It's afternoon, a brisk, chilly day, but still comfortable to be out and about. Though the clouds rush by, borne by high winds, the mountains of the Golan Range provide a buffer against them, and the air down here on the mountainside is calm – the boughs of the trees stirred only now and again by a slight breeze.

It is here that an Eeee is spending a bit of time getting cleaned up. Alptraum is briskly combing out his white hair after a brief dip in the water to clean it. He then perches himself on a nearby rock, continuing to comb and speaks to the grok. "And just were are you from? You don't exactly strike me as wild. I'm more wild than you, Avralie?"

The grok just grins that idiot smile that would be enough to send most small creatures into wild panic – but by now it's pretty clear that the grok absolutely adores Alptraum. However, with a curious whine that sounds like chitin scraping against wet stone, the shelled "dog" turns, and peers off into the forest. No odd sounds reach Alptraum's ears. It doesn't sound like anyone is approaching by air, and there is no tell-tale crunching of grass or leaves – or patches of snow – underfoot.

Alptraum flicks his ears. "Something up?" he asks the grok. He hops down from the rock and gathers his things, slipping his dagger into its belt sheath. Quickly, he then cocks his crossbow and starts fitting a bolt into it. "Maybe he smells something," he thinks.

As Alptraum warily scans the woods, the grok raises its head, opening its mouth to "sniff" the air. It starts to wander off toward the trees. And then … Alptraum feels a tap-tap-tap on his shoulder!

Alptraum starts! He leaps forward and tries to twist himself around to target whatever just tapped him. "Don't move!" he shouts.

There's a strange noise, something like a bark, as Alptraum spins around, and brings his crossbow to bear on … Autumn-Storm! She has her hands up, though one of her hands has a crossbow bolt in it.

"Don't do that!" Alptraum says, gulping in a breath. "I could have shot … okay, tried to have shot you." Moments later, his crossbow is tossed aside and he rushes toward the cheetah, arms spread to hug her.

Autumn-Storm slips in a patch of snow, and lets out a little squeak as Alptraum suddenly moves to hug her, but the Eeee manages to catch her in time. Her ears wiggle furiously at the mishap, and she hugs Alptraum back tightly. She frees herself up just enough to put a closed hand to her nape in a sign of "Sorry," then adds, "I'm so bad!" with an impish grin, as she finally returns the swiped bolt.

Alptraum quirks an eyebrow at the signing, then grins. Reluctantly, he slowly lets go of the cheetah and puts the bolt away. "Yes, you are! I could have hurt you!" he signs back. "How have you been? Where have you been?"

Autumn-Storm rolls her eyes at the chastising, then signs, "Doing all right. Is this a safe place to sign? I didn't see anybody watching you, but… "

"Safer than most. I'm usually the only one here," Alptraum signs. "And I'm serious, I could have hurt you. Things have been – happening around me."

Autumn-Storm looks around, then points at the little cul-de-sac underneath the waterfall.

Alptraum nods and heads back to the waterfall, then slips behind.

Once inside, Autumn-Storm finds a seat on a jutting piece of stone, where the light still falls upon her hands, and signs, "So, who goes first?"

"I can, I guess," Alptraum signs after finding s spot that makes him visible to her. "First thing is, I'm not the son of a Yodhsunala. I'm the child of a Srinala. Do you remember what those are? The basic gist of it is – some of the priestesses believe I am a direct child of their Goddess. I was the fatherless child."

The cheetah's jaw drops.

"They really don't know what to make of me. I don't know what to make of me. Recently, one of the priestesses tried to kill herself because she thought she had betrayed my trust – long story. I tried to catch her in time but I couldn't. She was falling to fast. I didn't want her to die. I pleaded for her not to die," Alptraum continues. "And – she didn't. She should have died. Just like the Yodhsunala who was forced to try and kill herself because they thought my 'mother' was violated while under her charge. She didn't die either and she should have. The evidence seems to say I can keep people alive. That I can stop death. If it's true, I don't know, but… There's also you."

Autumn-Storm closes her mouth at this, and sobers a bit. "No arguing that."

"/I could have attributed you to the dream ritual and some bizarre link to me, but… The priestess twenty-three years ago, and the one who tried to kill herself on my birthday, landing six, were outside that ritual,/" Alptraum signs and smiles weakly. "/In each case, I was there. That is unarguable. Each case, I didn't want the person to die. I don't understand it – and I fear it could work in reverse."

"I do not like that thought," Autumn-Storm says. "It would be a powerful thing to be able to wish someone dead, yes … but too powerful. I do not like thinking anyone could do that."

"Too powerful to wish them to live, too. Where do you draw the line?" Alptraum signs, then shakes his head. "Not that I'm complaining they've lived – but I'm afraid of myself! And things have gotten more interesting aside from that."

"More interesting, you say? I am all eyes." Autumn-Storm rests her chin on her hands to emphasize her intent to "listen" rather than "speak," while there's a tale to be told.

"Well, more just weird and embarrassing, really. I met a Yodhgorphat at that party and spent a bit of time talking to her. Well, it appears that, she, likes me," Alptraum signs as he makes an embarrassed grin. "And she knows about all that, to boot. So, I've got her eye, and I've got to watch myself and everything around the Yodh. Only a couple know about my dietary needs."

Autumn-Storm nods at this, though she does furrow a brow belatedly after the mention of 'Yodhgorphat', as if she's trying to sort out the name.

"They're the ones who serve the, how do I put it – the Goddess of disease," Alptraum signs.

