The winter is still a palpable shadow over the northern part of the Naga Empire, making few the Nagas who will venture out while there is still frost on the grass; it is mostly Savanites who are out early to rake the paths back into useful flatness, tend to the gardens, repair damaged structures and replace scorched decorations, and carry sacks of grain and joints of meat to the kitchens of the various dormitories for cooking. Savanites may no longer be automatically slave by law and custom, but here at least, little seems to have changed as a direct result of that proclamation.

Bassai has found a break in his busy schedule, not that he has anything against slithering around trying to set people straight on the extent of the law, and the accompanying arguments, and headaches. Of course, these are just slightly more pleasant than the slithering around required to make sure he's clear on the interpretation of the law, which also tends to involve frustrating arguments with lawyers who have vested interests. Compared to these daily joys, the demands for speeches and public appearances seem like a holiday. Of course, one can't enjoy oneself all the time, so the Minister of Savanite Affairs has wrenched himself away from his work to pursue something different.

Part of his actual work involves translating his journal notes into something more accessible. Reviewing his early efforts brought back some loose ends that were never adequately tied off. Ibis, the Champion of Roses, Rephidim Temple, an Exile and some rebel slaves were all connected with the City of Hands, in a rather twisted fashion. The one person who might have been able to shed some light on this was the mind mage Isstan, who was assaulted before Bassai had a chance to meet him, and returned to the Nagai Empire for best treatment available. It occurred to the archeologist, that he knew one of the best healers rather well, and this has brought him to her office.

Though of recent months Sephira has been spending most of her time in the Palace with Bassai, first making sure that his restoration to health is a complete success, then serving as a companion when his long-time slave Tekki disappeared without explanation, the pressure of mounting heaps of letters and projects that must be addressed finally called her back to the Institute some time ago. Thus she is pleased to see Bassai as she looks up from her desk. Putting down a rather lengthy letter (a request for commentary on the life-cycle of the common Eep) she slithers across the office to give Bassai a hug. "Dear Minister! I thought I would not see you until I managed again to win time away from these incessant bureaucrats."

"Oh Sephira, I was faced with a pile of appointments so high I wouldn't have come out from under it for several days, but it was simply intolerable. You kept constantly sliding into my thoughts, and I felt it would be much better to hold you in my arms than my memory." Bassai hisses quietly to her during the embrace. Savouring the moment for as long as it lasts, then reluctantly releasing her. "I hope your work has not been as stressful as mine."

Sephira flickers her tongue, then licks Bassai's cheek, her eyelids fluttering white-speckled green; a slightly different blend from the one she affected in the palace, this one makes her look more distinguished. "Flatterer. But I love every word you hiss so," she says with a quick smile of her lip-corners. "No, it has been more dull, really. Application forms for grants, letters from colleagues, a list of curriculum vitae to review… I begin teaching in a few weeks, and the students have been lining up outside my office to persuade me to accept them into my classes. I am surprised that you did not have to overcome a few to get in." She winks.

Bassai flicks his tongue across the delicate scales of her snout, replying, "I wish I had all the words you deserve, but they would fill more volumes than the legal archive. I am sure however, that if I crushed any of your students in my haste to get here, that they were insignificant ones, not worthy of your attention." He smiles, as he brushes his fingers against the back of hand. "I did have one trivial reason to see you also, somewhat official, but more in the area of curiousity at this moment."

Sephira laughs, flicking her tailtip around Bassai's in a brief twining. "True, my dearest, it is the unwary who have not the sense to make way for their better. Unless of course, they sought to curry favor by throwing themselves beneath your tread?"

The life-mage continues, "And of course, if there's anything I can answer for you, my Bassai… ?" She looks intrigued at Bassai's apparent interest in things mystical.

"I hope any honour I imparted will keep them warm in the frost until someone uncovers them," Bassai hisses with a smile, letting one of his coils rest lightly against the mage's side. "As to the question, I believe I told you some of my efforts in Rephidim before I left on my expedition. Someone who could possibly answer many more archeological questions for me, was the Mind Mage Isstan. Unfortunately I heard he had returned here for expert medical attention, I was wondering how that had fared."

"Ah – Isstan," Sephira says with sorrow. "Yes, I know of him. But I fear you are many months too late to speak with him, dearest Bassai. He succumbed to his illness on the way here, and was buried with full honors due a mage of the Institute." She shakes her head sadly.

