“No,” I replied to Vaozey, stopping her excited twitching. “I’m not going to do anything of the sort.”

“If you want to learn about the noypeyyoyjh this is your best opportunity,” she countered.

“You can go commit suicide if you want to,” I said flatly, “I am not going to help you do it at the expense of my own safety.” With that, I ignored all her further protests and left the house, quickly turning down an alley and disappearing before she could leave behind me. You already told me everything relevant anyway, I thought, If I do have the opportunity, I’ll break into one of the Rehvite temples myself. I’ll just do it in a way that won’t end with my death.

Once I got out of the slums half an hour later, I noticed that the blood on my gambeson was drawing a lot of attention. I had planned to do so anyway, so I found a new store that I hadn't yet visited and traded it out for a new one. The new gambeson was dyed black, which was much more convenient than the near-white of the first one, and would cause me to be less visible at night.. The shopkeeper was very polite despite my appearance, once he saw I had no mark of ire, and I noticed a number of abstract golden symbols placed around the store. Rehvite, probably I assumed, though to avoid drawing suspicion I didn't ask.

“That will be two ngoywngeyt,” the shopkeeper announced once I was ready to leave.

“Here you go,” I replied, handing him the money. Since my other gambeson was largely undamaged, I had received the new one at a heavy discount.

“I must wonder, sir, what happened to sully your old garment so?” the shopkeeper asked. I was going to do this later, but now is good too, I thought. With deliberate precision, I flashed a few emotions across my face. Regret, sadness, a tinge of anger, and suppressed frustration.

“I was wandering around when I ended up in the slums,” I explained. “I heard a sound coming from an alley, and by the time I found it…” I trailed off, trying to look troubled.

“Someone was hurt?” The shopkeeper asked, sounding very concerned.

“Three adolescents,” I answered, tactically breaking eye contact and frowning. “Two were laying on the ground, covered in blood, and the third had a knife stuck into his eye. He was groaning something about a woman in armor, then he pulled the knife out and he fell unconscious. I tried to wake him, but it didn't work.” I think that's the right amount of emotion, I thought, it feels strange to have to exaggerate this much.

“Oh no,” the shopkeeper gasped, “I saw the mayor’s son and his friends walk by here earlier in the day. Surely it wasn’t-”

“I'm not from this city, as you can tell, but they were well dressed,” I said. “There were no guards nearby, and nobody responded to my calls for help. Then I saw someone in armor walking in my direction from down the street, so I fled. It's just so horrible, who would hurt children like that?” As long as I look outraged or saddened, he won’t suspect me, I thought, using the word “children” deliberately to elicit more sympathy for the dead adolescents.

“You said the attacker was wearing armor?” the shopkeeper asked. I suddenly shifted my expression to fear and shock, as if realizing my situation. As if I didn't realize that what I was saying might involve me in the murders, I thought.

“I-I can’t be involved in this,” I stammered quickly. “I head out with a caravan in a day. It’s my whole livelihood. I need to bring the money I'm making back to Yahn Gwah for my family. Please, you can't tell the guards I was there.” That should seem like a reasonable motivation, I assumed, it comes up during conversations often here. I took a step back as if to flee from the shop.

“Sir, please,” the shopkeeper said, holding out a hand to calm me. “I will tell the guards about what you saw, but I will leave you out of it. Just tell me as much as you can recall. My brother is an investigator, I will give the information directly to him in private. You won't have to make a statement.” I looked deliberately conflicted for a few seconds, then closed my eyes and huffed.

“There's not much more than what I already said,” I told him. “I saw tall figure, about my height actually, wearing some kind of patchwork suit of armor. I wasn't really... I was trying to help the kids, but when I saw the person in armor... Like I said, I can't be involved, my family needs this caravan job.” I did my best to look ashamed of myself, like a coward would. Apparently it worked, judging by the shopkeeper's reaction.