Autumn-Storm sticks out her tongue at this, and briefly frees a hand to sign, "Poor you!" before going back to her attentive stance.

"That's about it. I'm not sure just what to do about her. She's nice to me, I suppose," Alptraum signs, "But what will happens when she finds out about my dietary needs? Curse me with disease or something." He shrugs and sighs, "So, what about you?"

Autumn-Storm lifts her chin off her hands, then signs, "Well, I'm glad you found somebody, even if she's a priestess. If she really likes you, I'm sure she'll understand."

"Maybe. And one more thing, I'm waiting for Nekara and Sutrana to make another attempt on my life. Once they hear about what happened recently with the priestess surviving." Alptraum signs, looking sad. "I don't know what I'll do if Nekara comes. I don't know if I could harm her."

Autumn-Storm frowns. "I don't know what to say. Maybe I should take back what I said about not wishing people dead. Someone as dangerous as Sutrana… " The cheetah shudders. "But it is my turn. I should be telling you of things." She brightens. "I have found many things in Babel – and many people – and not what I expected at all."

Alptraum settles down and focuses on the cheetah.

"I ran into an old friend, Clenching-Fist," she signs. "He was once a slave, in the same household as me. He protected me. But we were separated. He was sold to a merchant in Babel, and now he is here – but though he is a slave, he is very clever, and has many ways to get out and do what is in his mind to do. He is connected to what is called the 'Savanite Underground'. It is not a real organization – that is, there is no one leader – but he has helped many slaves escape."

Alptraum nods at this.

"But we are not alone. There are some among the Eeee who support us," Autumn-Storm continues. "They call themselves the 'Children of Vael' – named after some ancient mother-goddess of the Babelites – and they even have some shamans in their number. They provide us with magical cover, to hide us – and in exchange, we use our contacts to help them as well."

Alptraum again nods, then signs, "I wonder what they would make of me."

"Make of you? You are always concerned with what they will make of you!" Autumn-Storm signs, then pokes Alptraum in the shoulder. "If you are thinking of running up and saying, 'Watch me suck the blood out of this Creen!' then they may make ill of you. You fret too much! You have enough real problems without that."

"Not that. Look at me, as would a stranger," Alptraum signs. He then shrugs and signs, "Never mind. Sorry."

Autumn-Storm signs, "They put great value in recommendations. I can hardly think of a better recommendation than, 'He saved my life!' In fact, this is something I wanted to ask you about. I do not know how much you even want to get involved … but I have been asked to perform a mission for these people – and I think that your skills may be valuable, if you wish to help. But this is very important – and I cannot tell you a thing more without swearing you to utter secrecy. If you would rather not, then I will sign nothing more of it."

Alptraum looks intently at the cheetah. "We traveled a long time together, Autumn-Storm. We've depended on each other time and again to make it. You know you can count on me," he signs in response. "You have but to ask of me and I'll do it."

"I don't like asking anything of you," Autumn-Storm says, "but this is very important … and if all goes well, you will be paid for your part – not as much as I think the job as worth, but still something. We are going to steal something from the Tower of Babel."

Alptraum blinks. "From that place? That's a bit dangerous. What is it? And I'd like to get back in there, anyway. I'm not sure they're as benevolent as they try to claim," he signs. "What is it?"

"That, I do not know," Autumn-Storm admits. "There is considerable secrecy around this, and I will not even know what the target is until such time as the mission begins. It is some sort of artifact, from the ancient times, something that has some sort of magical power."

"Well, I'm in," Alptraum signs. "If I can, it might give me a chance to do a bit of spying, anyway. When does it begin?"

Autumn-Storm smiles self-consciously. "Even that I do not know. But all I know is that it will be soon. I would not be making any travel plans. I think that it will happen before spring is in full bloom. I will be going into the Tower myself – and so will Clenching-Fist. The group must be small, and very trustworthy – and there is nobody I trust more than you!"

Alptraum smiles at that. "I can say the same about you. Will I be meeting the others soon, then?" he replies.

The cheetah nods. "Yes. Now that I know you are interested, I will make arrangements so you can meet the others. But it can't be here. We will have to meet in the city." She frowns, pondering, then signs, "I know! The Blakatball game tomorrow – Can you be there? I can arrange for someone to meet you."

Alptraum hmms, then nods. "I can try, sure. Who's playing and when?" he asks.

Autumn-Storm nods, and stoops over to start sketching out a crude "map" of the arena. "You'll need to be in this seating section… "

Later that day, Alptraum checks in on Zana in the infirmary. She seems to be doing a lot better when he comes to see her, sitting up in bed, and smiling when she sees Alptraum. "Have you come to play for me again?" she asks.

"Certainly, unless you're not up for it? You do seem to be doing better, but I could be wrong," Alptraum replies.

Chief Preventer Razaka solemnly nods to Alptraum as he enters, closing the door behind him. "I will be in the next chamber, if you need anything. And, I am sure there is no rush, but just before you came, I heard that there is a Yodhgorphat on the premises. I am presuming she will be asking for you." Without waiting for a reaction, she walks to the doorway to the next partition.

Zana grins, though she looks more than a little uneasy at the mention of the Yodhgorphat. "I'm always up to your music!"

Alptraum blinks, then takes in a breath trying to cool down the heat he feels forming in his ears. "Before I begin, can I ask you something strange? Are people here afraid of me?" Alptraum asks, pulling out his recorder and checking over it briefly.

