The airship makes its way through a cloudy night, across the jungles and plains and now mountains of the Savan, borne for Rephidim, away from the City of Hands.

Humble accommodations have been made for a representative of the Temple on board – Inquisitrix Esther, an underling of Arch Inquisitor Caesar Moffat. She is left alone in her chambers, with assorted maps, charts, notes and her logs, while her guards and secretary are bunked in the next chamber, in case she should need assistance.

A lamp securely bolted down provides light over the cabin's desk, since the light of the Procession coming through the porthole is far from adequate.

Esther sits hunched over a messy pile of scrolls spread across a large drawing board. She taptaptaps the tip of a pen on a bare spot on the drawing board… a spot that looks rather pockmarked after many hours of study.

"Okay, let's go over this again," Esther mutters.

Esther pores over the scrolls of the Map Room drawn by herself and Namo. Too many Savanites were killed by the traps on the way in to let all that information go to waste. There was that astronomical machine with all the planets on it. The Professor, who had come along merely for Titus' fantasy, turned out to have been quite helpful about that.

According to the diagrams and charts, it would seem that the astronomical machine had spheres that accounted for all of the planets in the solar system … but also had two additional orbs that just don't quite fit the scheme.

Ariel, the darting spirit … Morpheus, the master of dreams … Ashtoreth, the emerald queen of beauty … Abaddon, the red orb named after an ancient deity of war and fire … Fortunatis – the supposedly random wanderer of the sky who now may be tracked by means of this device … Arcadia, the multicolored world … Logos, the Keeper of Knowledge … Behemoth, the great rocky giant… and then two that would seem to be placed somewhere beyond.

If this device could be further studied, it could revolutionize the field of astronomy.

Then there were the crystal hands. The grooves in the dais there appeared to mate up with them closely, suggesting that they were connected to the whole device. There was a map of Sinai, and there was a model of the planets. Where is the connection?

In fact, it seemed rather suspicious that she wasn't permitted to examine the crystal hands too closely. According to the whims of Lord Titus, they were briskly packed up before she could even make a study. The time she'd spent among the slaves helped her to learn quite a bit of their sign-language – might the crystal hands, paired off properly and translated, provide yet more clues?

Esther taptaptaps the pen, and the tip breaks. "Drat!" She puts down the useless quill and digs in her pack, coming up with a caliper.

Esther reaches for the lamp… then withdraws her hand, taking only the caliper, and feeling the dagger strapped to her belt. ( Lord Titus be damned. I'm going to check out those hands. )

Outside, a rumble of thunder punctuates Esther's determined thought. It echoes again by the time she reaches the ship's hold, her faithful aide Namo holding a lantern for her so she doesn't have to fumble about in the darkness. Fortunately, she didn't run into a soul on the way to question her about her business.

A pry bar makes short order of the crate that holds the collection of crystal hands. Or … that is … the crate that SHOULD hold them. Instead, the crate is filled with heavy paper-wrapped packages.

Esther peers into the crate, somewhat dumbfounded. "What in the world is this?"

Namo sniffs at the air. There's a scent that escapes as the box is opened, and which Esther can catch just as well.

"Gunpowder!" Esther gasps. "By the Star! But why… ?"

The sound of boots can be heard on the steps leading down into the hold. "Inquisitrix?" comes a loud lupine whisper belonging to Remuel.

Namo squints. He's thinking VERY hard. He's not coming up with anything. "Maybe it's supposed to be used to blow something up, huh, Inquisitrix?"

Esther turns around and goes toward Remuel. "Yes, what is it?"

Remuel steps on in, then says, "We've got a problem. I found the captain. He's dead. We found some more bodies. Garrel is searching some more. I expect we're going to find more of the same."

Esther's eyes go wide. She turns slowly around to survey the cargo hold. One big crate holding tons of gunpowder. A collection of smaller crates around it, holding metal tools and stone artifacts. "Oh no," she breathes. "They're going to blow up the ship! Remuel… there must be a saboteur!" Her voice goes to a shout. "We must find him!"

Remuel nods and dashes out, his sword already drawn.

"Namo! You're with me! Maybe we can get this crate off the ship before it's detonated!" Esther draws her dagger.

