THE blue of the night soon fell and Iḷēhaḥ, Nakthaḥm and Vrihkhaḥ returned to the top of the cliff overlooking the city and set camp there, while the others made to the entrance. Feyūnhaḥ covered herself in her white cloak, while Sanyhaḥmān and Tūmbṃār covered themselves in some ornamented sheets in Tūmbṃār’s bag. The guards looked at them with suspicion, but quickly changed their expressions when they looked upon Aiṛth, who stood just below their chins.

“We have come here on pilgrimage from Trdsyḷūr,” said Aiṛth.

“Trdsyḷūr!” shouted one of the guards. He looked to her with an intense gaze, as the others feared their identities revealed. “Do you know of what has occurred there? A priestess is said to be on the run, and the high priest has called for her capture to be tried at the city.”

Aiṛth stood frozen at those words and quivered. She did not wish to lie and muttered a prayer before speaking with a stutter, “Be that as it may—I have been sent on order of the high priest to seek the temple ruins to the east.” Her composure then recovered; the moonlight shone upon her, Svyamhaḥ giving her the stage with his blessings, and she, gazing at them with the black holes of the mask pointed directly at their eyes, said, “Will you deny me this? Do not think the Gods shall look upon you with favor for ignoring the words of the Servant.”

This was enough to put fear in them, for if there was one thing that unnerved the layman concerning the Servants—regardless of their position—were the masks they wore. The faces of the Destroyer put upon their person, as if Īrshevhaḥ was facing them. They stood resolute, turning their faces to the desert before walking to the side and bowing. The gates to the city opened and the two shouted, “Welcome respected Servant to the City of the Oasis, Vālukyāvaḷūr!”

She bowed and said a prayer for them. The four of them then walked through the gates past the stone walls, into the city where the sand was light but still present. And all the while, the words of the guards put her with great unease as her gut cramped. She feared she could not go home for quite some time, and though she had no intention of leaving her friends behind, to be given orders to be captured by the high priest had caused her greater distress than she had imagined. Her legs weakened and her stomach seared with pain. She did not expect the high priest to order such a thing: to ask for her death.

The streets were surprisingly calm given the number of people still about with an unexpected amount of Gazhigam traders; and all the while, the priestess’ stomach churned as her cramps became worse than before. Her cycles had come. But she bore it; she would not let the pain get the best of her. She continued to walk as she normally did with but with a slight quiver in her legs.

Meanwhile Tūmbṃār was fascinated by the place with all the caravans and the Aurvhaḥhō passing by, the roads that became more swept and tough as they journeyed through, the great towers from where the Fiyukthi shined, and—peculiarly—at the way the paths were set. For there was one large central road leading to a great palace in the middle that they could see from afar, its golden tip glistening in the moonlight, while the interior paths seemed to curve toward the palace. The farther they looked out, the more the ground elevated in the distance, as if the buildings stood upon the rims of the bowl.

Yet while he took in the sights he stood vigilant for many guards walked about while Feyūnhaḥ held onto his hand, making sure he would not wonder off. Though the guards did not seem interested in them, the words of the outside sentries were upon his mind and as far as he could tell, Aiṛth looked very much worried; and not just because she had lied (though he did not think it all problematic that she had to do so).

Sanyhaḥmān, however, seemed pleased, joyous even, as he whistled a tune. The rush of having all the gold with him made him think of what all he could do with it. Not only were all kinds of alcohol of access to him—some more expensive than Svyamhaḥ, though not as rich in taste—he could also gamble away. And dearly did he wish to do so, for he had not the time to partake in such leisure in Trdsyḷūr, not considering the time he bankrupted himself in Viprūtaram. The group did find it odd that he seemed fairly competent in a wide number of games they played. Though that competency did not seem to extend very far in his wasteful diversions.

Passing into the interior pathways, they made to the far side of the city. They soon came to an inn that seemed more like a palace from the outside, with a three-tiered fountain that shot water high into the air and vegetation of all kinds growing within the expansive courtyard that looked to be filled with rich patrons. They passed by as the patrons gave them an odd and suspicious look.

Moving through the entrance arch, they were graced by a golden light flooding from the high oculus. The polished stones gleamed beneath as they stacked each other into high walls, holding aloft the seven elevated floors that progressively became smaller as one went up. The stairs spiraled to each of the floors and for the fourth level onward, various lifts of cylindrical shape were stationed about that seemed to move on their own, but not by any use of the powers which greatly intrigued Tūmbṃār.