"Why should they be?" Zana asks. "You are a little strange, yes," she admits, "but I do not think anyone is afraid of you." She frowns a bit, as she contemplates this.

"Well, people barely look at me," Alptraum answers, then shrugs. "I was just wondering why. I was also wondering where you heard all those things about me."

Zana chews on her lip. "Well … you're different. So that's why you'd be treated differently. It's not any disrespect, oh please don't think that! Babel has just been through such hard times. The temple is hardly what it used to be."

"Oh, I certainly don't consider it disrespect! I'm not sure I'm worthy of much as it is," Alptraum says with a grin. "Anyway, sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable. It's my gypsy curiosity, I should curtail it. Is there anything you'd like to hear tonight?"

"How about … The Mocking Chibix?" Zana giggles at the thought of the story (silly, and lacking the characteristic morbidity that seems to accompany most Babelite myths) that is associated with the tune.

Alptraum grins and shakes his head, laughing. "Well, sure. I think I remember how that goes. I believe someone played it late at night during the New Years Party," Alptraum replies, running a finger along the recorder. "Now let me see," Alptraum says, taking the recorder up to his lips and blows a couple test notes, then a short bit of the tune. "Yes, I think that's it," he then says and starts into playing what he remembers. Alptraum, for a change, doesn't hold back on his playing and gets into it much like he would back in Sylvania. He moves some to the tune, sort of dancing in place and acting out movements that the melody implies, right down to eyebrow wiggles now and then.

Zana giggles, claps her hands over her mouth at the eyebrow wiggles, and bounces her head in time.

Alptraum continues on, playing and trying not to laugh as he does so. Then, when he gets to the end, he covers all but one of the holes and trails the song off with a silly "fweeeee!" sound immediately followed by a bizarre "fwap!" – as if a creature unceremoniously fell, then splattered into a mud puddle. He falls back against the wall and laughs, struggling to say, "That is one ridiculous song to play. I haven't played something that silly in ages. Not since I left home."

Zana's giggles have gotten so uncontrollable that right now she's just shaking and blushing in her ears, slapping her knee now and then and snorting into her other hand. Every once in a while, she tries to say something, but just breaks into another fit of the giggles – which, of course, only seems to make things worse, as she giggles at the fact that she's giggling. It's a terrible, inescapable cycle!

Alptraum just shakes his head and smiles. "And you call me different," he teases.

Zana's still giggling out of control even when there's a knock at the door, and Razaka comes back to open it up, and let in an old bat on a wheeled cart. He's strapped down, shaking his head back and forth, moving his mouth as if he's trying to say something, but it doesn't carry over the squeaky giggles of Zana. Behind him is a solemn acolyte (older than Zana), and an Eeee woman dressed in white.

Alptraum sits up and looks to the people entering, suddenly becoming serious.

Zana looks past Alptraum, and claps her hands tightly over her mouth, trying to get control of herself, even as tears come to her eyes. She breaks into coughing, and blushes terribly as she tries to quiet down – especially when Razaka gives her a disapproving look.

"Who is this, if I may ask?" Alptraum asks Razaka, trying to draw her attention away from Zana.

"Shola, guide them to Partition Four," Razaka instructs the other acolyte, and then she looks back to Alptraum. "He is an old Eeee, unable to support himself, and his family is unable to care for him any further."

"And?" Alptraum asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

The acolyte addressed as Shola quietly whispers some prayers, as she guides the wheeled cart down through the doorway to the next partition. The Eeee woman in white strides solemnly behind them, her fine linens rustling with each movement. Even her jewelry is white – a pearl necklace ornamented with ivory beads. Only once they have passed into the next room does Razaka continue. "He is being kept here. I am the Chief Preventer of Death, so this is beyond my purview. Asterezadze will be summoned to ease him into the Next Realm."

"You're going to kill him, aren't you," Alptraum says flatly.

"Please, no," the old Eeee weakly protests, his voice carrying even through the doorway. The woman in white just leans over and pats him on the hand. "Hush, father. I'm with you all the way." Shola leads them around a corner, and then closes a door behind them.

Razaka just sighs. "I did not expect them down here so early for their appointment, or I would have had you reschedule your visit with Zana. This is none of our business. The family has requested it. The old man obviously cannot care for himself."

Alptraum clenches his fists tightly, holding back the anger starting to rise in him. "This is wrong," he says slowly, trying to remain calm. "He should be allowed to meet his end on his own terms and in his own time. Not cast off like this. With jewelry like that, she could easily afford basic support for him," Alptraum accuses.

Razaka says, "Should his family be forced to sell off every worldly possession they have, to stretch his life out a year longer? You saw him, how frail he is. He probably will not last much longer anyway – but there is no way to know. If he were truly to go out on his own terms and his own time … well, then, he would have to fend for himself. And I think we both know what would become of him, if his family simply left him to his own devices. It would be far more cruel than the means Yodhsunala Asterezadze will provide."

Zana just shrinks back in her covers, peering over the tops of the bed sheets she has drawn up to her face.

"So cast him off just because it might make their life a bit harder? Cast away one whom helped bring her into the world and support her?" Alptraum replies, starting to grit his teeth in anger. He then turns and screams at the door, "Ingrate!"

Razaka frowns and sighs, not meeting his eyes. "There is nothing you can do for him. Not unless there is some miracle you can perform, to make him young again." At this, she looks up, almost as if daring him. "But he is beyond the ability of either of us to help."