"Indeed!" The Ringneck Naga flicks out his tongue with some surprise. "I was not aware he was so ill. He was a mage deserving the highest esteem, and I can imagine how much of a loss it must have been for the Institute. I had no idea at all."

Sephira says with some venom, "Apparently the Temple of Rephidim did not share your opinion, dear Minister. They proclaimed their investigation of his death inconclusive. Inconclusive! It was plain that the poor snake was in torment that could only have arisen through magical tampering. And who could have done it, but those Exiles who last saw him?" She shakes her head, and then takes the archaeologist's hands. "But come, Bassai. Would you like to pay respect to his remains? His soul has gone on to the Great Serpent, but still, what there is left of him, almost certainly resides in our Hall of Bodies Shed as Skins."

"Yes, it is the least I could do. The Temple has committed an incredible crime by failing to bring those to justice, but one that does not surprise me. Did you know they ordered the destruction of the City of Hands? I can't imagine what Nagai glories must have been present there to prompt such vile action. That was precisely what I wished to ask Isstan about." The archeologist hisses in frustration at the double loss, then slithers alongside Sephira, letting her lead him to the Hall.

Sephira slithers alongside Bassai, arm in arm, stroking his hand gently. "The destruction of a Nagai city? What arrogance," she breathes softly. "The loss to our cultural heritage… " She shakes her head as they descend the sandy path and turn off to another of the marbled buildings, this one somehow shadowy even as the morning grows lighter. More students filter between the buildings, some yawning.

Bassai follows alongside Sephira, the occasional bump of her arm or the brush of her scales warming him more than the rising sun. He converses as they progress along. "Yes, I can only guess what treasures and proof of our historic superiority would prompt such actions to suppress it. The political machinations of Rephidim Temple must never be underestimated." The Minister shakes his head.

Impassioned, Sephira says, "You should demand an apology, Bassai. No, better – reparations!" The walk takes a fair while, the Hall of Bodies Shed as Skins lying a fair distance from the other 'permanent' buildings. Few people like to be reminded of their mortalities, no matter how pleasant the afterlife.

"What evidence I have managed to garner is somewhat inconclusive. They have successfully placed the responsibility on a rebel slave; One rumoured to be a witch even, and dismissed the destruction as an accident. I am sure there would be no reparations forthcoming." The Archeologist hisses, then looks up at the building they are approaching. "Is this it?"

Sephira snorts. "Accident." She nods to Bassai as they stop before the building, the front doorway sculpted to resemble the fangs of a giant serpent into whose mouth they pass. "This is the Hall of Bodies Shed as Skins. Here is where the remains of our mages lie, those who distinguished themselves in service to the Empire. Though their souls have passed on, what remains of them is itself still powerful in some ways, or at least, so we believe, dear Bassai." The shadows pass over Sephira's face. "It seems to me sometimes that I feel the remains hunger for soulstuff, like a black pit that could never be filled, no matter how much magic I gave them… "

The Hall of Shed Bodies is… dark. The atmosphere is clammy, tasting of dust and rot. Slow, chill drafts wriggle this way and that in the dank air, flowing over those inside like clammy fingers, then slipping away. Though sconces hang from pillars at regular intervals, in many places it is difficult to see more than fifteen or twenty feet down the catacombs, and yet the personelle move about efficiently, never aimlessly. The few morticians and even fewer witch-doctors that go about their business here, move around in complete silence, save for the dragging of scutes across stone. Marked urns line the edges of the walls, spaced irregularly with sarcophagi, or large indentations in the walls for particularly large 'sheddings'.

"I cannot explain what you feel, dearest Sephira, I don't understand these things. Remember to take what pleasures we can in life, before we pass on and hunger for the memories." He strokes her arm gently, trying to pass along some fortitude as they slither into the dark hall. The air currents, and atmosphere is disconcerting. He flicks his tongue out once, then refrains from doing so again.

Sephira seems to take comfort from Bassai's proximity as they wind down a red carpet and approach a large and heavy desk made of some sort of totally black stone, upon which numerous tomes and scrolls have been spread, intricately carved paperweights serving to mark places. Upon the desk as well is a small garter, though larger than most of the species at five feet in length, who gesticulates as he speaks with a six-armed Rokuga.

Bassai slithers towards the desk, gently stroking Sephira's linked arm in a comforting manner meant to remind her of his presence, and concern. The Ringneck waits patiently as the Garter and Rokuga converse. He takes the time to examine a few of the paperweights.

