“I trust your friend has adequately informed you of the conditions of your departure?” Roytmay asked once Vaozey and I went back inside. He met us on the fourth floor, which was some kind of office, and directed us to sit at a table he had set out.

“Yes,” I replied. “You do understand that what you’re asking for will be of no use to you though, right?” Roytmay laughed, then shook his head.

“You two really are decent people,” he chuckled. “I know you think I can’t do anythin’ with it, but it’s not for you to decide. So, get me that medallion thing and the papers that go with it, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“When does the caravan leave?” I asked.

“It’s my caravan, so whenever I say so,” Roytmay replied. “As soon as you get me what I’m askin’ for I’ll have you out within a day, tops.” That’s good, I thought, looking over to see Vaozey scratching at the table’s surface with one of her yellowed nails. “Oh, and just so you know, I’ve heard a rumor that you might be interested in,” Roytmay added.

“Rumor?” Vaozey asked, suddenly interested.

“The jhaoyeyl is supposed to be around here, possibly in the city,” Roytmay replied with a smile. “That’s the freak the Rehvites have been yammerin’ on about for a while now, supposed to be real tough and crazy violent. I’m tellin’ you this because, if they’re right, you might bump into him seein’ as he’s got a penchant for killin’ their kind. Just stay outta his way if you see him.” I suppressed a smile, and Vaozey scowled.

“We’ll keep an eye out,” she replied. “Now if you’ll excuse us-” Vaozey began to get up from her chair.

“Nah, nah,” Roytmay called out, gesturing for us to sit down. “You two are stayin’ here tonight, my treat, I’ll bring up food for you. Oh, and Yuwniht, I’ve got your twenty ngoywngeyt here, you two can take as much repellent as you need. It’s on the house.”

Later that night, after Vaozey and I ate, we were both laying in separate beds on the third floor, trying to sleep. It wasn’t as though the beds were uncomfortable, or the room noisy, but something about the situation just wouldn’t let me lose consciousness. I heard Vaozey shift around her bed, one diagonally across the room from mine, and mutter something under her breath.

“This mihshahn of yours,” she finally said, sitting up and propping herself up against the wall. “If I’m going to be helping you out with it, I need to know what it really is.” With a sigh, I opened my eyes and sat up as well. The moonlight seeping in through the cracks in the window shutters was enough to allow us to see each other, so no other light was necessary.

“I’m fairly sure I told you, I just need to get to the noypeyyoyjh,” I replied. “Once I reach it, we’re done.” Vaozey frowned, then scratched at her hair.

“I don’t understand you,” she muttered. “What kind of stupid goal is that? You kill people, you get your arm blown off, you make an enemy of the most powerful organization in this country, just to do that? Just to reach it? To touch it? Why?”

“It’s just my mission,” I replied. “I have to do it.”

“Even now, the way you talk about it, there’s no passion in what you’re saying,” Vaozey continued. “You sound like you’re describing something you’re bored with, not something that would motivate you to do what you’re doing.” She tried to give me some kind of discerning stare from across the room, but it lacked the impact she was intending due to the distance between us. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

“No,” I lied.

“I said I’d follow your orders, but I’m not going to let you lie so blatantly,” Vaozey retorted. “Do your people not have a concept of honor or loyalty?” Both of those are inferior to duty, I wanted to say, but I kept silent and considered the situation.

“I won’t tell you everything, but I suppose I can say a bit more,” I replied. “When I was given this task, I was told that I needed to ‘fix’ the noypeyyoyjh. Given what I’ve seen with the Rehvites, it’s probable that they were the ones to ‘break’ it, so my goals likely oppose theirs. I likely have to make physical contact, or enter the structure.” Vaozey was quiet for a moment, and I thought she might snap at me like Koyl did when I told him the same information, but instead she just let out a low grunt.

“That begs a lot of questions,” she said. “Who told you to do this? You’re a soldier of some kind, don’t even bother denying it, so was it your captain? A general, maybe?”

“I can’t tell you that,” I replied.

“Fine, but are you sure whoever it was wasn’t… playing a joke on you?” Vaozey asked, pausing in the middle of her question to try to find the right words. “Are you sure that it was a serious request?”

“Why would you think that it wasn’t?” I asked back, getting a moment of silence in return.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vaozey asked, continuing the string of questions.

“No,” I replied, getting a few seconds of silence as Vaozey tried to determine if I was being truthful.

“What do you know about the noypeyypyjh?” she asked. “The object itself, I mean, not the site around it.”

“Approximate location and appearance,” I replied. I can’t exactly tell her I saw a three-dimensional projection of the location from overhead, I thought.

“And you’ve never seen one in person before?” Vaozey asked.

“Correct,” I replied, and Vaozey grumbled to herself again for a few seconds. She knows something my operator neglected to tell me, probably, I guessed.