Alptraum clenches his fists again, glaring back in anger. Inside, he wishes he could do something to help the old man, to restore him to some extent to survive. "If I am the child of a Goddess, then give me the power to do this," he says inwardly, wishing he could do something, anything.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like any divine intervention is leaping to Alptraum's aid – or to that of the unnamed old Eeee. The door opens and closes again, and Shola walks back into the main room. She bows to Razaka. "The daughter wishes to remain with her father until Yodhsunala Asterezadze can be summoned."

Alptraum turns and looks towards the door that Shola came through, then starts walking towards it.

"Alptraum," Razaka says, in a quiet voice. "You are not going in there. She is not going to listen to you."

"I have to try," Alptraum says, placing his hand on the door handle, "or I might as well have killed him myself."

"She can do things to you, Alptraum," Razaka says, looking up again. "I know you're special. Everyone knows that. But there's only so far that can be pressed. She stands to inherit a considerable sum, a considerable portion of which she will be donating to this temple. And I know what you must be thinking – and it's probably all true. Alptraum, I cannot have you go in there. If you are going to talk to anyone, then speak to Yodhsunala Asterezadze. But do not go in there, or I will be forced to stop you, by any means necessary."

Alptraum turns and looks at Razaka, silver eyes narrowed and fangs bared. "Everyone can do things to me, Razaka. I am far from special, not that it matters. You would stop me, over money? MONEY!?" Alptraum says, nearly screaming. "Money is nothing! Life matters! People matter! People are NOT disposable when it becomes 'inconvenient'!"

"No, Alptraum, I am not going to stop you over money." Razaka steps closer. "I am going to stop you because if I don't, you are going to be dead. I'm the Preventer of Death, remember? Nobody dies in these rooms. Not even old Master Garoun – That will happen in the Chamber of Passing."

"Bah, what happened to the belief that I am immortal?" Alptraum replies, angered, but un-moving. "You all want proof of it, one way or another – here's your chance."

"Step away from the door," Razaka says.

Alptraum just looks at Razaka, breathing slow and steady.

Razaka stands there, watching Alptraum. Shola slips out to the hallway.

"I thought you were going to stop me," Alptraum says slowly.

"I would far rather that you step away from that door," Razaka says.

"You know I can't," Alptraum says, looking into Razaka's eyes.

"And I can't let you enter that room," Razaka says. "I know you are trying to make a point, but it won't work."

Alptraum's hand tightens around the door handle. "Who is she?" Alptraum asks coldly.

Razaka's shoulders tense, and her right hand tightens. "Miss Mara Garoun. She is the eldest surviving child of Master Garoun."

"Noted," Alptraum says, then lets go of the door handle. "You can inform Yodhsunala Asterezadze I will be leaving this evening. Please thank her for the hospitality I've been shown."

Razaka's shoulders loosen very slightly, but she's still evidently on guard. "I will inform her."

Alptraum steps away from the door and walks over to Zana. He leans in and says, "Goodbye Zana. I am sorry, for everything." He then offers her a sad smile before pulling away.

Zana looks incredulous. "Alp- Alptraum? You … you're not coming back?"

"I don't intend to, no," Alptraum says quietly.

Zana looks crestfallen. "Well … take care of yourself," she finally says.

"You too, Zana. Maybe we'll meet again someday," he replies.

The door opens to the infirmary again, and out in the hall are several guards, with a Yodhsunala leading them, and Shola lurking in the rear.

Alptraum's gaze goes to the Yodhsunala.

Razaka says, "Thank you, but I think we have things under control." She then gestures toward the door. "Alptraum."

Alptraum looks to Zana once more, then to Razaka. "This is far from over," Alptraum says coldly, then heads towards the gestured door.

On his way out, Alptraum receives word that there's a Yodhgorphat waiting for him – and though he isn't told as such, it doesn't take much to guess that it's Phlagaea. Sure enough, when he heads outside, Phlagaea is there, stomping from foot to foot to try to keep warm. She seems so preoccupied with this little keep-warm dance that she doesn't even notice Alptraum's approach. (After all, with so many Yodhsunala coming and going, she probably tired of jumping at every noise long ago.)

"You should find some warmer clothing to wear when out here. You're not as used to the cold and what you're wearing isn't much," Alptraum says in greeting, sounding rather tired.

"Ah! There you are! Well, I wasn't expecting to be kept waiting so long!" Phlagaea retorts. "The weather's not so bad, so long as you keep moving. Say, are you busy tomorrow?"

"Sorry, some things came up," Alptraum apologizes. "I'm supposed to meet some people about work tomorrow. Good thing too, it seems. Looks like I may be returning to the road sooner than I planned," Alptraum says, looking down.

"The road? Don't tell me you're leaving Babel!" Phlagaea says, putting her hands to her hips. "Let me guess. You broke some sort of rule. Failed to bow seventy times before walking past the Sacred Mausoleum, or something like that. Well, that's hardly reason to leave the city. And whatever it is about work, it can wait. We've put together our own team – For the glory of Gorphat, we are going to beat the Yodhblakat at their own game tomorrow! And if we don't, we'll see to it that they all come down with nasty rashes."

Alptraum laughs lightly at that, then says, "No, no rule. I just – disagreed with something. I nearly attacked one of them. I wanted to. Every part of me wanted to do something, but then reason stayed my hand. It would have been pointless." He sighs and says, "Funny, part of me wants to just hit the road and keep going. Part of me doesn't. There are people that matter to me here."

"Ooooh! I know how you mean. Just once, I would like to punch one of those pretty little Yodhinala right in her perfect little inbred face. Or give her a zit right on the tip of her perfect little nose. But I've just never had a proper excuse. There's a proper way to go about these things, after all," Phlagaea says.