The paperweights are shaped like varying-pointed stars, most having some obvious larger arrow radiating from their centers to allow specific entries to be highlighted. They are carved from differently colored stones, some a mixed blue with streaks of green, others a violent shattering of red with orange. Such paperweights have been used through antiquity in mapmaker's offices and other places where many papers and vellums are likely to be spread out for perusal, and must be kept from snapping back into tight rolls.

"… We were forced to conduct the last rites after the remains were entombed," murmurs the Rokuga. He's somewhat easier to see than most in the dim light the crypts afford. He is dressed in a garment of spotless white, sort of a like a long, flowing fold of cloth going over his back, shoulders, and front, and tied below the arms. Emblazoned on the back and front is the 'spirit', the symbol of necromantic magics. The rest of the Naga is white as well, but a less 'pure' shade. More like that of bleached bone. He continues. "The soul of the departed will not manage the 'Joyous Wiggle' so well when accorded such disrespect."

The small garter murmurs, "An appalling thought, Qing. But I've often wondered, is it theoretically possible to conduct research into the length and duration of the Joyous Wiggle?" He raises an eye-ridge archly. "Perhaps, for instance, if we dug the fellow up and then performed last rites again, would he do the Joyous Wiggle again?" This seems to be a subject of long debate between them.

"Your conversation reminds me of my college days, and I much as I would like to slip into it, I don't feel limber enough for a religious debate. As well, you would seem to be forewarned on the subject." Bassai interrupts, with a pleasant hiss. "We wish to pay our respects to the remains of the Mage Isstan, without excessive wandering. Could one of you direct us?"

"I rather doubt it, records-keeper. Once the Joyous Wriggle is complete, the Great Serpent bestows the gift of oblivion, and it simply wouldn't do to wrench… " The six-armed serpent stops, his back stiffening slightly. He turns in place to look at the two newcomers. A pair of tinted-black spectacles perches on his nose, the dim light causing them to look more like empty eyesockets. "Mmm. You are the Minister of Savanites, are you not? And, as always, it's a pleasure to see you… Sephira." The Rokuga's words are slow and deliberate, like a library murmur. "Yes, I will guide you through the Hall."

Sephira draws herself up a little more. "Indeed, Qing. The time seems to fly between our meetings." The look in her eyes doesn't suggest that it flies because she can hardly wait for them. Her arm tightens around Bassai's.

The little garter bows to Bassai. "Minister! An unexpected honor. Whose remains did you wish to visit, sir?"

"Yes, that is my current portfolio." Bassai replies to Qing, moving a little closer to Sephira, holding her arm protectively against his side. "We wished to see Isstan, the late Mage of the Mind Sphere."

The Ringneck Naga inclines his head as a way of returning the garter's bow.

The garter pauses, and then looks a little frantic at the strewn papers. "Just a minute, sir. I'll see if I can locate his tomb in the maps for you, and then – "

Qing clasps his robe to his chest before dipping his head toward Bassai in acknowledgment. Taking a moment to readjust his spectacles, the Rokuga murmurs, "Quite all right, Keeper. I've just been there. I can take our… guests to the proper place."

"Thank you for your assistance, we shall go with Qing." Bassai tells the garter, turning and waiting for Sephira to accompany him. He pets her arm a few times, giving it a squeeze.

The records-keeper says, "Well, that's very generous of you, Mage Qing." He bows to the group. "I'll just note your time of arrival on this log, sir." He takes out a quill and starts writing, glancing to a large mechanical clock to be sure of the exact moment.

As they walk into the quiet depths of the Hall, attendants occasionally passing by without so much as a word spoken between each other, Sephira murmurs, "I'm sure that Qing can tell you all sorts of things about dear departed Isstan, Bassai. He's very knowledgeable about causes of death, isn't he?" She looks across the minister's chest at the pale spirit mage.

"I've studied my fair share," hisses the ivory reptile as he slides along, a whitish blob a few feet ahead in the darkness. "Isstan's case demanded more attention than the norm, owing to such unusual circumstances, both forensic and diplomatic. What would you speak of?"

"I believe I can guess at the diplomatic circumstances that caused his death, thought I would of course be interested in anything particularly unusual." Bassai hisses, following the ivory Rukoga along the quiet stone. "What concerned me most though, are the forensics. What was required of you?"

Sephira says quite tartly, "He opened poor Isstan's head up like a broiled skedat!"