“Please, for your own safety, stay out of the slums,” he advised. His expression turned dark, and he met my eyes with a serious gaze. “If what you are telling me is true, you are lucky to be alive as well. There is a well-known killer in those slums who wears a homemade suit of armor. I’ll make sure this gets to my brother as soon as I can. If the guard do catch up with you, just tell them what you told me. You did nothing wrong, and they will not hold you. I promise.” With a nod and a sigh, I walked out of the store into the street. With any luck, they'll go after Vaozey, and this will no longer be my problem, I thought as I disappeared into the traffic.

It took me a another hour and a half to figure out where the inn was because I realized I hadn’t been paying enough attention to my location when Koyl and I had left. I arrived back at the inn before sunset, entered, and paid for a single room for the night. The dining room was serving supper, not for free, so I paid for that too and sat down to eat. Without Koyl at the table, I drew more stares than usual as I surveyed the room continually. Not a single mark of ire, I noted, though most of these people probably aren’t locals. I wonder if this place would let me in if I had one.

“Hey, you’re here early,” I heard Koyl say from across the room, and I watched as he sauntered over to the table in new clothes. He was wearing a gambeson, like mine but dyed blue, brand new boots, and loose-fitting leather pants.

“I paid for a single room,” I told him.

“And new clothes,” he added with a smirk, “seems like we both had that idea. You know that black is the color of purity, right? I would have gone for brown.”

“I had no idea,” I replied, turning back to my food. I could tell Koyl was watching me eat, but I said nothing because my mind was occupied.

“So I heard something interesting on the way in here,” Koyl said.

“Did you find a caravan?” I asked, realizing I had forgotten an important question. I looked at Koyl and his expression was enough to tell me the answer. We should probably discuss this in private, I thought, seeing a nearby man unsubtly listening in on our conversation.

“Let me grab a bite to eat,” he replied, walking off to pick up some cheap food.

“You got the room across the hall from me again,” Koyl chuckled. “Well, at least that makes this convenient.” Both of us were sitting in my room, which just happened to be soundproof enough to be able to give us some privacy for conversation.

“What happened with the caravans?” I asked.

“What do you think?” Koyl replied, taking a small whiff of his medication. I saw the effects kick in, but they didn’t seem as extreme as they had a week ago. “It’s going to take a few days,” Koyl continued, “there’s something odd about this place. More than just what we’ve seen so far. I kept getting asked questions that didn’t make any sense, then denied. If I didn't know better I'd say it was-”

“Rehvites,” I said, finishing his sentence. “Apparently this city has a large population of them.” Koyl’s brow narrowed at my reply, and he stroked his chin with his hand. He also shaved his facial hair again, I noticed, it must be inconvenient to have to do that.

“Last time I was here there weren’t any in the city,” Koyl muttered to himself. “That explains some things though. Maybe I should get a copy of the book of Rehv to skim through, that could help…”

“Are those available for purchase?” I asked. Koyl looked at me with wide eyes, then grunted.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Also, did you hear anything about some murders today? Someone in the lobby was mentioning it, three rich kids got killed in some alley in the slums. There might be a bounty to collect if it's true, we could look into that.”

“Would the bounty be enough to help us leave?” I asked.

“Well, mayb-” Koyl began, then he stopped and looked at me with his mouth half open. “Oh please tell me it wasn’t you,” he sighed quietly.

“It wasn’t me,” I lied. Koyl looked at me for a moment, then sighed again. I got ready to stop him and cover his mouth if he did anything stupid, just in case.

“You’re an even better liar than I am,” he hissed, “but I’ve seen you do it enough times to know what it looks like. You’re lucky I'm very calm right now or I'd be yelling.”

“I was prepared to muzzle you to keep the conversation private,” I replied.

“Of course you were,” Koyl grumbled, rubbing his brow. For another few seconds, he did nothing but make increasingly loud groans and tense his facial muscles up. “What happened?” he asked simply. Seeing no reason to lie, I started my story with my entrance to the alley and ended it just before Vaozey showed up. Koyl listened the entire time, mostly stone-faced, only showing some sort of reaction when I mentioned cutting the girl’s fingers off.

