your lands, I will not harm your people or guests."

Zoltan frowns. He looks to Jarik.

"I ask this only because you are obviously new to these parts," the Kavi trader says with extreme delicacy.

Hajeem looks over to Zoltan, other eyebrow raised.

Jarik whispers back to Zoltan, "He has to leave sometime… "

Zoltan glances away, "I not harm people, property, or guests."

Jarik whispers back to Zoltan, "He has earned his own death if he seeks to harm those guilty of kindness. So be it. No quarter asked or will be given to him."

"Very good," Hajeem says. He sweeps a bow. "Welcome to the camp of Master Trader Hajeem, merchant of spices, cloth, and numerous wonderous fineties and delectables from a hundred lands. Do join us in the tents and out of the hot sun, will you not?"

Zoltan glowers.

Jarik nods to Hajeem, "I would be honored, sir. We may have things to discuss. I need maps of the area and a route to Elamoore, if that's possible… "

Zoltan shoves his hands in his pockets and follows a few steps behind.

Hajeem motions for his new visitors to join him, before turning about to return to the tents. "All in good time, sir. You are of course aware that I am the great Master Trader Hajeem, whose generosity and wisdom are known across the Himaat. But I fear that I have yet to be introduced to your own august selves."

The Kavi coughs delicately and awaits names.

Jarik bows, "Apologies, good sir. I am Sir Jarik, formerly of Crydon. This is my friend, Zoltan."

Zoltan grunts in responce. He's obviously not good at formalities.

"Sir is your first name then?" Hajeem inquires with some bemusement. "Short and to the point, perhaps."

Jarik chuckles, "It is my title. My name is Jarik Fireclaw."

Hajeem nods. "Ah. A title. A fine thing to have. My brother used to have one too, before he met an untimely end. In fact he had seventeen." He smiles thinly and walks with the others back to the tents, where Kazhir has already been shown to his quarters.

Jarik looks around for an escort to their quarters.

"Zoltanos Cambio… of Mountain Shadow… FROM Rephidim." the hippogryph squawks.

Zoltan glances around. "And I needs to get back there soon. Is spent too much time in sandplace alreadies."

"Do you prefer to be called Zoltanos or Zoltan?" Hajeem asks urbanely. He leads them to the second-largest tent in the camp, then holds open the flap.

Jarik looks to Zoltan, "If you go, may I ask a favor of you?"

Zoltan scrawks, "MUCH prefer Zoltan."

Jarik looks inside the tent…

"Zoltan it shall be," Hajeem assures the Vartan. "Will you take breakfast with me before you go?"

The Vartan looks at Jarik?

Jarik says, "I would ask you to see to Lady Azhtar and her friends' safety until I return. I know it's much to ask. Declining it would be understandable."

The tent looks as richly decorated within as any Sultan's quarters would be, floors covered with fine white silk that keeps the sand down, pillows everywhere, a smell of rich incense and mouth-watering food from the chef's efforts within.

Zoltan hrrrs. "Depend on what for breakfast. Is had too many fish… ooooh!"

"I not know where to find her." Zoltan squawks to Jarik.

Jarik smiles, "Sir, a good meal is something I haven't had in a long time."

Jarik nods, "She is at the temple."

Hajeem smiles thinly. "A light breakfast. We move on soon. Some fruits, some cheeses, some fine wines, cold meat. Nothing Nohbakim, I assure you. While their… spices are suited to their own stomachs, I am afraid it is a bit much for mere Kavi tummies."

Jarik grins at Hajeem, "Too much for vulpine stomachs as well."

Zoltan erks! His voice takes a hushed tone. "She work in Rephidim temple? I do work for there rarely… but what you ask is very hard to do. Who she slave for?"

Jarik looks to Zoltan, "Melchizedek."

Zoltan turns pale.

Slinkily dressed Kavi females lounge about inside, one strumming an instrument appearing like a giant shell strung with seventeen long strings, the other singing a high-pitched music reminiscent of music. The third chats with a somewhat bedraggled poodle who is now wearing a robe just a size too small for him.

Jarik says, "Refusal is understandable, Zoltan."

Jarik smiles at Kazhir, "Hello… "

Zoltan scrawk-whispers. "THE Melchizedeck? She with last person she should be with. He temple bigwig."