Bassai's eyeridges raise, "I see… "

Qing folds one pair of arms behind his back. The middle pair crosses his chest, and one of the upper hands rubs the mage's chin. "In situations requiring the attentions of an Imperial witch-doctor, enough evidence to determine cause of death must be gathered for the subject's records, should they be required for legal purposes, or investigation." He waves the other hand dismissively. "Yes, Sephira… you can't imagine my disappointment to find that his brain was reduced to mush. Obviously nothing natural or mundanely possible at work."

"You could have shown a little more style about it," Sephira criticizes.

"What could have caused such a thing? How could he have survived for any length of time in that condition?" Bassai asks with some shock, thinking especially about some of the risks he had faced on the expedition.

The Rokuga's voice doesn't rise above his strange, throaty whisper. "Perhaps if the body were delivered to me sooner, time would not have been so destructive to the evidence. As the subject was, however, I couldn't discern much. The brain's consistence was uneven, suggesting a gradual, but irreversible breakdown. Such that not even life magic could sustain it, I imagine… "

"That is not comforting news. What were you able to discern with your rituals?" The Ringneck Naga asks, raising his voice to compensate for the quietness of the Rokuga's words.

The walls have five-foot high doors installed upon each section of corridor, mounted a foot off the ground. These presumably, when opened, would access small niches within which would be coiled the mortal remains of the mages of the Institute's glorious past. Each door bears a small brass plaque, the metal a token of the college's esteem, which identifies its occupant.

"Not much, I'm afraid," murmurs the spirit mage. He passes a few doors, then looks up and taps one of the plaques with a fingertip. "A seance revealed little more than that the subject suffered extreme pain, and mental anguish. Otherwise, the manner of death was too traumatic for the spirit to remember much of anything. Except for the brain, there were no substantial injuries, internal or external, that could account for the death, and no poisons were detected in his system."

As Qing speaks, they travel down one last ramp and to the left; the doors are noticeably smaller in this section, perhaps reflecting a consciousness that the Hall cannot be expanded indefinitely… Or perhaps an estimation of the actual value Isstan played to the Institute, despite their lofty words. But where Isstan's crypt should stand, door shut upon a legacy of mortal remains, the heavy stone door now hangs open, and attendants are handling the coiled snake body within!

"What is this?" Bassai asks loudly, as much to Qing as the attendants, "Is this the usual way remains are honoured?"

There are three attendants, and a larger cobra dressed in Imperial guard uniform. It is this person who salutes to the Minister of Savanite Affairs; the others stop once they have laid the slab down, and bow down low.

The white Rokuga surveys the activity in the crypt. His demeanor is steady, but the muscles around his neck and jaw tighten. "If it is, I certainly wasn't consulted." His soft voice has tightened into a strained hiss. He regards the cobra. "You there. I am Witch-Doctor Mortician Zhu Ye Qing, of the Higher Institute of Sorcery and the Supernatural. I demand to know why you disturb the final resting place of the Mage Isstan."

The Minister returns a short bow to the three attendants, then focuses his attention on the Imperial Guard. He gives a concerned sideways glance at Sephira then hisses, "I wish to know that answer as well."

"Minister, Witch-Doctor, begging your pardon but we're beginning the preparation of the body for a rite requested by the Temple of Rephidim," the cobra says. He holds up an order with an impressive-looking wax seal.

The body glistens as if it had been covered in some kind of protective salve.

"Let me see the order. Imperial interests have not been well served by the Temple recently; I wish to inspect that for any legal considerations they may have overlooked." Bassai hisses, slithering forward and holding out his hand. "I'm sure you can indulge me."

"Preposterous," snorts Qing at the guard, crossing all six arms across his chest. He watches Bassai for a reaction while he continues, "The Temple has no business or right to exhume our dead and parade their husks back and forth. Besides, I embalmed Isstan very recently. The fluids have not had enough time to seep into the bones in particular."

The cobra hands the orders to the minister. "They're countersigned by the Minister for External Affairs, sir. I dislike the defiling of our dead as much as you do, but under the circumstances, I'm just following orders."

"I understand your plight, and I dislike how political machinations take precedence over the rights of the deceased." Bassai hisses gravely, rolling open the documents and reviewing them.

The orders appear to concern the desire to further the investigation of the death of Mage Isstan, and in particular, to ascertain the true cause of his weakened condition by recreating the spell that he was last responsible for. This, the order implies though does not outright say, will be done by bringing together as many of the participants in the original spell as can be found, as well as members of both the spirit sphere and the mind sphere. The request originates from Arch-Inquisitor Maleficos.