“A noypeyyoyjh doesn’t have anything to ‘fix’,” Vaozey explained. “It’s just a big shard of… something. It’s not metal or stone or glass, it doesn’t get hot or cold, it has no entrances or exits, it doesn’t even have texture. More importantly, nothing can damage one, not even leave a scratch. ‘Fixing’ something like that isn’t just pointless, it’s not possible.”

“How do you know that?” I asked, before recalling a piece of information Vaozey had mentioned in the past. “The books you read as a child?”

“The history books,” Vaozey confirmed.

“Why didn’t you mention this in Owsahlk when I asked for information?” I asked.

“I thought you knew,” Vaozey replied, as though her answer should have been obvious. “For someone who’s seytoydh obsessed with reaching one it’s surprising you don’t.” Yes, it would have been nice to have an actually useful briefing before this mission, I thought, suppressing a hint of annoyance.

“What else did the books say?” I asked.

“Just speculation about their origins,” Vaozey replied. “Rehvite filth obviously believe they’re some kind of monuments to their god, and we Luwahriy used to believe that they were prisons for evil spirits a long time ago. Other countries have other myths, but there’s nothing conclusive. Nobody knows who made them, or how, so the only thing anyone can conclude is that they’re of supernatural origin.”

“Other countries?” I wondered aloud. “Aren’t there just two noypeyyoyjh sites, both in Uwriy? Why would they have myths about them?”

“There are nineteen noypeyyoyjh sites that have been discovered,” Vaozey replied, sounding surprised. “Scholars think there are probably some still buried, or underwater.” Oh, I thought blankly, that’s concerning.

“How many in jungles or forests?” I asked.

“Probably five or six at least, why?” Vaozey asked back. I resisted the urge to sigh, and instead laid back down and pulled the sheet of the bed over myself. No, there’s no way my operator would have done something that stupid, I told myself, It’s the one in Uwriy, it has to be.

“I’m getting tired,” I replied. “Tomorrow, I’ll need you to take the lead when it comes to the social norms of attending the funeral. I’ve never been to one before.”

“Right,” Vaozey replied, and I heard her lie down as well. “Considering how you are, I can’t even imagine how vulgar your people’s funerals must be.”

The next morning Roytmay brought us some food, then walked us through some storage on the third floor and told Vaozey and me to pick out new clothing and equipment. I hadn’t planned to go to the funeral in my gambeson, but Vaozey gave some protest at the prospect of leaving her armor behind. We both ended up picking simple woven clothing in the style that was most common in Towrkah, and I also grabbed a headband to help cover up the scar from the monkey attack. Vaozey, meanwhile, awkwardly tied her hair into a ponytail with some leather string to keep it out of her eyes.

As for weapons, Vaozey swapped out her usual mace for a rod-like club that could be hidden in a sword sheath, and I kept my sword as usual. Roytmay had some throwing knives, though not the thin kind designed to be held in a holster, so I took three of those as well and kept them in my pocket. As I armed myself, the thought popped into my head that I was about to undertake a task that was very similar to two other tasks I had failed recently. This time, there won’t be any mistakes, I told myself.

“Let’s get the plan worked out now,” I declared.

“My thoughts exactly,” Roytmay smiled back.

The site of the funeral was a temple in the west end of the city, situated at around the halfway point between the center citadel and outer wall. Like the temple in Owsahlk, it was a black marble structure with gold lining, though it didn’t have as large of a yard and was only about half the size. Vaozey couldn’t take her eyes off the building as we stood across the street, watching for our target.

“One more time,” I said quietly. “What’s the plan?”

“You are trying to annoy me at this point,” Vaozey growled back. “This is, what, the seventh time? Do you think I’m so stupid that I forgot?”

“Repetition of this kind is to ensure you recall all details in the moment, under pressure,” I explained. “It also has the advantage of helping to identify potential blind spots and issues with the plan. Now, one more time, that’s an order.”

“Gods,” Vaozey sighed. “We’re waiting for the guy to enter before we go in. He’s tall, bald, and had a beard. Since half the people in this part of town look like that, we’re going to identify him by his clothing. He’s some bigshot half-noble, so a maelaojhoyt like him will be wearing clothes worth more than a small house. Then, we go in and try to swipe the thing from him. If we can’t get in, we wait for him outside, then put him down in an alley somewhere.”

“And what if we can get in, but we can’t take it from him?” I asked.

“Quiet,” Vaozey hissed, gesturing down the road at a group of humans. Besides their flowing black robes that were visually striking, each individual was wearing an excessive amount of jewelry, from gold rings on their fingers, to ornate pins in their clothing, to cut jewels hanging off their ears and wrists by thin metal strings. The group was chatting happily amongst themselves as they walked up to the temple and went inside, blissfully unaware of Vaozey and me observing them.

“Seyt,” Vaozey swore once the Rehvites were inside.

“Did you see the target?” I asked.

“No,” Vaozey grunted. “Every single seytoydh one of them was dressed like they were begging to be robbed. How the seyt does Roytmay expect us to tell which one we’re going after? Half of the men were bald!”