"It's more than that. I disagree with being willing to take someone's life over money," Alptraum says, looking back towards the temple. "It's wrong. As for the game, that's where I'm supposed to meet up with someone. A friend set it up and I have to keep the promise."

"Ohhh! Well then, you can come with me!" Phlagaea says, reaching out and wrapping her arm around Alptraum, as if she's fully intending to drag him off to the arena right now if she has a chance to. "It will be the pleasure of the Temple of Gorphat to honor you, in the interests of showing our great respect for Gorphat's esteemed Sister, Sunala. You'll get a perfect seat."

Alptraum blinks repeatedly. "Uh, I've already got a place to sit. I could probably watch part of the game, but I'd have to go to the meeting at some point," Alptraum says. He then leans his head down to rest against the Yodhgorphat's shoulder. "Would it bother you if I left Babel?" he asks.

"Terribly!" Phlagaea says. "I'd fall ill!"

Alptraum looks up. "Isn't that normal?" he asks.

Phlagaea frowns, letting go of Alptraum. "Ah, you would not understand. So then! It is settled – I will pick you up tomorrow at noon. And when you have to go off to your meeting, that is fine, so long as you are back in time for the finish."

"I'll try to make it back. I don't know how long the meeting will be," Alptraum says with a nod. "Must you go so soon?"

"I do not think your sisters would like it if I overstay my welcome, now that I have seen you. But you can always go with me." Phlagaea grins.

"Where?" Alptraum asks. "I just – need some time away from this place and clear my head."

Phlagaea hmms. "Well, we Yodhgorphat know a great many places in the Streets Below. Old ruins, old shrines, old monuments. We have to, what with all the work we do to keep down the spread of disease."

"That works. If you know of anyplace interesting, I'll go for a bit," Alptraum replies.

"Just let me go tell Razaka I'm going to cool down and decide what I will be doing, okay?" Alptraum then adds.

"Of course! Whatever you wish," Phlagaea says, nearly giggling. "I'll just wait here."

Alptraum looks at Phlagaea for a moment, then heads back inside to talk to Razaka. On his way, he decides he'll also tell Zana he will be deciding what he will do, after he calms down. "Traum, you are right and this it is wrong. But, is just running really the answer? Without even having a place to go?" he tries to rationalize.

The ritual chanting of the Yodhsunala, Alptraum notices, has quieted, to be replaced by the shuffle of heavy ropes, the steps of many booted feet, and the steady rap-rap-rap of a priestess's staff and the ringing of hanging chimes. As Alptraum sees down one of the twisting corridors, there's a procession heading through the temple – Sunala is heading to Her throne.

Alptraum listens, then tries to follow the sounds.

It sounds as if the procession will be heading this way. Unless Alptraum deliberately heads down some side way (which would not be in the least bit hard to do), he's definitely going to see the procession go by.

Alptraum simply moves to the side wall and bows his head in respect for the procession. "I've caused enough trouble," he thinks.

The procession goes by, but then, while Alptraum has his head bowed … it comes to a stop. "Alptraum," Sunala says, "I understand that you are leaving." No one else breathes a word.

"I spoke rashly, Sunala. Out of emotion and without a clear mind," Alptraum replies, head lowered. "I'm am struggling with myself. Part of me wishes to leave, the other doesn't. I need time to clear my mind and think on it. Please forgive my outbursts earlier; I should not have said anything."

Sunala just nods solemnly. She starts again, and her procession continues onward, to the throne room, leaving Alptraum alone.

Alptraum looks up, watching the little girl – Sunala, go.

When Alptraum tries to find Razaka, he is prohibited from even going down to the Infirmary, for Master Garoun is still there. Instead, Razaka meets him at one of the memorial courts. "You wished to see me, Alptraum," she says, stepping into the sunlight of the walled stone statuary "garden".

"I wanted to apologize for what happened down there," Alptraum says quietly, looking at Razaka. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's not my place to question or interfere here. I'm a guest. I am sorry for the position I put you in."

Razaka just nods solemnly. "Apology accepted. Miss Garoun knows nothing of any disturbance. The doors to Partition Four are designed to buffer sound for privacy."

"Good. I shouldn't expect people to see the same as I do. I didn't grow up here," Alptraum says, looking down. "I do not agree with what will happen, but I should take that up with someone other than her and let the gods judge her as they will. Would you be willing to tell Zana I won't be leaving just yet? I want to get some time away to try and think over things and what I should do."

"I will tell her. I am sure she will be pleased," Razaka says, with a voice devoid of any enthusiasm, one way or the other. "If that will be all, I should return to my work."

"Avralie, that's all," Alptraum replies. "Be well, Razaka."

"Be well, Alptraum bar Reisender," Yodhsunala Razaka says. And with that, she turns, with a heavy sweep of her robes, and vanishes the way she came.

"You never know if they really mean it. I guess here, they have to be that way or couldn't take it. I wish I could tell one way or another, though. And why it matters to me. I guess, because they are family – and I want to belong somewhere. We'll see what comes of later, then. At least I have time to think on it now," Alptraum thinks as he watches her leave.

Alptraum wings between the towers of Babel, underneath a spanning arch, and around a supporting column, following the green-furred Yodhgorphat, who trails loose bandages like streamers flapping in her wake. "So," she squeaks, as she slows to allow him to catch up, "what sort of things interest you? In the Streets Below, there are places that have not seen light of day for millennia!"