The orders are further signed by Minister Delawai, for External Affairs, and the seal looks valid.

Qing peers over the tops of his glasses with lidless crimson eyes. "Minister? Is this true?"

The attendants look concerned. "Mage Qing," one suggests. "Perhaps it would help if you cast some kind of spell to… " The small grass snake gestures toward the body. "Preserve the bones, or something?"

Sephira looks over Bassai's shoulder, reading the order as well.

"It would seem they are not content to just parade the dead around Qing, they wish to have it re-enact the final sufferings of Isstan. Presumably in some attempt to ascertain the cause of his death." The Minister points partway down the page, "See here, they plan on bringing as many suspects to the scene. As for its legality, it is signed, and quite tight and specific. There seem to be no loopholes."

The life-mage hisses. "They expect to put on a stage-play and then claim that solves the death of Mage Isstan?" She looks scornful.

Bassai looks sadly at Sephira, "It seems there is no bottom to their well of incompetence, that appears to be exactly what they propose to do."

The spirit mage adjusts his spectacles with his top set of arms, and flicks his tongue. "That's what the embalming fluid accomplishes, attendant. Isstan, in whatever capacity he exists in now, is entitled to his years of honour within the Halls until… " Qing stops abruptly, his teeth clicking together. "They plan to… what? That's disgusting. Barbarous."

Sephira murmurs, glancing over to Qing, "Just your sort of thing, isn't it, Witch-Doctor? Perhaps you should apply to help in the ceremony."

"Fortunately… " The Minister hisses, looking at the witch-doctor, then back to the Life-Mage. "The participants are not named. Very likely you could apply Qing, and we could even insist to be present and ensure it is not the travesty they intend."

Qing's hands set themselves on where his hips would be, if he were a biped, except for the top pair, which the frustrated mage can't seem to find anything to do with. He gives Sephira a look that's difficult to read. "Such an indignity is… is… bah. Yes, I see no choice in the matter. If Isstan is to do so much a twitch on his way down the Great Serpent's gullet to acknowledge his deeds, I must see to the comfort of his soul."

"To have your mortal remains toyed with by your lessers… " spits the spirit mage. "Unthinkable."

Bassai hands the scroll back to the Imperial cobra, "You were correct about these orders. I suggest you fulfill them with as much respect as possible, considering their intent. It is unfortunate that the Temple of Rephidim has found only ways to embarrass the Nagai Empire with Isstan's death, instead of those responsible. It's incomprehensible how they could have botched such a simple investigation."

Sephira rolls her eyes, but nods. "We have had our disagreements in the past, Qing, but I suspect we can agree that we must insure Isstan's proper treatment in this matter."

The cobra nods and bows to Bassai. "It is regrettable that they do not simply yield the culprit over to our hands for questioning. I am certain we would have results quickly enough."

"I am very certain we would." Bassai returns the bow, his words trailing off into a quiet hiss.

The pale Rokuga rubs his chin. "Yes, for once I agree, Sephira. I am curious about one thing, though." He regards Sephira and Bassai together. "The life magess and I have crossed paths before, when she fai-… when some patients succumbed to the inevitable. I can see her interest here. But respected Minister… were you a friend of the departed?"

Sephira glares at Qing's verbal slip.

Bassai's eyeridges crease with displeasure at the Rokuga's choice of words. He answers in an even tone. "No, I was not. Mind Mage Isstan was cited to me by several sources as having vital information about some curious matters. I had left on my expedition before hearing of his death. I only knew that he had been ill, and returned here. I had come to ask Sephira about his condition, and discovering it, felt I had to pay my respects."

The attendants pick up the slab again, and load it onto a hearse, an enclosed wagon of some dark veneered wood; quite suitable for the tasteful transportation of the dead. The cobra says, "Sirs, if you're interested in following the progress of this case, the body will be transported to the Maizen Spirit Lab, in room five. It will undoubtedly remain there until… " His voice shows some distaste. "The completion of the ceremony, after which Mage Isstan's body can be returned for proper re-interring."

"Thank you Officer, that information is quite useful. I appreciate your concern and will pass on a commendation to your superiors." The Minister hisses at the cobra.

"Ah… " murmurs Qing thoughtfully. He gazes at the corpse on the slab while he speaks. "They seldom see fit to tell us things here, beyond what we need to know to conduct investigation. And even then… tsk. This all bodes ill. Not good omens, no… "

The cobra salutes.

