The Babelite Embassy to Rephidim is housed in what was once the "home" of Kame Ikata, famed Savanite artist (though many never knew his race, or that his owner got the money for the sold works), until such time as the incident that cost him his sanity.

The main entrance leads into a two-story studio, which is fixed up with all the trappings suitable to entertaining guests to the Embassy. Stairs lead up along either side of the room to the upper level, where the guest rooms are. On the lower level, there's the office on one side, the kitchen on the other. The slaves' quarters and those of the guards are presumably in the back. (The Vykarins seem to be sleeping in a shed out back, so they won't stink up the place.)

A gray-cloaked shiga with tan scales walks casually around the premises, his paws clasped behind his back as if he were on a stroll. Every so often, he pauses to look at something that catches his eye, but he always resumes his wandering after a few seconds.

No guards stop the Shiga to ask why he is here. However, a spotty maid pokes her head around the corner, peering at the lizard.

The reptile meets her gaze, and crooks a finger. "You. Come here."

The maiden bows her head, looks both ways, and timidly approaches the lizard.

The shiga's tone is commanding, but not harsh. "I am expected. Take me to the slave quarters."

The slave pauses just a moment, a look of confusion crossing her face, but she looks too young to be expected to make any decisions for herself, and she does as she's told – leading the lizard down the central hallway. Toward the back, at the back entrance, there is one stairway leading down into a musty basement, and another leading upward to the next floor. She turns toward the upward staircase.

The lizard follows along confidantly, keeping close in step, and all the while keeping track of his surroundings to remember the route here.

It's very dark back here. The windows have been covered up, it seems – surely not a feature desired by the original occupants. The maid picks up a lantern along the way, and at the first landing, reaches another hallway. This hallway apparently runs behind each of the three guest rooms … and has doors that would presumably open into each guest room, though no such doors were visible on the other side from the lizard's cursory glances.

The hallway ends with three other doors. One door opens up into what might be the guards' quarters, given the weapons hanging about. Another door opens into a gloomy looking office with a desk much smaller than the ambassador's. And the third door opens into a quarter where a matronly cheetah is mending clothes, while a couple of younger slaves are polishing boots and shoes.

The reptile looks pleased, and it's to this third door that he immediately marches, letting himself in. He smiles at the maid and hisses, "You've done well," before addressing the matronly Savanite.

The elder cheetah looks up to Bambridge, and drops her needle and thread in surprise.

The reptile just smiles. He raises his hands, and they speak the words, "Pathfinder? It's been a long time."

The cheetah looks at the lizard in a stunned moment of stillness … then sheds tears of joy as she rushes over and nearly sweeps the Shiga off his feet in a hug!

Her ears wiggle fiercely.

The shoes and boots, meanwhile, are set aside as the younger slaves look on with great curiosity. They exchange curious looks and finger-wigglings.

Bambridge laughs happly, and hugs back as best he can. Not being able to sign, he simply says, "It's so wonderful to see you again! Weeping-Blue's been worried sick for all this time about those who were taken away that night. I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to hear you're safe. I'm here to bring you home!"

The matronly cheetah lets go, then signs, "How? And all of us?" She gestures to the younger cheetahs … and a few other spotty faces have appeared in the doorway as well.

"Well, I have to admit, I didn't expect to run into this many," replies the Wooden Shekel, his fingers slow and thoughtful. "I should have accounted for the passage of time. But never mind that… if this is how many we've got, this is how many we're going back with! I have an angle." A grin crosses Bambridge's face.

Pathfinger makes a "Go ahead?" gesture with her hand, her ears perking with curiosity.

Bambridge shifts his weight from side to side. "Well, there's not much to it… but I'm not really welcome in Rephidim now, if you know what I mean. Whatever my relations here might be, I made a good deal of money. If money won't get your freedom, then 'services rendered' might. It just so happens I know your mistress, and she's summoned me all the way from the City of Hands for some reason… I expect some compensation for whatever task she had to bring me here for… and guess what that will be?" He ends this sentance by wiggling his fingers where his ears would be, his grin broadening. He abruptly sobers again. "Have you been treated decently here? How many tribesfolk are here?"

"Only eight are here in the Embassy," Pathfinder responds. "Myself and my seven young ones. My husband, Creencaller, is back in Babel." She signs this last with a sad expression. "We are treated well."

