The primary repairs to the Spring's Bounty requiredseveral days of "dry-dock" on Little Rephidim West, giving Arkold time to secure a temporary position aboard the ship and quarters for Raneah (at a price that didn't overly strain the former noble's limited resources). With nearly a third of the cargo sold off at the paquebot, the Bounty made good time to Paquebot Carnelian. There it took on more cargo for the final leg of the journey to Abu Dhabi.

While Tulani performed her normal duties as ship's scout, Arkold spent the bulk of his time repairing cables and sails that had been storm-damaged, along with varnishing and sealing the areas of the ship that had been rebuilt or replaced. Raneah had outgrown the novelty of airship travel some time before (although the motion of the craft did remind her enough of the sea to ensure a good night's sleep) so spent most of the twenty-day journey in her small cabin with a pile of books, using the opportunity to further her literacy.

So it was that the trio found themselves in the Himaatian capitol by the sea, on 18 Candlemass.

"It's a great place," explains a Jupani to his feline fellows as he makes his way down the street, carrying a veiled and thoroughly wrapped Raneah. "Take a look, eh? That's age – character. It's got, eh, atmosphere."

Wrinkling her nose only briefly at the sight of the hotel, Tulani, the Sylvanian Sphynx, shrugs and nods, following after the leading Jupani, while checking her own sheathed dagger.

Raneah gives the dry fountains a forlorn glance, but otherwise remains quiet. It won't be the first time she's had to do without a nice bathtub in a hotel.

"Plus," the Jupani continues as he steps inside, "we'll find that sand-cat of ours 'round this kind 'o place. Can' be too picky when you're makin' deals like he was, eh?" He pauses as he gets a better look at the interior, then casts Tulani a strained "everything is great" grin. "Can you smell that, huh? History. Go 'head an' sign us up. But, uh, you may wanna use some other name. Y'know, jus' in case."

Tulani walks to the register, glancing briefly back at Arkold before signing the group in as "Asmyeth, Joel, and Lisha."

With a start, the desk clerk wakes up from where he was passed out behind the counter. "Eh! Ah! Err, oh, you want rooms?" the young, bedraggled looking Khatta asks, looking blearily at the register.

The black Sphynx nods and answers a simple, "Yes," while looking back over her shoulder at the Jupani behind her.

"How many beds?" the boy asks, scratching at his cheek. His left eye seems abnormally dilated. "Err, and how long? You want hourly?" he continues, giving Raneah barely more than a momentary glance.

"Three beds," the Sylvanian states, "hourly will be fine." She watches the clerk carefully, frowning slightly at the sight of his eye.

The Khatta looks over at the peg-board holding the chitin keys, and says, "That'll be two rooms then. Rate is five-shekels per hour, plus fifteen percent off any … errr." The boy takes a moment to focus his eyes more closely on the group. "You don't look like no … uh, nevermind. Five shekels an hour, first two hours up front. So that's … uh," he says, then pauses to count on his fingers for a moment. "Twenty?" he asks, as if unsure of his own calculations.

Keeping her face blank, Tulani says, "Of course," and hands over twenty shekels, noticing the crumbling paint and plaster of the walls.

The clerk hands over two keys, and points to the stairs. "Please enjoy your stay at the Purple Rose Hotel, Flower of the Himaat," he recites.

Nodding briefly to the clerk, the black Sphynx takes the keys from him, and turning back to the other two members of her group heads quickly towards the stairs,

Cradling Raneah with both arms, Arkold starts up the stairs. "I guess you girls'll want a room t' yerselves?" he asks as he follows Tulani.

The keys are for rooms two and four, which are next to each other on the left side of the hallway. The light is poor, coming in through a single porthole-style window at the end of the hall, and a haze of pungent smoke clings to the ceiling, apparently coming from the rooms on the right.

Tulani hands over a key to the wolf. "We'll take two and you can take four. Is that okay with you, Arkold? Raneah?"

Arkold takes a moment to inhale some of the smoke, then lowers Raneah and takes the key, saying, "Ah, sure! Just bang on the wall if ya need me t' come kill any spiders."