“Therefore, it was self-defense,” I finished. Mostly, I added silently.

“You can’t murder in self-defense in Uwriy,” Koyl replied. “One of these days I’m going to have you tell me where you’re actually from, where something so extreme is legal. You also can’t torture someone in self-defense, but I’m hoping you knew that already.” he mumbled the word ‘torture’, I noted.

“Yes, I knew that,” I replied. But the torture was a calculated action to obtain information, I added, it just didn't work very well.

“Well the good news is that they’re looking for some armored maniac who, while sounding a lot like you, is almost certainly not you because she’s female,” Koyl said matter-of-factly.

“Vaozey,” I said. “Yes, I know.” Even through the haze of drugs, I could see Koyl’s entire body slowly tighten up in response to the words.

“Just tell me the rest before I lose the nerve to hear it,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Seytoydh lawmzaob,” Koyl muttered under his breath as I finished my story. He was angry, angrier than I had seen him in some time, and it took him several seconds of staring at the floor to even calm himself enough to swear.

“I'm considering trying to quietly raid one of their temples for information,” I said. “I want to get your input on the idea.”

“Those yeyhhayseytayb are going around mutilating people,” Koyl muttered, not really paying attention to what I was saying. “The pogroms too, I think I heard someone referring to that today. Also, from what you told me it sounds like I’d be due for a mark on my face if they caught me out in the open.”

“It’s not any of our business, and all you would need to do is perform force magic to have them leave you alone,” I stated plainly. Koyl looked up at me with a cold stare, then back down at the floor. “However, the temple may have information that is useful-” I continued.

“To you,” Koyl interjected.

“-and so it may be prudent to raid it for that information,” I finished. “We could also try to obtain valuables and currency, assuming they are of a small enough size to steal,” I added the last part in an attempt to engage Koyl, as he was clearly not receptive to the idea of a raid with no benefit for him.

“So you want to go meet up with this Vaozey woman and do something stupid,” Koyl said.

“Absolutely not,” I answered. “Her plan is most likely a borderline suicidal frontal charge, judging by her disposition. Vaozey is suffering from some form of mental disorder, most likely as a result of her experiences and some inborn genetic factors. We may wish to coincide a raid with hers, but it would be best to not co-operate directly with her. She is very unstable.”

“What information do you even want?” Koyl asked.

“The exact location and nature of the noypeyyoyjh,” I replied immediately. “Also, possible numbers for security around the site, entrance requirements, and knowledge of anything else that might be a benefit or a barrier to me accessing the site.” If I could get an overhead map that would also be good, I thought, but considering how rare maps are here it’s unlikely they have one.

Koyl stood up from the chair and began pacing around the room, stopping every few steps to mutter something inaudible to himself. It’s fascinating to see just how disconnected his mind can be from his body when he’s deep in thought, I noted, he doesn’t even realize there’s a fly crawling on his face right now. His strange actions continued for several minutes, then swatted the insect from his face and sat back down on the chair across from the bed I was sitting on. He took another whiff of znahdeyvtih, then shook his head like he was trying to dislodge something in his skull and slapped his cheeks lightly with his hands a few times.

“I think I agree with you,” he finally said. “None of this is any of our business, we shouldn’t get involved. I’m going to leave this alone as much as I possibly can because I have no interest in the consequences of getting caught.” A disappointing, if predictable answer, I thought. I had estimated my chances of successfully convincing Koyl to aid me at around thirty percent with the possibility of monetary gain.

“I may do one without you,” I said. “It would just be more effective if you were also present. I have no need for the valuables, and there should be plenty in a temple.” He is usually very motivated by money, I thought, maybe he just needs another chance to agree.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Koyl huffed, “but in this case, the money just isn’t worth the risk.”