The poodle does not seem to notice the newcomers at all, daintily nibbling on proferred foods, and looking quite the sort to be in some grand party, smiling and talking to the Kavis … and then coughs and chokes upon hearing Jarik's voice. He blinks, then looks around. He recovers, and smiles. "Why, hello there. An honored guest of the reknowned Master Trader Hajeem! Oh, you MUST try the pala-fruits."

Hajeem steps in and takes his place, amidst the largest pile of embroidered cushions. He claps his hands for servants to bring more food. "I am glad to see you are enjoying my hospitality, esteemed Kazhir. Perhaps you will remember us well to your father, yes?"

Jarik nods to Zoltan, "The same. I'm not sure of the danger she will be in, but… " He reaches up and tears off his Order's emblem from his belt again, "Give her this. She'll know it's from me. Then tell her to be careful and that she may have to seek safety elseware."

Kazhir smiles. "Oh, most certainly, good sir! Your hospitality is unmatched!"

Jarik smiles coldly at Kazhir and takes a seat on a cushion…

Zoltan nervously accepts the emblem and tucks it in his belt pouch.

Zoltan pays no attention to Kazhir. He seems very interested in the floor.

The Master Trader beams. "Ah, my offerings are humble indeed, being that I am a poor desert trader who must pack lightly, but I am glad that they have met with your satisfaction. So then! Come, let us break bread together, Sir Jarik, Zoltan, Milord Kazhir. We are all guests together beneath the eyes of the First Ones."

"Of COURSE, Master Trader Hajeem," Kazhir smiles. He gives Jarik a smug look of self-satisfaction.

Zoltan coughs, and looks up at Hajeem. "Is any way I can get transport to Rephidim from heres? I willing to trade for passage."

Zoltan whispers to Jarik. "At very least… he not able to prove what he says anymore. Destroy letter as soon as you can."

Kazhir smiles. "Oh, no need, dear friend Zoltan. You could simply wait until one of my father's vessels arrives to pick me up."

The bread to be broken appears to be not a traditional loaf, as Jarik might have expected, but a flat round of bread, to be broken off and eaten with a pinch of salt, or perhaps some of the spicy-smelling sauce served next to it. Hajeem breaks off pieces in what appears a ceremonial style for his guests, then consumes a piece himself. Chewy bread, with a taste of tangy spices.

Jarik whispers back to Zoltan, "Indeed."

Jarik draws his finger across his neck carefully and smiles at Kazhir. Then he proceeds to rub the back of his neck.

Zoltan pays no attention to Kazhir. "Is very urgent. I gots bigfancyshiny to pay, if it quick enough."

"Indeed," the trader says as he hands around drinks of nectar to follow, giving Jarik a warning look as he fills the cup in the fox's hand. "I shall send a flyer straightaway to Rephidim tonight to summon an airship from your father, esteemed Kazhir. The Eeee are marvelously crafty and agile, but they do keep their hours."

Jarik smiles at the trader, "Thank you, good sir."

Hajeem goes on, "Now there are no airships scheduled to meet us here soon, but Elamoore is only four days away by land, Sir Jarik, Zoltan. I am certain that you will be able to commission a ship to Rephidim from there, if that is your intention."

"Yes," Kazhir sighs. "They do have their strengths. I once knew a rather talented – and, I might add, beautiful – Eeee who was especially gifted in the magical arts."

Hajeem looks over to Zoltan askance. "Well, as fortune would have it, Rephidim is not so very far away… Perhaps you could go with my flyer, who may show you the way. Only a very small fee for guidance, of course."

The poodle's gaze scans across the room, passing over Jarik, as he sips his drink.

Zoltan brightens. "Yes! that be fine! I can pay."

Jarik nods wistfully, "It's a pity that she's now gone, Kazhir. It's a shame your father never taught you how to handle a ship properly."

Jarik takes a sip of the nectar.

More servants bring more food, sating the appetite of the guests. Hajeem himself eats lightly.

Jarik looks to Hajeem, "Sir, would you perchance know Achimed the Glove?"

"So then. You wish to go to Elamoore, Sir Jarik?" Hajeem frowns thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

Jarik says, "He is in possesion of an item of mine I'd like back. That is why I ask."

Jarik says, "I was hoping to trade for its return."

Jarik takes another sip, "I was informed that he was on the way to Elamoore."