Smiling, the Sylvanian Sphynx picks up Raneah and says sarcastically, "I think we'll manage," before turning serious, "but if there is a problem we'll call you." She then heads into the room with the mer-cat.

The same effort at decoration evident in the lobby has gone into the rooms, with about the same results. The frames of the two narrow beds look ornate, if faded, while the mattresses appear to be little more than sacks stuffed with straw, and the beddings are threadbare. A dry washbasin and pitcher sit on the windowsill, showing the same fine cracks that spider-web the stucco walls. Even the light streaming through the dusty polished-horn window looks tired.

Commandeering one of the beds, Raneah pulls down the veil over her face and waves a webbed-fingered paw before it. "Phew! They should air place out more often, if only streets smelled cleaner."

Sighing, Tulani sits on the other bed. "Now what to do next? Raneah, will you be okay with how little water there is in this place?"

"Yeah, no worse than airship," Raneah claims, and removes a pouch from under her clothing. "I've got cream from sky island doctor, see?" she says, showing off a jar of balm.

Minutes (and a bit of stomping) later, there's a knock at the door followed by Arkold sticking his head in. "Heh, decent? Yes? Ah, well," he quips with a grin. "Y'busy, need some time, eh? I was goin' to look around and ask for our friend. Partake of a li'l relaxation."

"You mean the key-man you mentioned?" Raneah asks, giving Arkold a suspicious look at the mention of "relaxation."

"Yeah, key-man – sand-kitty," confirms the Jupani. He returns Raneah's look with a vaguely guilty one of his own, ears splaying slightly.

Tulani breaks away from starring at the dusty amber window, to give the Jupani a momentarily narrow-eyed look of suspicion – but that quickly fades with a sigh. "You would find this relaxing," she mutters. "Do you want me to come?"

Arkold gives Tulani a similar guilty look. "What? Can' a guy relax?" He shakes his head, looking much put upon, and shifts to lean on the door frame. "Don' have to relax, bu' I'm thinkin' you wanna find our man an', heh, persuade him to our cause? Then we won' need to stay, eh? Shame as that'd be."

Nodding, the black Sphynx gets to her feet, using her wing to balance for a moment before heading out the doorway. "Well, lead on, MacDuff!" she quips back to the Jupani.

"I guard our stuff," Raneah offers, clearly not attracted to the idea of being carried around the smelly streets under that hot sun.

The wolf gives Raneah a thumbs up. "Right. Anythin' happens you yell for me, eh Raneah? I'll be here." He straightens to clear the doorway for Tulani so she can step out. "Lock the door, huh? Maybe push some stuff in fron' o' it, jus' in case. Won' be far." He gives the room – and Raneah – one more considering glance before he steps in to the hall. "Yeah, I'm all for shakin' the secrets out of this town. Le's go."

Tulani follows the Jupani down the hall. "Where do you want to start looking?"

"Well," offers the Jupani as he waits for the sound of the door to be locked and blocked form the other side, "Seein' as how we're dealin' with a group tha' don' wanna be found, an' we know how sand-kitty's strange-talkin' corpse pal s'acting I'm thinkin' we ought to make our rounds tryin' to bait 'im into showin' 'imself. Might be someone will know for us, eh? Think you can pull off the act of a Gigi ghost-lover?"

The Black Sphynx wings and fur fluff out slightly as she shudders briefly before turning to Arkold, "So long as you don't want me to talk like a Gigi!" she says, smirking. Tulani pulls out the necromantic pendant from her pocket, "Then this might come in handy," she says quietly.

"Yeah, s'what I'm thinkin'. Le' me do the Gigi-talk, an' I'll say I'm workin' with you. As, uh, muscle. Yeah. An' we got sent 'ere for the map bit. Sound good, yeah?" He raises his brow, grins, then offers, "Or should I say: A-wolf's holdin' up the big arm for the mystery-meister, ya?"

Tulani wrinkles her nose slightly, grinning. "Sounds good. I'll leave the Gigi talk to you, Arkold. It makes my head spin."

The wolf grins widely. "S'part of it I think." Then he thumbs the room next door. "May s'well check next door, eh? This 'ere's a good place 'as got it's bunch, an' maybe they'll know."