Namo sticks out his tongue, looking a bit woozy. "Ugh. I'm still sick. Wish we didn't have to go saving the ship while I feel like … uh … Yes, Inquisitrix!" He moves forward and hefts on the crate, lifting it with considerable exertion.

Esther searches for the cargo door. She dashes across toward the door, looking for the door latches.

A lever on the wall is rigged to the release latches for a loading platform in the center of this cargo hold. It's generally NOT meant to be opened while the airship is at an altitude like this … but then, neither is it meant that the hold be packed with explosives and shrapnel.

A shadow pulls itself from the others within the hold, and a glint of light reflects off of a bared chitin dagger as it swings toward the Inquisitrix.

Namo barks, "I smell fox!" as he swings the crate around in his arms.

Esther cries out! She dodges quickly to one side, slashing wildly at a blur of fox fur.

Between the swinging crate and Esther's slashing blade … the fox's delivery leaves a little to be desired. "AUGH!" He stumbles, Esther's dagger having torn at his clothes, and the crate having whacked him in the head.

Esther dives onto the fallen fox, trying to pin him with her knees and hold him at bay.

The fox hasn't enough time to recover before he's knocked down again, his muzzle slamming against the wooden floor, an angry lupine on his back. Namo, meanwhile, still holding the bomb, looks at a loss as to just what to do with it, or what to do about the fox.

More running footsteps can be heard on the deck above, and then coming down the steps. "Inquisitrix!" Garrel and Remuel both shout as they come into the cargo hold and take in the scene.

Esther wrestles with the fox. She looks for the hand holding the blade, and icepicks her own dagger down toward it!

The fox lets out a shriek as his hand is impaled by the dagger. His grip on his weapon is effectively negated, and Remuel moves in and scoops up the weapon, just in case.

The vulpine is dressed in fairly bulky, dark garb, with a heavy cloak. Esther can feel that he has some sort of backpack worn underneath the cloak, filled to capacity.

Esther, with some effort, pries her dagger up and out of flesh and deck, and slowly gets up as Garrel and Remuel draw nearer. "Garrel! Remuel! Hold this wretch!"

Garrel nods and heavily pins the fox to the floor. It shouldn't be too surprising if he fractured one of the vulpine's bones in the process. The fox shrieks, giving further credence to the notion.

"It's too late!" cries out the fox. "There's no time! We'll all be dead!" he shrieks, as if it were a hope he were now clinging to in the face of the likely alternatives offered by the wrath of the Inquisition.

Esther stands up, panting heavily, and wipes her dagger off against her cloak before sheathing it. Then she puts her face into the vulpine's face. "Speak, you! How do we disarm the bomb?"

Remuel looks at the open crate held by Namo, and at the fox. "Bomb?" He looks to Esther. "Inquisitrix. We found that all of the parasails have been removed."

The fox laughs. "Just pull all the packets of powder out of the box, and throw the charge overboard! But a lot of good that will do you! You'll never get all the rest. NEVER!"

Esther turns to Remuel. "Huh?" Then she glances at the fox, noting the straps around his shoulders. "Strip him, Remuel!"

Remuel rips off the cloak … revealing a somewhat weather-beaten but still sturdy (and quite possibly functional) parasail strapped to the fox's back. Apparently he wasn't necessarily PLANNING on dying along with the passengers of this ship.

"NOOOO!" The fox struggles vainly.

"Take that off him!" Esther barks. She grits her teeth into a horrifying grin as she stares the fox in the eyes. "We wouldn't want YOU to miss out on the FUN!"

Esther's voice crescendos into a shriek. "Now you will tell me WHO SENT YOU!"

The fox tries to laugh, though it is so high-pitched it comes out a near-shriek. "TEN!" he cries out.

Namo says, "Uhm … Inquisitrix? Is it all right if I drop this somewhere?"

"This is a bomb, right? And I'm carrying it. This can't be good, huh?" Namo says.

Esther says, "Yes, Namo, whatever, drop it. Carefully!"

Namo nods and tromps out of the cargo hold, heading for the deck with the lethal package.

Esther turns back to the fox. "Ten?" She hauls off and punches him in the gut. "WHO SENT YOU!"

The fox coughs, spitting out, "NINE!"