The shiga frets. "Babel? I've been concerned about events there, lately. After my work here is finished, that may be where I go next. Volatile situations in the Empire have demanded my attention up until now." He looks over the wide-eyed cub faces staring back at him. "Ambassador Kara doesn't seem like a cruel person, so I'm glad you've been all right… before long, it won't be a factor anyway."

A door can be heard slamming downstairs, and footsteps.

One of the younger Savanites signs, "She is strange. She held a golden vixen prisoner here for many days, and intruders are treated severely. I fear that her wicked cousin makes her angry."

"Wicked cousin?" The shiga listens to the footsteps for a moment. "Golden vixen prisoners, and severe defenses. I wonder what she's gotten herself into. What else has been going on, these days? When I was sneaking in, I saw a lot of people gathered around the graveyard."

There are rapid footsteps coming up the staircase. The cheetahs in the hall slip into the room and close the door behind them.

The matronly cheetah signs, "Hurry! Hide under the … " She looks around, and points at a pile of clothes in need of mending.

"Is that a guard? Tut, tut!" hisses Bambridge, smiling. "I'm expected here. Not specifically expected, but I'm sure Ambassador Kara is waiting to see me anyway. Go about your business, I don't want you to land in trouble on my account, while we're waiting

Some rapid footsteps can be heard in the hallway, heading into the guard room. There is much rummaging around … then the footsteps depart again.

One of the younger cheetahs peeks into the hallway, then signs, "He's gone!"

The Wooden Shekel's hands say, "Who was it? Did he look worried? It sounded like he was moving quickly."

The younger cheetah nods. "He was missing a patch from the seat of his trousers! We'd best mend it when he gets back!"

A couple of the other cheetahs start wiggling their ears at this.

Bambridge snickers to himself. "There must be something important happening up there. I'm going to go see about talking to the Ambassador, and we'll have you out of here in two shakes, eh?"

The matronly cheetah nods and smiles to Bambridge. "Be careful!"

"Always!" With that, the shiga makes his way out, and upstairs, heading for the main area of the embassy.

Nobody is in the Old Studio of the Embassy. All the slaves are accounted for in the back. The Vykarins are still inside. And there are no Eeee about. It's definitely a lapse in security.

Bambridge strolls around again casually. "Hmm… they really ought to do something about this. I wonder what the big flap outside is."

Through one of the many tall picture windows, the grounds can be seen, in their panoramic beauty, dominated by the fountain in the front, in the center of a circle drive, and the orchards to the north and south. Beyond, the gate can be seen, left open and unattended.

"I think Pathfinder's daughter might have been exaggerating their apparent zeal for security," muses Bambridge, peering out the window. A faintly concerned look crosses his face. "Or maybe something's going down… I better check back with Otto and Wart."

A short jog out to the graveyard, and Bambridge overtakes his hired help. "Boss! PSST! Over here!" A hand rises from an open grave. A low moan issues from the other. "Moooooaaaaan! I am the ghost of Landing Day PAST!" "Shaddup, Wart!" "All right, Otto."

Bambridge scampers around some tombstones and thatches of grass. "Are you lunkheads keeping watch like I told you to, or are you drokkaring around? Report!"

"Yai, aye, sir!" salues Otto. "The bats are over there." He points toward the mausoleum and the statue. "Had a big fight with a Zelak. You can see the Exile up by the statue." He points. "Guess the bug lost."

Bambridge crouches over by the empty grave. "A zelak? I thought the only sanctioned zelaks on Rephidim where under Temple control. Was it wearing Temple insignia?"

Wart shakes his head. "Nope! It was trying to kill the Exile. No insignia. Just lots of moss, and it was missing a clawblade. Thought it was a zombie at first."

Otto says, "Zombies don't come out in daylight, stupid!"

The shiga scratches his nose. "The Temple upkeeps its quarter's crickets better than that. Hmm… is the exile gone now?"

Wart shakes his head. "Nope. Still over there with Missus Bat."

"Grife," mutters Bambridge. "She's a nosy one, and her jaw is loose. I wish she'd go away; I'm pressed for time."

Otto says, "Not likely, I figure. Maybe you should write a letter to Missus Bat? Probably safer that way."

The Wooden Shekel nods. "Good point, Otto. After I get it done, you or Wart can deliver it for me. I'll get a hold of the Ambassador later."

Wart and Otto say, in unison, "Sure, boss!"