He had to wait, however, to inspect it, for they stood in front of a woman who seemed to be an innkeeper, though she seemed just as wealthy as all the others. And she in likewise to the patrons, looked to them with disgust and said, “Of what business do people like you have here?” She glared at Aiṛth, and continued, “Do not think that just because you are one of the Servants that I shall give you and your friends special treatment. Indeed, you must pay now if you wish to stay, though I do not think you have the means to do so! So I ask you leave before I call the guards.”

Tūmbṃār and Sanyhaḥmān could see her shaking and thought she was enraged, but in fact, her cramps had worsened all the more. She would not clutch it, and in labored breathing, said, “Sanyhaḥmān! Give her the money. We shall stay here.”

And Sanyhaḥmān now taking a closer look, realized just how lavish it was and was disheartened, for he felt they would have to pay a pretty penny to room here. He indeed desired that as much as possible could be saved for tomorrow’s gambling of which he planned upon entering the city, taking care of how he was going to avoid the two for the day while giving them just enough for them to buy provisions and rent camels.

“Do you really intend to stay here, Aiṛth?” asked Sanyhaḥmān in earnest, hoping she would reconsider. “Couldn’t we do with a more normal inn.”

Suddenly, she snapped, “Forfeit the money, Sanyhaḥmān!”

She quivered more as her legs shook. Feyūnhaḥ immediately held onto her and asked what was wrong, but she would not speak and stood shaking as if her legs would give out any moment. Tūmbṃār and Sanyhaḥmān were both shocked, with the latter’s hair sticking up on end. Sanyhaḥmān quickly dumped the bag of coins on the counter as he looked about, seeing some patrons turn their heads toward them. He quickly turned away, sighing; his greed had gotten the better of him.

The innkeeper who seemed a bit surprised herself looked inside to see a mass of gold coins emblazoned with the seal of Trdsyḷūr: the Light of Lūshhaḥ who descended in loose robes with outspread hands and six radiant wings. And her eyes alighted with joy but not upon seeing the coins of Trdsyḷūr but rather for coins of a larger set. Coins adorning the seal of the Gazhigam upon them: Athizhska who stood upon a seat with one leg hanging off and his left hand held up with his index finger curled.

“Is it true you traveled here!” she shouted in joy to them before looking around and covering her mouth. In a whisper, and holding one of the Gazhigam coins near them, she continued, “We will present you with the finest luxuries if you will allow me to keep just this single coin. These are prized possessions here, worth more than a thousand talents!”

Sanyhaḥmān was struck with surprise upon hearing that as a large smile spread across his face. It seemed Hvarathjās and Drukkuhrhī had underestimated just how much they were worth. He felt a little saddened now with having to part with even a single piece, but he did not seek to anger Aiṛth any more than he had and so relented to the innkeeper’s taking, much to her joy.

She called over the servants—dressed in beige fhorlia and loose cloth for their upper half—and they took their sacks, bags, and any utensils or tools they had visible. However, the group kept their weapons upon their persons, to which the servants looked to the innkeeper, who let it be, for she was still much too enamored by the coin. The servants brought them toward a lift on the other side of the hall, but Tūmbṃār then saw that there was another opening on the other side and something of even greater interest caught his attention. Feyūnhaḥ had by his point already let go of his hand, and he with this chance ran past the opening to see what there was. Feyūnhaḥ chased after him. She sighed, wondering if the real reason she was sent along was so that Iḷēhaḥ would have a break.

Outside, Tūmbṃār stood upon a porch with a balustrade that stood just under his chin. Yet that was enough for him to gaze past and see that they were above an elevated waterway from where below the palace, upon its moat, could be seen, with palm and banana trees lining the sides. The entire city was covered in shades of blue, dotted with tints of red and orange from the flames of torches scattered about. It was much larger than he had originally thought. Excitement heightened within him as they retrieved their things.

Feyūnhaḥ seemed none the more enamored and got a hold of Tūmbṃār, grabbing him by his ear as she pulled him back toward the others.

“Did I not say to be more mindful of your actions?” said Feyūnhaḥ. “Is not Aiṛth sick?”

To which Tūmbṃār having forgotten in his zeal, responded with a sullen, “Yes.”