“LŪSHHAḤ!” said Aiṛth in a raised voice. “He has sent you on this quest? Things are becoming stranger and stranger. He shall not descend now, right? That would be grave news for us all!”

“Aye,” said Iḷēhaḥ, “and I know at the very least that should not happen. But as for many other things relating to him, I am afraid ’tis out of the realm of my knowledge.”

“That is fine, but I feel very sorry, however, for your arm,” said Aiṛth, holding Iḷēhaḥ’s hand. “I should hope you have to suffer no more. As do the rest of us.”

The others nodded in turn.

“Whether goddess or not, we’ll do our best to aid you!” said Feyūnhaḥ. “You’re a dear friend to us all. I hope you’ll not have to use your powers.”

“You need not worry on that account. So long as nothing we cannot defeat comes our way, I will have no need of them.”

“And the merrier we shall be for it!” said Sanyhaḥmān, drinking another chug.

Iḷēhaḥ then stood, and facing Nakthaḥm, bowed. “I shall heed the words of my forefather and say, I am sorry. I apologize for the way I have treated you and though I do not think my animosity shall vanish soon, I shall do my best to see you as friend and ally. Hard it must have felt to have to annihilate your kin and though I feel little remorse for it, I know at the very least what it feels like to lose one’s family.”

“I take your words to heart Iḷēhaḥ,” said Nakthaḥm. His grin left him, yet a gentle smile replace it. “And as I have related before, I shall do my best to not provoke your ire; you still, after all, hold the key to my heart.”

Lifting herself, she said, “Aye and continue to hold I shall. Though I trust you, I do not trust your nature. Perhaps I never will.”

“I shall not blame you for it, though it does not mean I shall not ask again,” said Nakthaḥm with his self-same grin.

Aiṛth clapped and said, “My! To think a demon and a goddess could resolve their differences! Never would I have expected this; indeed a great story this shall make for the future. Perhaps I shall make a song of it!”

Iḷēhaḥ flustered from that remark and, Feyūnhaḥ giggled and embraced her. “Don’t be embarrassed, perhaps one day she will make songs of us all! And with the veena in hand, we should have quite the nice melody.”

“Indeed! I wouldn’t mind some lays of the Monkey and Demon and their drunken debauchery,” said Sanyhaḥmān screeching as he grabbed onto Nakthaḥm, and spilled his milk wine over him.

“Must you be so slovenly, you ape!” said Nakthaḥm, irritated that he would have to have his clothes cleaned again. The fumes of the liquor almost made him puke, but he resisted the urge, for he would not be outdone by the drunkard beside him.

“The company seems whole once more,” said the King as he bellowed with laughter. “But quite the adventure ye have had! And I think no sooner should greater things come your way. Hold well to your fellowship!”

The group cheered to that. Those whom drank struck their mugs together and chugged another pint. The third wave of meals came their way, and they continued to talk at length of many things. Tūmbṃār, having not eaten anything and still not feeling full, fell backwards into a slumber. But something seemed strange at that moment, for the people on the upper ends of the hall fell one by one. The group could not help but feel very drowsy.

“Something is strange,” said Feyūnhaḥ as a large thump hit the table. The King too had gone unconscious. “Everyone seems to be following after the boy, but this feels unnatural.”

“I think our food was laced,” said Aiṛth, barely able to keep herself upright. “The sensation is all too familiar: a numbness likened to the anesthetic we make use of. But such things should only be available to the Servants. I fear we have let our guard down all too soon.”

Nakthaḥm vomited on himself and as he wiped his mouth, he said, “To think this body cannot even withstand such trivial additives. To have to sleep so soon vexes me all the more.”

They each fell face-flat onto the table as their breathing quieted.