Esther suddenly realizes what the fox is doing. She shivers with horror and rage. "Up on the deck with him," she gulps, surprisingly quiet.

"EIGHT!" the fox almost sings. There's a strange glaze falling over his eyes.

Remuel and Garrel nod in unison, and drag the fox up to the deck.

"SIX!" the fox screams from somewhere up on deck – Either Esther actually hears it, or it's just something she imagines as she finds her way back to her cabin.

Esther scoops all the notes and scrolls off her desk and stuffs them hastily into her pack, where all her tools and gear are already stowed. She swings the pack onto her back and trots back out onto the deck.

"FOUR!" the fox shrieks. Five must have been lost in that last bout of thunderclaps.

Remuel looks to Esther worriedly. "There's no way we can search the whole ship. Garrel found some more boxes … but there must be a dozen, at least!"

Esther motions to Garrel and Remuel. "Let's see if he can finish his count." She grabs the fanatical fox by the lapels and smiles sweetly at him… then shoves him at the edge of the deck.

The fox shrieks, breaking out of his haze … and filling the air with a less than pleasant odor.

"AIEEEeeeeeeeee!" The fox plummets over the edge, disappearing in the haze caused by the falling rain over the foothills that slowly rise into the mountains of Kilmanjar.

Namo holds up the parasail confiscated from the fox. "I guess, boss … there's only one thing left to do, huh?"

Esther whirls around. "Namo! Come here! You've got to take my notes and get them to… umm… "

Remuel says, "Inquisitrix … He didn't just count numbers. He was hardly coherent … but you were supposed to die."

Esther says, "What did he say?"

Garrel glowers. "That pathetic worm."

Remuel says, "He said that the Inquisitrix was going to die. You know too much."

"… and whatever it is you know that warrants us dying … I haven't the slightest notion … and we really don't have time for a primer. In fact … " He blinks. "OH CHAOS! Are we down to ONE?!?"

Esther pauses for a second that feels like a year. She then grabs the parasail from Namo's hands and pulls it on.

Remuel draws his sword – a chitin instrument that has some particularly nasty edges on it. "Here, Inquisitrix. I won't be needing it anymore." He hands it to Esther.

Namo takes a moment, but it seems the situation is dawning on him. "G … Goodbye, Inquisitrix. I'll … I'll see you Beyond?" He wags his tail slowly.

There are tears in Esther's eyes as she looks at her faithful servants. "I… I… " Then she remembers something she learned a long, long time ago as she takes Remuel's sword. She makes the sign of the Star and Anchor over them, saying, "Walk proudly in the Procession, faithful friends. I shall see you there soon… and I will avenge you."

The Jupani clap their fists over their chests. "Remember us, Inquisitrix," Remuel says in a low voice. "And let justice prevail."

The ship shakes and rocks as an explosion rips through the air, and a billow of flame and smoke erupts from the far edge of the deck. There's not a moment before a smaller explosion erupts in another corner.

Esther reluctantly turns toward the open air… and then breaks into a run! She leaps headlong off the ship!

The world spins and twists, a nightmare of thunder, lightning, winds, jagged peaks, and plumes of raging fire. The world jolts as the parasail comes open, and the moment in which Esther triggered it is lost to memory.

Burnt fragments of the Wayfarer's Song scatter to the winds, and the ground continues to rise quickly … too quickly. A jolt comes as the first branches break under the weight of the falling Jupani … then more … then … blackness.

Light slowly dawns, and with it a rush of pain. Fuzzy images slowly focus into sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees up on this remote mountain slope.

It takes time to get up, to check for broken bones (there are none), to extract oneself from the parasail … to stagger down to the smoldering wreckage of the airship and examine its remains that are scattered across the treacherous incline of this mountain face.

The chitin blade – Remuel's sword – is still intact, and quite sharp. It may not be Esther's blade of choice, but in the thick of this forest-come-jungle, it has its uses – as a machete, if nothing else.

Esther hacks through the underbrush toward the flaming wreckage. There is not much left; the saboteur was apparently very thorough. There are some bones and other fleshy remains – those, she tries hard not to look at, or to smell. But there are also a few odds and ends to be had. A few ration packs, some cloth from the sail that could be used to build a tent, and the makings of some torches.