Sephira holds out a hand to the attendants. "A moment, please. Perhaps we can pay our respects to Isstan before he is so unceremoniously hustled off like a prop for a play?"

The cobra glances toward the Minister and the other mage present, then nods.

Bassai nods in agreement with Sephira, then slithers forward. His head held low in contemplation of the body that was Isstan. Reaching up, the Ringneck Naga selects one of the scales from his throat. It is a brilliant yellow-orange, matching his scutes, and contrasting the rest of his deep green colouration. He pulls it free, and places it on Isstan's body. Moving back he quietly hisses, "I am with you to oblivion."

Sephira follows suit, murmuring, "To oblivion," as she casts one of her light green scales onto the body.

The spirit mage watches quietly, and raises his hands, clasping the lowest pair together. He murmurs, "Isstan, beyond suffering, know that you are recognized in the here and now, and seek your reward of painless nonexistence in the hereafter. With the gift of blessed oblivion, live and yet not live in the purest form, that of your legacy."

With his blessing aside, Qing takes a plate from a small stone shelf, littered with fist-sized, red-tinged rolls for the final step. "Partake of Isstan, and feel the accomplishments that he will tell to the Great Serpent."

The Ringneck Naga takes one of the fist sized rolls; He flicks his tongue over the piece of Isstan, savouring the taste of the Mind Mage's life. Next, he places the roll in his mouth, and swallows, feeling smooth texture give way to an interestingly corrugated surface, that changes a third time to a bitter soft coating as it slides down his throat. "Farewell Isstan," Bassai hisses, as he completes the swallowing.

Sephira peers at the roll a bit suspiciously, then murmurs, "Thank you, Qing." She gulps her roll down likewise.

The spirit mage takes his own ceremonial roll, and puts the plate back on its stone shelf, and covers it with a wooden bowl. He looks contemplative as the lump moves down his throat, and disappears beneath his robe. When he can speak again, he hisses, "Certainly. Perhaps I should have added more sugar-fir… but no matter. If you'll excuse me, Minister, Magess… I must follow the exhuming procession, and make sure the process isn't made any more a mockery as the Temple has already caused it to be."

The cobra guard bows, as do the attendants to their betters. Two of the attendants crawl into the hearse to safeguard the body while the third gets on front to drive; the cobra curls atop the hearse. "Farewell, minister, Mages," he says.

Sephira murmurs, "Farewell, Qing." Unable to resist the parting jibe, she adds, "I see you were very successful at covering up the lines," while glancing at the body.

Qing takes hold of some rungs on the back of the hearse, curling his lower half around a thick bar on the end. The Rokuga nods curtly at the cobra.

"Goodbye Qing, I may need to speak with you later." Bassai bows a final time as the Rokuga slithers onto the hearse.

The spirit mage only has enough time to his, "You may call upon me at your convenience, Minister." The white mage looks for a moment like he's about to say something acidic to Sephira, but doesn't have enough time…

The hearse clatters off, Dromodons moving slowly but steadily.

Bassai watches as the hearse rolls away, then slides his arm around Sephira's as they start to slither back to the entrance. "You seem to have had some clashes with him in the past. What are your opinions on his integrity?"

"I suppose he does his job well," the sleek life-mage murmurs as she accompanies Bassai. "Perhaps it is that he works with the dead so much, who care very little about manners, that he has less familiarity with the niceties of the living." She shudders. "I do not lose many patients, but it is always a possibility. Thus we have had occasion to meet in the past."

Sephira complains, "I particularly object to perennially being asked in the midst of a difficult procedure, 'Are you done yet? Can I get to work?'" She pauses at the intersection and glances left and right, trying to remember which way to the exit.

"I have no doubt they were brief and unpleasant occasions, and I must agree, his manners seem somewhat lacking." The Ringneck says, as he slides along beside the life-mage. "I have no wish to bring those unfortunate times to mind. I only ask because it may help Qing to know some of the things I uncovered in Rephidim. Can he be trusted with sensitive information?"

Sephira pauses, then nods. "I have never heard that he is loose-lipped or given to gossiping, dear Bassai."

Bassai pauses, looking to the left and right also. He flicks out his tongue, then regrets it as he tastes the air.

"I'll let you know my suspicions as soon as we return to your office, then we can decide what to tell him." The Ringneck hisses. The air seems faintly more acidic down the left passage, and reminiscent of the odour that clung to the Rokoga. Bassai decides to follow the preservative scent, "I believe it was this way… "