THE others, excluding Vrihkhaḥ, who rested in a special chamber, ventured outside with Hirmān and Erezuri, having clandestinely exited the palace to procure supplies and enjoy the rest of what the city had to offer before having to depart. Erezuri had taken leave of her duties while Zochañtam and Fālihaḥ were out on business of their own, giving Hirmān some time to relax. The two, now free, took leave to give their newfound friends a tour of the city.

Feyūnhaḥ donned a blue dress with a thick veil over her mouth and covered her ears and horns with a long head-dress wrapped into her hair. And Erezuri and the rest donned embroidered tunics and fhorlia of the like that the wealthy merchants often wore with very convincing beards of different shapes and likeness. Tūmbṃār’s was long enough to make people think he was one of the Nitemṃār, the little people, whom are scarce seen nowadays.

Meanwhile, Rṭyāshphaḥ’s envoy had caught wind of the strange persons who had supposedly been offered chambers by the lord, and he grew more suspicious. He dispatched a few of his soldiers to investigate further. If they were who he thought they were, he instructed them to send for the other soldiers. And when they had left the premises, he laid on his soft bed to rest for a little while more before seeking council with Zvarañyagrū.

The group went first to the Fiyukthi. It, as in all other places, was set about a high tower, and they ascended the steps, praying before the fire and thanking the Servants for what they had done yesterday. The Servants accepted their gratitude, though Tūmbṃār could sense that they felt a little uncomfortable over the entire ordeal. It was to their luck that they did not storm out the moment they saw what happened to Aiṛth, of which many a result had occurred to others. Shameful, it was in their view, especially that a Servant be rendered to such a state, but the priests and priestesses of Vālukyāvaḷūr were rather forgiving. They performed the rites before the flames, casting oblations, and invoking the names of the Gods. And when they had finished, they gave their blessings to the group and sent them on their way with prayers that Aiṛth should heal soon.

They then ventured on a hidden but scenic route towards the south-eastern side of the city. The route was narrow, with few people walking its length, and there were even trees and flowers that dotted the sides, giving a good bit of shade under the fierce sun. Sanyhaḥmān looked for a chance to evade the group, for he was able to swipe one coin the night before, while everyone had been asleep, and wanted to gamble once more. Feyūnhaḥ, however, noticed his fidgeting, and being suspicious, she concentrated her hearing toward his pouch and heard the faint jingle of metal. She immediately swiped it when he was not looking, and opening it, found the missing coin.

“Do you never learn, you stupid monkey!” she said, berating him further, to which he held his hands up in prayer and begged forgiveness. When she had finished scolding him, Sanyhaḥmān sighed, knowing his chance to have been lost for some time.

Hirmān tapped his shoulders. “I understand how you feel, my friend,” he said in a whisper. “But worry not, for we shall yet find a way to the place of interest!”

He lightly tapped his pockets, to which the monkey-man’s eyes beamed in delight, renewed with hope. Tūmbṃār noticed where Hirmān tapped, and while the latter was unawares, he pick-pocketed his money bag and handed it over to Erezuri. She patted his head and thanked him, before looking to her brother with a glare holding the bag in her hand. Hirmān looked over his pockets and realized Tūmbṃār had swiped it.

“Are we not friends, Tūmbṃār?” said Hirmān with a whimper. “Why did you betray me so?”

“Because I want to see the city and I’d rather not spend that time having to search for you two,” he said with a smile. “Besides, no good will come of it, Sanyhaḥmān had all his money swiped yesterday, and I’m sure your money would’ve been swiped as well. No less by your sister.” And she nodded in kind. “Sometimes I wonder why people haven’t learned at all from Zūryaṃār’s mistake.”

“Hey, we aren’t foolish enough to risk our entire livelihood on a game!” said Sanyhaḥmān. “A good deal of that was my money!”

“Yes, but most was ours,” said Tūmbṃār, to which Sanyhaḥmān could not retort. “Besides, you were ready to put all the coins at stake yesterday.”

“That’s different!”

And they continued to bicker for a while longer, much to the amusement of the ladies. Nakthaḥm, however, was cautious; it was too early to be lax, for the envoy was still around and he thought right when concluding that the envoy most likely sent his men after them.

From the walkway they came to a zoo with few sets of deer, monkeys, rhinos, elephants and tigers, many of which could be found in the eastern side of Trdsyṃhaḥ all fenced into a wide grazing area. The buildings around the space towered high, as if to conceal its presence. Tūmbṃār, out of all them, was the most excited, not so much for seeing them treated as farm animals, but to the many tricks they were trained to perform. The trainer whistled the animals to come his way and had them perform various tricks—with Tūmbṃār’s favorite being the lion that flipped in the air, catching some meat in its mouth as it did so. He was not the only one astounded by the feat as others clapped, cheered, and even tossed coins to the trainer.

Tūmbṃār amidst the excitement of the tricks, noticed that the animals were despondent though it did not show on their faces. He gave a few shouts, catching their attention, and they scurried to Tūmbṃār at the edge of the fence. All the animals flocking over in quick succession, shocked and awed spectators—including the trainer, Hirmān, and Erezuri.

“Why do you seem sad?” he asked them.

The animals, in response, gave various shouts, whimpers, and grunts. And Tūmbṃār’s eyes widened when he heard them, even Sanyhaḥmān was shocked upon understanding their words. Tūmbṃār looked to the trainer with a fierce look and tensed his hand aloft much to the trainer’s fright. But just before he could course the elements, Nakthaḥm held to his shoulder tightly and bade him to stop, to which Tūmbṃār listened. The others in the group were confused, and they inquired Sanyhaḥmān and Tūmbṃār as to what animals said, but the two remained silent.

“It’s not something we would like to say,” said Sanyhaḥmān just as enraged as Tūmbṃār. “Erezuri, we don’t wish to burden you with more troubles, but perhaps when we have left you can inquire the trainer as to the health and happiness of his animals.”

Judging the monkey’s tone, she knew whatever could have happened was not something to brush aside. “Aye, I shall look into this later.”

Tūmbṃār bowed to the animals and bid them farewell. Turning, he walked away from the zoo and called to the others, “Let’s leave friends. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

They followed him as Erezuri tossed some coins over to the frightened trainer. When they had left, some hooded figures approached the trainer and carried him away from the vicinity.