A new day in the City of Hands, after a good night's rest following the visit to the palace, and the Wooden Shekel is ready to get back to business. Hikaru has already taken off full speed for Rephidim (by means to be determined as opportunity arises), and it appears that the black Khatta has already been taken off on his next adventure.

On this new morning, though, there seems to be some new hubbub going on, and most of it is centered around the palace grounds. It's early enough in the morning that many Savanites would still be asleep at this hour – and many indeed still are – but the early-risers have started to mill around the palace grounds, and some have gone back to rouse their fellow citizens to see what's up.

The Wooden Shekel, still wearing his featureless mask and gray robes, stops checking over his packed belongings to look over at the hubbub. "Hmmm, that's odd." He glances at his packed belongings again, then decides he's got some time before leaving for the airfield, and begins strolling toward the center of activity.

Once the Shekel passes through the gateway into the palace grounds … he finds that an amazing amount of redecorating has gone on during the night. Namely, there are now twelve huge statues that stand, one near each of the twelve gates, facing inward toward the palace. They are all of Savanites, equally divided between male and female. They look indistinguishable from each other, otherwise, save for their costumes, accessories, the signs of their hands … and, well, one of them seems to have four arms, and one has a third eye in the middle of her forehead. They stand the size of at least six Savanites, foot on shoulder, and there is no sign of any construction activity as an aftermath of their moving. The Twelve-Times-Twelve can be seen at the palace steps, and Jezebel rushes out the entrance to face the gathered crowd.

The shiga tilts his head back to gaze up at the statues, impressed. "Hmmm… pretty good likenesses." He looks away from the three-eyed Savanite statue to regard Third-Vision thoughtfully. "Pretty good indeed," he murmurs to himself. He watches the Priest-Queen expectantly.

It's impossible to tell the Priest-Queen's expression from this distance … though enough Savanites know the Wooden Shekel to part way for him as he goes, and he could probably reach the steps easily if he cared to. The Twelve-times-Twelve are putting on some sort of presentation, to the accompaniment of musicians … and a magical display that bursts into being, in the form of luminescent, ghostly hands hovering above the palace. "People of the City of Hands," it starts. "Behold, the gods have returned!" The hands then make a circling gesture to indicate the twelve circling statues.

"Gods!" muses the reptile, as he makes his way to the front of the crowd. "Well, Savanite theology isn't my biggest field of study." He stops when he reaches the crowd's edge, satisfied at being able to see around the tall spotted cats around him.

The statue with the third eye is striking in its resemblance to Third-Eye – and not just because of the ocular deformity. But its hands are formed into the words "Night-Veil". Each of the other statues is holding its hands in a way to suggest two words in Formal Sign … in a fashion common in inscriptions that show the names of famous figures of legend. Night-Veil. Fire-Fist. Mountain-Strong. Sun-Lord. Rain-Bow. Healing-Touch…

The Wooden Shekel rubs the edge of his mask in a thoughtful gesture, oblivious to the fact that it's not actually a part of his face, and he can't feel it. He looks askance at Jezebel, then at the huge spectral hands floating over the assembly.

The hands spell out the names of each of the gods and goddesses in succession, going clockwise around the circle. At the naming of each deity, the statue bursts into light or flames or some other display of the appropriate element. Each element corresponds with a Sphere of Magic, it would appear. Sun-Lord radiates with light … and is indicated as being the Sun-God. Fire-Fist is the patron deity of weapons, war and the forge, and the statue is limned with flame while the deity is being described. Healing-Touch is the patron deity of healing – represented with a soft glow accompanied by a chiming sound. Some of the introductions are lost in the many distractions, though.

One of the goddesses is that of the realm of Spirit. She does have a bit of a haunting quality about her … and the display about her statue is the most potentially frightening, as wispy spirits dance across the stone for the duration that her name is invoked and described. "Dusk-Tears," she is introduced as. Even at this distance, the Wooden Shekel can pick out that Jezebel is bristling a bit by the time they come around to this statue. If he hadn't spent some time in her presence, he'd probably not notice at all. Of course, it COULD just be his imagination.

Unsure about his place in this before unseen aspect of Savanite culture, the shiga keeps an eye on Third-Vision, occasionally glancing at the rest of the crowd to see their reactions to all of this. Awe he expects… happiness he looks for.

Some are indeed happy. Many look frightened. Some look offended, making signs of the Star, or the Star and Anchor, or the Coil. No five-pointed Stars, though – There aren't any Savanite slaves to be found in Nordika that the Shiga knows of. It would appear that the reaction is quite divided. Until this point, it didn't appear that Third-Vision had been taking any moves to proclaim any official religion of the City of Hands. Indeed, her own beliefs still remain a mystery, aside from an occasional reference to the benign and vague Star that fits into so many theologies here.

The lizard seems somewhat uneasy as well, though it's probably his poor understanding of magic more than anything in particular. Not having really pondered theology in his concerns and goals of the here and now, he pauses to consider the weighty questions of life. If briefly.

The display finishes. Once it's apparent that there are no more miracles and wonders to be seen, the crowd begins to disperse, most of them heading to do their early morning chores … and some to catch up on lost sleep.

The Twelve-times-Twelve disperse as well. Jezebel just stands on the steps, accompanied by a few guards, staring at the statue that resembles herself.

The reptile sidles noiselessly toward the Priest-Queen, then stands respectfully for a few moments to allow her to regard the statue for a while. After a while, he risks breaking her train of thought with his voice. "A most impressive… ceremony? Your Highness."