"I see. This is a frequent situation with Achimed the Glove, you must understand," Hajeem says with some delicacy. "He is, shall we say, one who deals in goods recently abstracted from their former owners by other persons, and gives them new homes in the loving and tender care of new owners. But I have heard nothing notable with respect to that person in many weeks."

Jarik says, "He was sold a antique from me. I want to get it back. He is a 'fence' I believe it is called, then?"

Kazhir blinks. "So, Sir Fireclaw, so soon after the ill fate of my ship – however its end shall be blamed – you head to Elamoore? What of your commission?"

Hajeem's eyebrows furrow. "Well, I can sympathize with your desires, Sir Jarik, but it is, as we of the desert say, 'On the winds' – it is out of my power to influence."

Jarik looks to Kazhir, "I was asked by an inquisitrix to recover this item for study. Therefore, a short detour is no break of my commision."

Jarik nods to Hajeem, "I just wish to locate him. Thats all. Thank you for what you have told me; it helps."

"Oh," the poodle mouths. "Well, then, how conveniently this works out for you. Surely you are smiled upon by the First Ones."

Hajeem glances over to the Vartan, who seems to be just picking at his food now. "Ah, but you seem tired, good Zoltan. Allow my servant to show you to your quarters, so you may rest for your flight tonight." He smiles graciously.

Zoltan nodnods wearily and follows the Kavi servant.

Jarik thinks. o O { Now that I some evidence that Achimed is a thief. If I must fight, I have the right. }

The Kavi servant girl slinks with Zoltan out of the tent, stroking his arm. From just out of the tent flap come the words, "You have such strong muscled arms, noble lord… "

Jarik says, "I have no intention on disappearing, Kazhir. I have to return to Rephidim to settle the mess with your ship, after all."

Kazhir smiles and shrugs. "What is there to settle? If it is my fault, then what more is there to resolve? Shameful, yes, but hardly a matter of controversy, wouldn't you say?"

Hajeem raises a hand. "Please, my friends. Let there be no discord beneath my tent. Allow a humble trader his peace and domestic tranquility." He smiles benevolently.

Kazhir dips his head. "My pardon, good sir. It is not my intent to bring any ill feelings into your abode, since you have so graciously taken me in as a guest."

Jarik says, "Or, if I have some part in its loss, I will surely work to resolve that. I'm sorry there seems to have been a misunderstanding between us over something so trivial."

"Now then, there is the matter of your passage to Elamoore, Sir Jarik." Master Trader Hajeem coughs delicately and looks over toward the foxish knight. "You understand, it is a considerable burden upon my warriors to protect a caravan. It is customary that those who travel with a caravan contribute to the expenses of its passage… "

Jarik nods to Hajeem, "I have little in the way of money, I'm afraid. Is there something I can do to pay for passage?"

Hajeem rubs his chin. "No money? Mmm, I see. How are you with weapons?"

Jarik says, "I am a decent with a sword and fair with a bow, sir. It was part of my training."

Jarik says, "My specialty is with the sword."

"Very well. Go with my sergeant, and tell him that I have asked that you be assigned as a guard with the Elamoore spice caravan," Hajeem says. "If he finds your skills acceptable, well then, in four days you shall be in Elamoore. Is that satisfactory?" The Kavi smiles winningly.

Jarik smiles, "More than satisfactory, sir. I am also a medic, if that will prove useful."

"Of course, of course, be certain to tell the sergeant of this," Hajeem says indulgently. "But you had best make haste. They will leave very soon." He gestures to another servant-girl, to show his guest to the honored warrior.

Jarik smiles at Kazhir, "I ask you to tell Melchizedek that I will return with my item. Also, that recovery was requested by an inquisitrix, and that is the reason for my delay."

Jarik nods to Hajeem and stands, "Thank you again for your hospitality, good sir. I hope we will meet again some day. May the First Ones smile upon you."

Hajeem nods to Jarik cordially. "Perhaps. It is on the winds." He bids Jarik farewell as the servant girl escorts the fox out of the tent.

As the tent flap closes, Hajeem turns to address the poodle, their voices muffled by the cloth. But it seems evident that there is a great deal that Kazhir would like to say to the honorable Master Trader, all of which he will listen to with great equanamity and understanding and sympathy for the poor beleagued poodle. After all, what's one mistake or two between two men of wealth and wisdom?