"That's a good question," Alptraum calls back. "How about some old shrines? Often interesting things can be found there. And mind if I ask you a weird question?"

The Yodhgorphat laughs. "Weird questions are the best kind! I just reserve the right not to answer if it so suits me." She makes a lazy spin, then dives downward. "Old shrines! There are so many!"

Alptraum chuckles a bit, glad to be out flying. It always calms his nerves. He swoops down after her, canting his wings a bit to dive under, then loop around her. "Were you born green?" Alptraum asks.

"No I was not," the Yodhgorphat says. "I was turned green when I received Gorphat's Kiss – and I survived the ordeal. It is a magical ailment – that can only be gained by Gorphat's blessing – that separates the weak from the strong!"

"I – see," Alptraum replies. He spreads his wings a bit and slows down his glide downward. "I was wondering how many usual births have occurred between the various Yodh."

"The various temples have their own way of gaining new Yodh," Phlagaea says, as she slows into a lazy glide. "The Yodhblakat steal their acolytes. Having red hair or fur is a sure mark that you're going to be taken. The Yodhbarada sometimes steal theirs as well, though they sometimes bargain for them. The Yodhinala breed theirs. The Yodhsunala – well, most are donated to them, as sacrifices, but some are chosen to serve Sunala in life rather than death. The Yodhzakaro test youths brought to them for consideration. The Yodhrephath … I honestly don't know how they get their recruits!"

Alptraum laughs. "Great, so I'm sort of a freak in that way too," he says as he looks around the terrain. "But then, I'm not really part of the priesthood anyway. At least, I don't think they consider me such."

"Ah, freaks are the lifeblood of the Yodh!" Phlagaea sing-songs, doing another lazy spin. "I was like so many others. A sick little kit abandoned. But I held on, and here I am!"

"I'm an unnatural birth, raised as a gypsy in Sylvania, of all places," Alptraum replies. "I was adopted by them. They always told me they found me, but in reality I was given to them. The tribe named me. My name actually means 'Nightmare Traveler', would you believe."

"Ah, what a lovely name!" Phlagaea says. "Mine was borrowed from some old, dead dialect. I'm not even sure what it means, though it has something to do with 'virulent outbreak that causes much death and suffering'."

"You're really strange!" Alptraum replies with a smirk. "Would you believe that Sylvania is actually nicer than here? Well, for the most part, anyway. Winters are colder there. I ended up sleeping in a snow bank a few times. I don't think I've lived in one place longer than six months. Do you know where we're going?"

"Well, let's see … what sort of old shrine would you like to see?" Phlagaea calls back.

"Argh! Good question. One to the Seven Sisters or something. I'm curious about it and what answers might be there. I still need to identify that voice," Alptraum says.

"You're hoping the shrine will speak to you? Ah, but miracles do happen! On we go!" And with that, Phlagaea does a clockwise roll, then dives downward into the darkness.

Alptraum follows along, keeping within a few wingspans of the Yodhgorphat.

Phlagaea leads Alptraum through a maze of twists and turns, sometimes calling back to him to beware some low-hanging obstacle and only giving him a split second to react to her warning … but he avoids any unseemly collisions. Once it becomes dark enough, Alptraum can clearly see that Phlagaea has more of those vials of glowing liquid, serving as a dim foxfire beacon that helps him track her movements when the clutter is too much for his echolocation to do the trick. At last, though, she alights to land on a jutting bridge, and waits for Alptraum to alight upon it as well. "Here we are," she says. "Down this far, a great many of the dwellings have been turned into vaults – and among the vaults, there are many shrines." She starts heading across the bridge to a tall archway that leads into a thick tower trunk. The dim light afforded by her vials illuminates flanking images of Eeee, facing each other with wings lifted up to frame the arch.

Alptraum alights softly onto the ground and folds his wings back. "Wow," Alptraum says, following along after Phlagaea. "I've not seen anything like this place before. We didn't have vaults back in Sylvania – not after the Necromancer Wars. Heh, it was a Necromancer that initiated my journey here."

"No vaults? Tsk. So, you just bury your dead directly into the earth, then?" Phlagaea asks. She picks one of the vials off from her waist and hands it to Alptraum. "Don't drop it, or it will make a terrible mess."

"Well, they burn them now," Alptraum admits and accepts the vial. "Too many problems with necromancers bringing them back as an army. It's a harsh land there, in many respects. I ended up having to leave my family there, to protect them. They needed a place to weather out the winter and the Sheriff there had it in for me. He didn't want 'my kind' around. So, I chose to go after a Necromancer whom stole a dream pendant and nearly got our tribe blamed for it." He holds up the vial and looks around.

"Burn them? Gorphat forgive us!" She makes a sign over her head with the vial she's holding. "Here, we take great pains to bury the dead with honors, and that which might aid them in the places beyond. All of us go to the Sea of Souls, but not all fates are the same – at least, not for a time. Those who are granted a proper burial may for a time live in the next Realm, before passing to the Sea."

Alptraum finds blistered remains of frescoes on the walls, and some evidence of fire damage here and there – and some charred bones that crunch underfoot. There is a nook with a broken piece of some sort of statue, and some more fragments of wall painting, depicting a battle of Eeee against Eeee.

"I wouldn't recommend the Sea to anyone. I was there, when the Dream ritual was still active," Alptraum says. "Sylvania is a sad land, in many ways. I feel for the people there, they were mine for a time. The fact some are hunted just because of what they were born as. The Gallee hunt the vampire Eeee there, for nothing more than being that. They're not an evil people, they just cannot digest normally. They're not monsters." He then pauses to look over the remains of the paintings and statues, trying to make out what it probably was.