Tulani says, "Sure, it's as good a place as any to start."

Arkold's knock is answered by a Khatta woman in a skimpy harem outfit – which, on a younger and healthier looking female would have been quite attractive. "Yes, master?" she rasps. "What's your pleasure?"

The face of the black Sphynx blanks out as soon as the door opens, settling into a calmly detached look.

"S'business," woofs the Jupani as he glances back at Tulani, "-an' pleasure. Lookin' for someone, ya? Lookin' for somethin' too. Wanna glide the mind-wave, got the spice? Got the brain-buzz-chatter man?"

The tan-furred Khatta's face looks blank for a moment, save for her pasted-on smile. "Forgive me, Master," she says, this time switching to Rephidim Standard. "Could you please repeat that?"

The wolf runs his hand through his blonde hair as he returns his attention to the worn-looking woman. "Ah," he utters as if he were struggling with how to phrase the matter, "lookin' for the spice? Your-spice? My-spice? An' a sand-cat moniker Punja? Ya?"

"Spice?" the woman repeats, seizing on the one word that seems to make sense. "We have many blends," she says, gesturing to the various patrons. "How much did you wish to spend? I'm afraid we don't have a blend called 'Punja,' though."

In the corner, a green-scaled Naga coiled around a complex glass water-pipe stares at Arkold and Tulani with an unblinking gaze, while wisps of blue smoke trickle from its nostrils.

Again the wolf glances back at his compatriot before he answers. "Ah … boss-lady … no' much for the spice, ya? We talk spice, but spice later. She, ah, … lookin' for Punja? Sand-kitty?" he points at one of the Khattas. "Sand-kitty, ya? Punja?"

Tulani for her part remains silent, exuding the same air of calm as before. She stares past the woman in the harem outfit into the room beyond, one ear flicking back towards Arkold as he speaks.

"I know a Punja," hisses the Naga, releasing another cloud of blue smoke in the process. For a serpent, it seems to be a terribly plain looking one, with dull green scales and paler scutes, but none of the patterning seen on most higher-caste Nagai. It also isn't adorned by any jewelry or clothing.

At the offer of informationm the wolf gives the Sphynx a nudge with his elbow. "Pickin' the monster-wave Babe-alicous-mover-an'-maker, ah … " The Jupani's brain seems to momentarily freeze as he struggles with his mock-Gigi and the mind-altering chemical combined. "… ah-ah-ahhall right thinkin' wave ringer, ya?" He grins over the woman to the serpent, then glances down at the woman and whispers, "Bringin' the list, ya? The spice? Talkin' to the most-helpful sand-slither now."

The Khatta woman bows deeply from the waist, and steps back to clear the doorway. "I will bring you a menu, Master," she says.

The black Sphynx regards the Naga for a moment, both ears swiveling fully in his direction now. For a moment her calm breaks with a look of interest, difficult as it is to hold with all that potent spice nearby.

The wolf makes some weird and half-formed hand gestures at the woman, then barks, "Night at'cha." He reaches back to grab for Tulani's hand and bring her on inside. "The brain-waves flowin', telled you this a go' place, ya? Talkin' now ya?"

Tulani follows the wolf inside, fervently hoping that breathing the spice fumes won't affect them too greatly. As it is, she's already feeling light-headed, and her vision is blurred … though it could just be due to the poor lighting, and all the smoke in her eyes.

The wolf drops himself onto one of the cushions next to the serpent, making himself right at home, breathing deeply. "Punja, ya?" He reaches up to tug at Tulani.

The serpent turns its head to gaze at the Sphynx and Jupani in turn. A black tongue flicks out to quickly clean its black, unblinking eyes before it asks, "You are collectors of the rare and curious, then?" in a sibilant hiss.

The Sphynx sits lightly on a cushion after feeling the tug on her hand, breathing rather shallowly and trying not to inhale too much of the narcotic fumes.

"Lookin' for the deep-sand shinies," agrees the wolf. He props his head on his left hand leaving his right to rest on the hilt of one of his daggers. "Lookin', ah," he pauses to take a deep breath and breath before continuing, " … ah, washin' up on the thousand-grains kitty? Punja, ya."

