Just as I was about to begin explaining what we had called her over for, Koyl asked Vaozey if there was somewhere nearby that he could get some food. Vaozey, oddly, not only provided such a location but suggested that she would meet us over there, and gave a recommendation of what to order. Without asking for our agreement, she directed us down a nearby street northward, then broke off and went east to “go get some clothes on”, adding that she would still be wearing chainmail underneath it.

Koyl and I walked in the direction we were instructed to, drawing less looks from the passerby than before, looking for the restaurant Vaozey had told us about. We’re covered in dirt, that’s why they aren’t staring, I realized, we blend in more than we did before. Koyl was dusting himself off as we walked, and when I glanced over at him I noticed a small tear on the back left shoulder of his shirt. Better not say anything, I thought.

Sure enough, after about two hundred meters of walking down the winding road we saw a house that had been converted to serve as a store. A wooden overhang faced the road, under which there were some chairs facing a wall that had a long serving window cut into it. Inside the front room of the house, a man and a woman attended to a large grill in a kitchen. Both have marks of ire, I noted, nobody but Vaozey seems to have the kind of facial burns she does though. I wonder why.

“Hello, I would like the fried zowdao,” I said loudly, to let my voice carry over the noise of sizzling grease. Some of the slum dwellers who were eating food at the serving windows glared at me, and the male chef turned around from the grill with an eyebrow raised.

“You don’t fry zowdao,” he said.

“I was instructed to ask for the fried zowdao,” I told him. I heard Koyl sigh behind me, and I knew he was rubbing his forehead with his hand. It's obviously a passphrase, I wanted to say, there's no sense being overly subtle about it. If anything, the chef is the one making this interaction draw attention.

“Instructed by who?” the chef prodded.

“Vaozey Svaaloyweyl,” I replied, and all eyes at the vendor were suddenly on me. None of the looks were immediately hostile, but several of them verged on it, and one man was reaching for a hidden weapon. Why such a strong reaction? I wondered, All of them have marks too, so it's not like anyone overhearing this could be a Rehvite.

“Gods and spirits…” the chef muttered, shaking his head disdainfully. “Just come around the back.” He exited the kitchen then led Koyl and I to the back of the building, where there was a thick, wooden door with a lock of some kind on it. After fumbling with the keys for a moment, the chef opened the door to reveal a small room with a table, four chairs, and a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. “You can tell Vaozey that I don’t appreciate her sending over people who don’t have a lick of sense, you got that?” the chef snapped once we were inside.

“Sorry sir,” Koyl quickly intervened, “My friend here can be a bit thick. Also, how much for a plate of food?”

“What kind?” the chef asked.

“You had some fish and vegetables cooking right?” Koyl asked. “Just a plate of that would be fine.”

“Two plates,” I added. The chef licked his lips, then rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“Three plates, since you’re meeting someone,” he corrected. “You’re paying for all three. One ngoywngeyt each.” That’s a bit steep, I thought, or… is it? For the slums that’s steep.

“Of course,” Koyl said, pulling out three coins and handing them to the chef, who blinked in shock. “Just have that to us as soon as you can, alright? I’m starving here.”

“As soon as I can,” the chef echoed, walking out of the room and back into the kitchen. Koyl plopped down in a chair and held out his hand. I sat down across from him and handed him one ngoywngeyt.

“Two,” Koyl said, gesturing for more money.

“I don’t see why I should have to pay more than my own food,” I replied.

“Because you’re the reason we’re paying the asshole price,” Koyl griped, “so two. Can you please learn some social skills? I genuinely do not understand how you can be so good at reading people but also totally ignorant of basic social subtlety.” I sighed in annoyance just to let him know he was being unreasonable, but handed him a second coin anyway. It’s not like I don’t already have enough money, I thought. “Now, we probably have about half an hour before she gets here, so let’s just eat in peace and try not to piss off our host, okay?”

“The house she led me to yesterday is barely five minutes from here,” I said. “Even factoring in travel time, fifteen minutes would be an accurate estimate, assuming the armor suit is made to be removed without assistance and she retains the chainmail.” Koyl laughed and smiled.

“Do they just not have women where you’re from?” he joked. Not really, I replied mentally, not like these ones at least.

Twenty minutes later Vaozey walked into the room, wearing actual clothing. For upper wear she had a simple hooded tunic on, slightly larger than she needed, made of some kind of cotton-like fiber. For lower wear, she wore leather pants. Her boots were also leather, but obviously lined with some kind of metal. A thick cloth was wrapped around her face, hiding both its burns and her identity.