Esther sits down and re-packs her pack. Some of her equipment she has to leave behind, such as all the heavy blank scrolls, and some of the archaeological tools. She moves mechanically, still in shock, in the general direction of the Xenean River.

Below the mountain vista made possible by the trees felled by the airship's destruction can be found a tributary to the mighty Xenean River … and that in turn provides the way to follow to distant Safar. But a long journey it is, and the lone Jupani has more burdens than can be seen to take with her, and no one to help lighten the load.

Not all of the Savan is towering jungle or dry flatlands. The region of Kilmanjar is dominated by a range of mountains, lush forests, and more than a fair number of cascading waterfalls. Under other circumstances, it might make an enjoyable place to see. The treacherous nature of the slopes and the dangerous winds whipping across the peaks serve to keep this area remote and relatively untouched by civilization.

The wildlife serve toward this end as well. More than once, the Jupani's rest is disturbed by the calls of some forest predator. Some even make an appearance … but most often slink away without putting up a fight. And her dreams are also disturbed by visions and images of her own creation. No real rest can truly be found.

With the decrease in altitude, the temperature rises as well. The Inquisitrix finds herself no longer having to bundle up quite so much against the cold – except in the chill of night. The rations do not last long. Although not trained in the ways of the wild, and lacking instinct, somehow she manages to scrape by. She happens upon a nest of eggs. She finds a Bromthen piglet snared in a thicket. Mere luck?

At last, following the raging Xenean far enough, the Jupani happens upon a riverboat bearing some poodle noble in a pith helmet and his entourage of servants. The great poodle hunter, out to conquer the wilds of the Savan.

And, of course, great poodle hunters would not pass up the chance to rescue a fair Jupani maiden (albeit a rather rough-looking one upon closer inspection) from the dangers of the wild … and convey her back to Safar after bagging a couple more beasts.

Safar. To those who live sheltered lives in Rephidim, the name speaks of the exotic, the adventurous, the far-flung. (To those who have gone there, it speaks of the expensive, and the downright filthy.)

For those wealthy nobles who come here to go adventuring, there are the finest hotels and restaurants and supply shops to be found anywhere on Sinai. And, of course, there's not a bargain to be found except the few who already have a stake in this small city. Outside of this pristine ring of businesses catering to the wealthy of Rephidim and certain powers on the surface, there is filth and something which goes beyond just describing as "poverty".

Much wealth passes through Safar, and many hope to get just a portion of it, but it does not stay here. But then, its wealth comes by what passes through it: Nobles looking for adventure … slaves being shipped in from various parts of the Savan and then off to all corners of Sinai … Bromthen ivory …

No one really pays much attention to the haggard-looking Jupani, bereft of her adornments which would have some time ago identified her as not merely a servant of the Temple of Rephidim, but an Inquisitrix and someone to be feared.

Esther finds her way to the airship port. She looks a lot more like one of the slavers, criminals, and guides-gone-native that hang around looking for work, than like an Inquisitrix. For her own safety, she packed her distinctive clothing away to avoid identification. She remembers the haunting words of Remuel… 'You know too much.'

At least among the things to be salvaged from the wreckage of the Wayfarer's Song … was a collection of shekels. After all, the dead will not need them in the Procession. They prove to be barely enough to secure passage on a cargo vessel with even more modest accommodations than those offered by Esther's previous mode of passage.

Does the Kavi give Esther a strange look as he fills out her papers? Is that furtive glance from a cloaked figure of indeterminate species (a fox?) someone that Esther saw before a few blocks down? Eyes, seen and unseen, seem to bore through the Jupani … testing her … trying her … watching every move.

Esther settles back on her straw-filled cot and tries to sort out the events of the past two months in her mind. She is distracted by sounds of her fellow 'passengers' – Savanite slaves, freshly captured, shuffling about inside the cargo hold, occasionally being whipped or beaten by their masters. 'You know too much.' 'There's only one thing left to do, huh?' 'I will avenge you.' 'And let justice prevail.' Sleep is hard, and light. But a few days hence she will return home to Rephidim – if indeed that or any place can now be called home – to solve the mystery and punish those responsible.