The air is slightly less contaminated lower to the ground, Tulani finds, save for a fog of oilier smoke that seems to hover around her knees as she sits.

"Your sSspeech is sSstrange," the serpent says to Arkold. "And your companion remains sSsilent."

"Water-cat talk, ya? Can't ride the waves withou' smellin' like the ocean," explains the wolf as he grins again.

"Don't breathe too deeply," Tulani whispers into Arkold's ear, and then she turns to the Naga. "I am looking for this 'Punja.' I believe he has something I want." She reaches into her pocket.

The wolf's muzzle quirks a bit at the whisper and his ears flick in a mild impression of annoyance.

The Naga shifts the nipple of its pipe hose from one side of its mouth to the other, and focuses its gaze on Tulani. "Ah, you I can understand. I know how to find Punja the Curio Dealer," it says, "but sSuch information is not free."

The hostess returns to Arkold's side, offering a square piece of slate with various drugs, amounts and prices listed on it.

Tulani reaches over to take the menu, and glances at it. The names of the items on the slate are unfamiliar to her eyes – aside from yorspice - but she feigns detached interest. Still looking at the slate, she asks, "How much for the information?"

Arkold reaches up to take the slate from the woman's hands … only to grasp empty air. He gives a deep-throated "woof" of surprise and after peering around for it through the fog spots it in Tulani's hands. This prompts the lupine to sit up and try and peek over her shoulder even as he asks, "Gunna show there's kitty beneath the sand, ya? Got … proof, ya?"

The serpent's expression doesn't change (if it's even capable of changing) at the request for proof. It seems to be focussed solely on Tulani now.

Flicking an ear unconsciously toward the Jupani at his comment, the Sphynx continues, "I will require proof as well, of course.

"What proof would you recognize, if you yourself do not know how to find Punja?" the serpent asks, in a reasonable tone accompanied by a billow of blue smoke.

The wolf makes another sound as he reviews the prices – this one more like a strangled choke. While he apparently tries to come to grips with the menu, he half-sputters a response of, "T-trinkets ya?"

Tulani silently thinks, "Help me! I'm not cut out for this!" before calmly nodding her head toward Arkold.

"I have no sSsuch trinkets," the serpent admits. "It is my practice to sSsell things of that sSsort to Punja, when they come into my possession."

Tulani leans over to whisper to Arkold, "Should I show him the puzzle piece, or pendant?"

"Sssss-, ah, -sort, ya?" mimics the wolf. Tulani, being rather close to the Jupani at the moment, can hear his thin whimper as he re-reads the list between his questions. At her question he just gives a distracted shake of his head no. "Sort you mean?"

"Unusual baubles," the Naga answers in its cold voice. "Antiques, foreign charms and other things that might sSseem worthless."

The wolf's nose wrinkles as his eyes scan the lost for the third time. "Ya," he says as he nudges his companion, "sand-slither s'got it on Punja, pay ya?"

Looking calmly back to the serpent, the black Sphynx simply asks, "How much?" in a cool tone of her own.

Leaning forward, so that Tulani gets a good whiff of the pungent blue smoke that makes her nose go momentarily numb, the Naga taps at an item on the menu. The listed price for the "Blue Vine of Transcendence" is thirty shekels.

Arkold leans forward to have a look himself. He reads the item, glances at the snake, then sniffs the blue smoke in apparent curiosity of it.

Tulani resists the urge to rub her nose and instead nods once to the Naga and hails the hostess to order for him.

The smoke has the same temporary numbing effect on Arkold, and there is the hint of a slight "buzz" from it as well, but nothing one couldn't achieve from a fresh-brewed mug of mateh.

"You may want to write these directions down," the Naga says.

"Huh," says the wolf as he returns to his propped up and relaxed position. Blue smoke curls from his nose from his curious inhale clashing oddly with his hair. He reaches for one of his pouches, pauses, then gives Tulani a "you better do this" look before shrugging and giving her a sleepy smile.

Tulani pulls out a charcoal pencil and a pad, pausing to glance at Arkold. I sure hope this stuff doesn't cause hangovers…