As Alptraum examines the painting, he can see that one side seems to be made up of a great many Eeee warriors with pronounced fangs and red eyes, with predominantly black fur, whereas the other side presents a more varied collection of fur colors. A woman (and it's very obvious that she is one) on the side of the red-eyed, fanged warriors stands head and shoulders above the others, holding aloft a chalice overflowing with a red liquid in one hand, and an absurdly shaped spiked and twisted blade that seems designed more to be intimidating in appearance than practical in martial use.

Phlagaea just walks along, tracing the wall. She runs her fingers along a dusty area, then traces it on a crack. At last, she tucks the vial back into a fold at her side, then says, "Here, help me push this."

Alptraum tilts his head, examining the woman. "Who's this?" he asks, tapping the painting.

Phlagaea stops pushing, and stands up straight again. "Hmm?" She strides over, getting out her vial and holding it up again. "Ah. That is Diphath, mother of vampires."

Alptraum inhales sharply and pulls his hand away. "I – see. What happened in that picture?" Alptraum asks, getting to his feet and going over to help push.

Phlagaea nods and goes back, standing shoulder to shoulder with Alptraum as they push. "Ngh. Well, Diphath was – ngh – very … how shall we say – paranoid!" The stonework gives way, and the wall starts to slide back. It's pretty hard, but then it starts to get easier, as if some sort of counterweight were aiding the process.

Alptraum nghs and puts all his strength into it. "And? What happened?" he asks.

The stone finally slides forward enough that it reveals a passage to their right. "Step through here, before it slides back," Phlagaea does so, releasing the wall (which is still moving forward under its own momentum), and ducking into the dark side passage.

Alptraum does so, quickly. He holds up the vial to provide light to see where they are.

As he ducks into the side passage, he finds that it's just an alcove, and there's not all that much room to squeeze in here with Phlagaea. "Watch your wings, when it slides back!" Phlagaea warns, and Alptraum can hear that the stone is starting to slow … then come back.

Alptraum pulls his wings in tightly and hopefully out of the way of the stone. "Uh, fancy meeting you here," he says to Phlagaea as he squeezes in with her, grinning a bit goofily.

Phlagaea just grins back at Alptraum, and perhaps doesn't seem to be giving him quite as much room in the alcove as she absolutely could. Still, his wings are clear, with some room to spare, and the stone slides on past, briefly sealing them in … then continuing on, and revealing a channel cut through the stonework on the other side – a low passage that lines up when the wall starts with a loud bang, allowing them an exit from the alcove. There is a faint glow beyond.

Alptraum moves back into the passageway and holds up the vial. "So, what happened with Diphath?" he inquires again.

Phlagaea brushes her hair out of her face, then says, "Oh. Right. Well, she sought to inflict harm upon her enemies – imagined or real – before they could ever do anything to slight her. She picked the wrong fight, when she and her vampires sought to defeat Rephath."

"Ah. Ow. I guess she was defeated. What is her relation to the Seven Sisters, if any?" Alptraum asks, then reaches out to knock a strand of her hair back over her eyes. He grins.

"That depends on who tells the tale," Phlagaea says. "Some say she was the rebellious daughter of Rephath. Others … just a monster who pretended at deity."

The Yodhgorphat then shakes her head, when she realizes what Alptraum has just done. "Sacrilege!" she says, with a tone of jest. "Move along, now." She pokes at his side.

Alptraum nods at that. "I've known a few vampires. They didn't impress me as … yike!" he jumps to the side slightly and grins. "Okay, okay, I'm going!" he replies and heads down the hall.

The passage is a bit short, requiring Alptraum to duck lest he scrape his ear tips on the ceiling, but it's not a long walk before he can step out and stand up straight again. On the other side, there is a circular chamber, ringed by seven tall statues of the Sisters, and within nooks here and there, and standing before them are a myriad of statues of lesser deities. Orbs hang on the walls, with a greenish fluid like what Phlagaea carries, though most of them noticeably dimmer. Piles of miscellaneous small objects – many of them having crumbled from decay – are piled at the feet of the small shrines to each of the deities, but there is still ample room to move about.

Alptraum steps out into the room. "It's kind of like that old church where I met Nekara. That seems so long ago," Alptraum says, looking about. "It was a place that still had statues dedicated to the sisters. She scared me when she showed up."

Phlagaea laughs. "I think that all Yodhsunala are trained to scare people when they first appear." She stops before the statue of Gorphat, and bows low, and mutters some prayers.

As Alptraum looks about, he sees a smaller statue near the idol of Sunala. It looks similar in many respects, aside from the smaller statue. The statues here are painted, though most of the paint has flaked away. This one, like Sunala, is black furred, but her hair is black as well. Something about her features strikes Alptraum as familiar.

Alptraum walks over to the smaller statue of Sunala and kneels before it. He reaches out and starts tracing his fingertips over the face. "Why are you familiar to me?" he asks it, peering at the features and thinking back to those he has met, such as the little girl – the one now called Sunala.

The silvery eyes peer back blankly at Alptraum. At the base of the statue is an inscription, though it's obscured by the crumbling remains of some sort of flowered offerings placed there.

Alptraum tries to gently move the offers aside so he can see the plaque.

Phlagaea continues to move around, offering prayers to the various deities, though none so long as what she offered to Gorphat. She pays no heed as Alptraum moves the crumbling remains aside enough to read the name "Rinala" at the base of the statue.