“So I see you ate,” she observed. Just as she sat down, the door to the kitchen opened and the female chef walked in, putting a plate in front of Vaozey. Food was piled notably higher on her plate than it had been on Koyl’s and my own. “Thanks,” Vaozey said, pulling out some money from her tunic pocket. She was wearing gloves on her hands, but the skin I could see on her wrists looked just as burned as her face.

“Already paid for,” the female chef said, “just try not to talk too loudly, you know?” Vaozey frowned, but put her money away and the female chef left the room, closing the door so we could have privacy.

“I don’t need your charity,” Vaozey growled at Koyl.

“Why do you assume it was me?” Koyl scoffed. “Yuwniht was the one who ended up paying for it, in the end.” Technically, I could have been paying for your food and mine, leaving you to pay for hers, I thought.

“How much?” Vaozey demanded.

“One ngoywngeyt,” I replied. Vaozey reached into her pocket and pulled out all the money inside, throwing it down onto the table. Seventeen ngeyt, I counted, taking none of it.

“Sorry, we’re poor in the slums,” Vaozey apologized insincerely, then she pulled down her bandanna and started eating. The moment her lower face was visible, Koyl inhaled sharply and his eyes widened. Vaozey’s eating style was even more messy than my own, probably owing to the fact that her lips didn’t make as good of a seal as they should have, and I watched Koyl in fascination as he couldn’t look away. “Like what you see? You don't have what it takes to get it.” Vaozey snarked with a mouthful of food.

“Oh, uh...” Koyl stumbled, looking away. Vaozey cackled out her strange, coarse barking laugh and kept eating. Aren’t facial scars supposed to be a positive in this culture? I wondered.

“So, you two idiots wanted to talk to me?” Vaozey asked. “I’m hoping it wasn’t just because pretty boy there wanted to try some new meat.” Surprisingly, Vaozey gestured to Koyl when she said “pretty boy”. I guess my face scars have changed my appearance enough to change how people see me, I figured.

“We need fake Rehvite identification,” I said, keeping my voice low enough that it wouldn’t be overheard. Vaozey cleared her throat mid-mouthful, but kept eating.

“And why would you think I had something like that?” she asked back.

“Does it even exist?” Koyl asked. Vaozey shrugged, then licked her lips off and crunched through some fish bones with her teeth, making Koyl wince and shiver.

“Such a niyzao,” she mocked him. “Here’s the thing, Rehvite identification is a tricky thing, and you’re not going to have much luck getting it. I would know because I’ve seen men and women flayed alive for trying. Have you seen one of their yeyjhaavgeylb?” I broke down the final word into its component parts, inferring its meaning. Metal, ornament, worn… medallion? I guessed.

“Not up close,” Koyl replied. “I assumed they had some kind of trinket.”

“I haven’t either,” I added.

“Where are you two jhoyndoymz from exactly?” Vaozey asked.

“Kahvahrniydah,” Koyl replied, “I’ve been living in Vehrehr for five years though. As for him, well, very far from here.” Further than you would believe, I thought. “I met him in Vehrehr and he couldn’t even read. You wouldn’t believe how heavy his accent was either.” Vaozey cleared her throat, then sucked at her teeth. Her plate was nearly empty, but she looked hungry enough to lick it clean.

“I suppose you wouldn’t have then,” she said. “High-ranking Rehvites have this little thing they take to official rituals, and probably business meetings. It’s a circle of metal with some moving parts inside that manipulate some bits on the surface. That, along with their official documentation, serves as their proof of membership.”

“Okay, so let’s steal one,” I suggested.

“Oh sure, go ahead,” Vaozey mocked. “We’re all just idiots here in the slums and nobody thought of that until forest man and his pet doymngaaw thought of it.” So obviously there’s more to it, I thought. “Obviously they aren’t that wawjhjhaayjh stupid. The metal part, the medallion, has moving parts inside it because it’s meant to be manipulated with force magic. It’s like layers of little metal gears, and you can’t change the displayed pattern forcefully or else it breaks. They’re all the same in construction, but each Rehvite has their own pattern that they make on it to match what it says in their documentation.”

“So we need to steal the documentation too,” Koyl said, prompting Vaozey to slap the table in front of her angrily.