Jezebel snaps out of her gaze, and looks at the Wooden Shekel. "Greetings. Have you finished making preparations for your journey? The palace is at your disposal."

Bambridge nods once, and his gloved hands rise from his cloak to sign. "I was just about to leave, your Majesty. The boat will wait by the river for as long as I need it to… and from there, I'll merely wait again for my airship. The presentation with the statues caught my eye, so I thought I'd look it over. It was a fascinating look at Savanite… religion?" The reptile tilts his head. "Forgive my ignorance, O Priest-Queen. My time with the Dusty Tear showed me only aspects of their own brand of ancestral reverance."

Third-Vision frowns. "It was a surprising look as well. It would have been nice for the Twelve to tell me that they expected a miracle from the gods."

"Miracle, your Highness?" The Wooden Shekel takes another contemplative glance at the statues. "What sort of miracle are they expecting, and to serve what purpose, if I may?"

Third-Vision makes a sweeping gesture, encompassing those statues visible from this side of the palace. "This miracle. Statues erected by the gods. Do they really think we're all such superstitious fools? That we can't tell magic from a true miracle. True miracles don't come with staged productions. Not in any legend that I recall, in any case."

The shiga bobs his head slowly. "Not 'true' miracles, no. Though as far as I'm concerned, all miracles are made, and trusting the intangible to do things for you is folly. Perhaps the Twelve are most interested in engineering a miracle. For … laudable reasons, I'm sure?" This last sounds far more like question than statement, though phrased in such a way as to be less risky than outright questionning.

Third-Vision signs, "Politics. They don't like how fast I'm moving. So they're setting the fields afire behind me. Whether they're laudable or not depends on your point of view."

Bambridge looks vaguely discomfitted. "I've seen my share of political systems mired in this kind of opposition. The Empire likes to swamp itself in red tape. The Babelites seem to keep one another in check with dangerous little status games. Everyone seems to have a different agenda, the only 'right one'. Compromise is the only solution I've seen work, and most aren't willing to pay its price."

Third-Vision signs, "Haven't you heard the tale of the Thunder-Lizard and the hunter? You know, the hunter who wanted a scale-leather coat, and the Thunder-Lizard who wanted a full stomach? The Thunder-Lizard begged the hunter to stop and talk this over. They could come to a compromise… "

"So, they went behind a warpwood patch," the Priest-Queen signs, "and after a few moments, the Thunder-Lizard came out alone. He had a hunter in his now-full belly … and the hunter had his scale-leather coat."

Jezebel signs, "Compromise is only good in certain situations. I feel like the hunter right now."

The Wooden Shekel shifts his weight. "A point well taken, your Majesty," the lizard signs in return. "Are you concerned about a challenge to your authority? It seems to me that the City's progress should speak for itself."

"That's precisely what I am worried about," signs Third-Vision. "I may speak for the throne, but it would seem the Twelve-times-Twelve have made themselves speakers for the gods. Who knows what the gods will say? Will they show their displeasure with my decisions that have been made contrary to the advice of the Twelve? We shall see."

Bambridge looks up at the statue resembling Jezebel again. "Well… it would seem you're included in this, to some capacity. Perhaps your compromise doesn't necessarily mean ending up in the Thunderbeast's stomach … if what you can learn about the designs of the Twelve can keep you from it. Motives, O Priest-Queen, are what all plans are based around. Once you learn the motive, you begin to know the plan. With the interests of the people at heart … perhaps it will be a benign one?"

Jezebel smiles. "Thank you for trying to cheer me up."

"Worry does little but marr your regal visage, your Majesty," signs the lizard, the smiling eyes of the mirth mask looking at Jezebel. "Take everything in stride, and consider things as they come. You aren't as much the hunter in the story as you think. I know not every member of the crowd was awed by the display."

"But that signals the beginnings of division," signs Third-Vision. "My actions and statements will be closely watched. To invoke one deity is to shun another – especially to those who consider their deity to be the true Star, and all others to be idols. Or those who consider their pantheon to be true, and others to be constructions of those civilizations which enslaved us. These gods here are a conglomeration of the tribal deities and their aspects. I will have to brush up on the new lore."

Bambridge nods sadly. "I'm afraid divergence is an eventuality with any growing nation. There are so many beliefs, so many goals and ideals, that eventually factions and groups will develop. They can co-exist peacefully, provided they're all allowed their views. I should think suppression would be so particularly repugnant to your people that they'd never allow that to happen again, even to a lesser extent."

"Let us hope. But it will be hard for me to proclaim open acceptance of all faiths … when the gods themselves have staked their claim on this city," Third-Vision signs with a frown.

"Have faith in your people, O Priest-Queen. They will decide for themselves whom to worship. If they choose these twelve gods, then so be it. Those who don't will not want to accept being coerced. You'll be there for them in that unlikely event, won't you?" The end of the lizard's signed sentance is punctuated with a small bluish-purple flower, which sprouts from the reptile's paws and waves in the Savan breeze.

The Priest-Queen smiles at the sight of the river bloom. She just nods politely, then gestures toward the accumulated "guests" awaiting her audience in the Palace. "Thank you. I should see to the court now," she signs.

The Wooden Shekel bows. "By all means, your Highness," he says, this time aloud. "I'd best be on my task as well. I'll see you again soon, the gods willing."

Third-Vision bows, then heads into the palace, her aides moving about her so that she's soon out of view entirely.

Bambridge returns to his packed belongings, and observes the court for a second. Under the watchful eyes of the twelve 'gods', he moves away to embark on his mission, wondering what the City of Hands will be like upon his return.