"Who was Rinala?" Alptraum asks. "There is a statue to her – with silver eyes."

Alptraum says, "Wasn't she … Sunala bound? Or am I mis-remembering?" Alptraum then adds."

Phlagaea stops in her prayers and turns to Alptraum. "Ah. Yes, you will find some of the forbidden deities down this deep – and, yes, the creation tale is that She was created by Bael as Rinala – Life-Giver – but that when the Sisters turned on Bael and slew him, Rinala became Sunala."

"Silver eyes, like mine," Alptraum says. "Power over life… " He shakes his head.

"Ah, don't get any ideas! You are thinking strange things, I can tell!" Phlagaea shakes her head. "Look. She has black hair. You do not."

"True enough," Alptraum says. "I've seen this likeness before, somewhere. I can't place it, though." He runs his fingertips over the muzzle-line, searching for perhaps pronounced fangs carved into it.

There quite clearly are no fangs. As for where he might have seen the statue, about all he can register is that there's something about the pose, the way the statue is standing there, arms held out, as if holding something unseen, though the arms are clearly empty.

"Was she ever depicted as holding anything?" Alptraum asks, looking over at Phlagaea.

Alptraum then turns back to the statue tries to judge the arm spacing and if she could have been holding out a child.

Quite possibly. A very, very small child, of course. "Hmm, I couldn't be absolutely sure," Phlagaea says. "I just know what we find down here, and that can't be the whole of everything."

Alptraum then wonders, "A fruit, perhaps? Like the symbol carved on my 'mother's tomb?" He looks between the Rinala, then Sunala statues and asks quietly, "Are you truly my mother?" He then shakes his head and says, "Get a grip, Traum. You're talking to a rock."

"We'll have none of that," Phlagaea says, sounding stern. "Show some respect!"

Alptraum stands and shakes his head. "Sorry, I'm just confusing myself," he says. "I hate not remembering where I've seen something."

"Mmm! And I hate not remembering where I've put something! I fully sympathize," Phlagaea says. "Now then, if you're fretting over Rinala, well, don't you dare tell any Yodhsunala I've told you such a thing, but when you spend a lot of time down here, you see things that start to make you wonder about how some of the goddesses came about." She bows shortly to Sunala, saying, "Forgive me for any disrespect. I only convey to him what misconceptions some people hold!" Then, back to Alptraum, she says, "Some people still worship Rinala, as if she were her own goddess. And down here, far enough, you'll find hardly any mention of the Seven Sisters as being related. No, you'll find Sunala and Inala … or Sunala and Rinala."

"As two separate deities? That's – curious," Alptraum says, standing to stretch out his legs. "As if they were sisters? Or perhaps mother and child?"

"That I will not venture," Phlagaea says, "but once upon a time, they were venerated as two – either as two sisters, or perhaps two aspects of the same goddess."

Alptraum nods and says, "Well, I can see that. You can't really have one without the other." He then looks around the room and asks, "Is Diphath here as well?"

Phlagaea looks about, then finds a little statue near the base of Rephath. "Why, so She is! Naughty thing. I suppose we hardly leave a one out in here, do we?"

Alptraum goes over to the statue of Diphath and crouches down so he can better see it. "What is your relation to me, then? Mother of vampires, and all," he thinks.

This idol most certainly has big fangs. She has dark fur as well, but eyes that are painted red, and with liberal splashes of red around her mouth.

Alptraum taps the statue's nose, then says, "Rephath and Diphath. Sunala and Rinala, hmm."

Alptraum then stands and shrugs. "Odd," he comments.

"Oh, there's plenty that's odd. Gorphat has not so nearly a colorful history – though I recall hearing some blasphemer from Rephidim claim that once upon a time, the Ashdodites venerated Gorphat as a man. The nerve! Or was that Blakat? I forget."

"Hey, nothing wrong with being male," Alptraum says, trying to sound offended. Almost.

"Oh, nothing wrong at all, nothing wrong at all … so long as the males stay male and the females stay female. Life is confusing enough," Phlagaea says.

"No kidding," Alptraum mutters. "I just hope I figure out some of it before I get killed or have to leave Babel permanently this time. I'm not sure the Yodhsunala care one way or another if I go or remain," he says.

"Well! You could stay with the Yodhgorphat! I'm sure we could work something out." Phlagaea grins widely.

"Uh – how would the other Yodhgorphat take that? I can't imagine I'd be that welcome there!" Alptraum says.

"Well," Phlagaea says, "things aren't like they used to be. Once upon a time, the high priestesses could be as leisurely as Gorphat – but these days, there is not so much wealth from the true believers to support the temple. It has fallen upon the younger Yodhgorphat to take on tasks long left neglected – or pawned off on hired help – in order to make ends meet. Consequently … we have a lot more power than we used to – and we can get away with a lot more."

"And one of which would be inviting a possible son of one of the other Goddesses into the temple?" Alptraum asks, grinning. "Well, I'll keep it in mind. I can survive on my own in the wilds too, so that's always an option. It's not that I don't have friends on Mount Sunala, it's just. I don't know. I'm not that comfortable there."

"Comfortable? On Mount Sunala? Why am I not surprised?" Phlagaea says. "Now then, if you've finished poking about … I should probably be showing you how to get back out."

Alptraum takes one long look around the room again, pausing on the statues of Sunala and Rinala. He takes in a breath, then nods, saying, "Avralie. Let's go."