“Are you two just going to interrupt me, or do you want to seytoydh get the answers you’re asking for?” Vaozey snapped. Koyl and I both stayed quiet, and Vaozey slid her plate away from her. “The documents are in another language,” she explained. “I don’t know what language, but it doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen before. They all know it, but nobody else does. Might be a code, not sure. I’m also pretty sure the documents also have their name and appearance listed out in them, so good luck finding one to match the giant over there.” We could kidnap one of them and force them to make fake documents, I considered, Interesting that she doesn’t realize they outright refuse foreigners.

“Can you draw one of these medallions, and some of the writing?” I asked.

“With what?” Vaozey asked back. I looked to Koyl, who shrugged. “You didn’t even buy me dinner, you’re not really in a position to impose on my time any more than you have right now. The only reason I showed up is because you butchered three Rehvites for fun, but also didn't butcher those idiots who tried to rob you. Now you've asked your questions, you've got your answers, so unless there's something else I have a long night ahead of me.” Vaozey got up from the table, pausing for a moment to let Koyl or I say something.

“Would there be medallions and documentation in a temple?” I asked.

“No,” Koyl said flatly, standing up as well. “If anything, this has convinced me that acting against a Rehvite temple is an even stupider idea than I thought it was. These people are extremely organized, and you’d just be putting a target on both of our backs.”

“Are you planning on converting, pretty boy?” Vaozey asked ominously. Koyl, surprisingly, wasn’t unnerved.

“Not unless I have to,” he replied. Vaozey scowled at him disdainfully, then wrapped the long cloth around the bottom of her face again to hide it.

“Then you already have a target on your back,” she told him. “Sure, you’ve been in town for a little while, I don’t know how long but surely not more than a week, and you haven’t had many issues. But the longer you stay, the more people are going to start remembering your face. Then they’re going to come ask you to convert, politely at first, but not so politely later on. Inns will stop having you and vendors will stop serving you unless you begin the conversion process. When you fail the process, or when you have too much spine to capitulate, you’ll end up tossed out into this dump just like the rest of us, penniless and trapped. They won’t even let you out of the gate to go die in the wilderness to prevent banditry of course. They'd rather have the pleasure of killing you or watching you starve.”

“You speak from experience?” I asked.

“Do I look like I grew up poor to you?” Vaozey replied venomously. “Do you think a slum girl could manage to build a suit of armor like mine, even from discarded and spare parts?”

“I assumed you had black market connections, possibly someone funding you,” I replied.

“If only I could be so lucky,” Vaozey seethed. “To answer your other question: there would likely be both documentation and medallions in a temple. Might even be templates for the documents. I’ve never been in one, as you can probably tell, so I’m not sure.” It doesn’t look like she’s lying, I thought, but then again, she did say she doesn’t know. All I can determine is that she isn’t lying about the possibility, from her point of view.

“I still don’t want anything to do with one of those places,” Koyl said.

“Think about it,” Vaozey said coldly. “Then come find me if you decide you have a jhoyt between your legs.” Vaozey exited out the back door, closing it roughly and leaving Koyl and I alone in the room. Koyl reached into his tunic and pulled out some medication, snorting it and letting out a deep groan as it took effect.

“There are other answers in that temple,” I said. “For me, at least, it might be worth it to get details on this plan of hers.”

“I don’t like it,” Koyl replied. “There’s no guarantee we get a way to Kahvahrniydah, even if we pull it off. She could have been lying to us as well. She has a reputation.”

“Like I said, we should hear the plan,” I suggested. “It’s likely she’s going to get herself caught or killed with whatever it is she’s doing, but don’t underestimate the usefulness of a distraction.”

“We could just look for people who want to party up with us to go to Kahvahrniydah,” Koyl countered. “We could get a group and walk there.”

“Vaozey suggested that we might not be able to get out,” I replied.

“She could be lying,” Koyl insisted. “That woman is… she’s not a decent person. People like her would definitely lie to get what they want.”

“She didn’t appear to be lying,” I said. “I’m fairly good at reading people, and she didn’t lie once in this conversation. Everything she said, she believed, as far as I could tell. If she provided incorrect information, she wasn’t aware of it.” Koyl frowned at me, then closed his eyes, letting his face relax as he calmed himself down. It took him ten seconds to speak again.

“If we go talk to her,” he said quietly, “I’m not committing to anything. If we do end up going to that temple, I’m running at the first sign of trouble. I’d say you should run too, but I’m pretty sure you’re as crazy as she is.”

“That’s reasonable,” I said, completely honestly. “Let’s get back to the inn before it gets too late.”

“Not like I’m going to sleep tonight anyway,” Koyl muttered, scooping up the seventeen ngeyt from the table.