“Maybe they all have identification?” I thought aloud. “As I understand it, the main barrier to status in their organization is wealth, and they appear wealthy.”

“Let’s just go in and grab one,” Vaozey sighed, starting to cross the road. I put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and she looked back at me.

“We can’t ‘just grab one’,” I told her. “We don’t know if all of them have identification, and we don’t know which ones are the least likely to be noticed if missing. If we can get in, we should try talking to these people a little bit to get a sense of the dynamic, then we can make a move. Besides, I didn’t see the target either, so maybe he didn’t show up.” Begrudgingly, Vaozey seemed to agree with me, so we crossed the street and started our plan.

“Who let them in?” I heard someone ask for the third time, and I had to admit that Vaozey’s grunt of annoyance was well justified. We hadn’t had any problems getting in the front door, my demonstration of force magic was enough for the attendants to let us inside, but once we entered the chapel it seemed that everyone was watching us but refusing to look at us at the same time. Snide comments abounded as we walked around the open prayer area, just loud enough that they were obviously intended for our ears.

“We were friends of the deceased,” I finally said, turning to the weaselly-looking man who had spoken last. Vaozey had told me in the morning that speaking at a funeral was impolite, but nobody else seemed to care. “We’re here to pay our respects.”

“Then be quiet about it and get it over with quick,” someone jeered, and the rest of the crowd began chuckling. I didn’t need to look at Vaozey to know she was bristling at the insult because even my body wanted to retaliate instinctively.

“Come on,” Vaozey muttered, pulling me along to the altar at the back of the chapel. We approached, seeing a closed wooden box where the deceased’s remains were stored, and Vaozey laid her hand on it.

“What are you doing?” I asked quietly.

“Praying, you idiot,” Vaozey hissed back. “I told you about this when we were eating breakfast.”

“You killed her,” I whispered. “Why would you pray for her?”

“I know I seytoydh killed her,” Vaozey hissed, “but we need to keep up appearances, don’t we?” Turning back to the box, she began muttering under her breath. “…probably would have lived longer if you weren’t a traitorous teylm ngoyth but at least this is giving us an opportunity…” As Vaozey muttered some words for the corpse, one of the Rehvite men approached us.

“How did you know her?” he asked me, his tone oddly polite. I noticed that, of all the people in the temple, he was dressed the least extravagantly, and he lacked the typical accent of the area. He was clean-shaven, wore a simple leather cap, and otherwise looked very normal for a Luwahriy.

“Ihyao lived in the same area as us when we were younger,” I lied, following what Rotymay had told us as our cover story and swapping back to my fake Gwahlaob accent.

“Is there some reason you’re not praying with your… associate?” the man asked.

“My people don’t pray for the dead,” I told him. The man rubbed his chin, expression unreadable.

“Much like us then,” he replied. “The dead are already alive again as something else, there’s no sense praying to them. All it does is serve to further attach us to that which is gone from our lives. Even if they could hear us, it would be cruel to remind them of what they once were.”

“Because being human is so horrible, right?” Vaozey asked, barely containing her venom as she looked up from the coffin, and forgetting to use a Towrkah accent like she was supposed to. “And being a ‘detested’, well, that’s the worst kind of human, isn’t it?” The man, surprisingly for a Rehvite, looked almost sympathetic.

“The end of one life results in the creation of others,” he replied. “It is not something to be mourned, even if it causes pain to those who are left behind. Our inability to see reality for what it is, our pain, is a result of our weakness and lack of knowledge. All humans were created broken, even those Rehv favors, fixing ourselves with his wisdom will not happen in a day.”

“Seytoydh…” Vaozey started to swear under her breath.

“I take it that neither of you are believers then,” the man said, looking between us.

“No,” I confirmed. “We were hoping to meet… what was his name again?” I turned to Vaozey, feigning ignorance to draw her back into the conversation politely before her anger could stew and grow.

“Awptheyn,” Vaozey muttered.

“Yes, Awptheyn,” I agreed. “As we heard, he was a close friend of Ihyao’s, and took care of her in the months before she was murdered. We hadn’t spoken to her in a while, due to work, so we haven’t had the chance to meet him.”

“Ah, yes Awptheyn is…” the man began, his expression looking strained.

“We want to thank him,” Vaozey interjected, going with one of our previously discussed tactics. “Ihyao didn’t have an easy life, but for the last few months we heard she was happy.”

“I’m sure he needs no thanks,” the man replied.

“It’s a matter of honor,” I insisted. “Good deeds require thanks, especially in this case. We were hoping he would be here, but as far as we can tell he hasn’t arrived yet.” The man frowned, then sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“Awptheyn is busy with work today,” he explained. “I’m not sure he would let you in to see him. It’s not anything against you personally, of course, but consorting with-”

“We know,” Vaozey said, louder than she probably intended to. The room went quiet for a moment, then everyone went back to talking. “We know,” she repeated in a more controlled tone of voice.

“You could try finding him at the jewelry shop on Lowland Crescent,” the man suggested. “He is a frequent customer there. Just know, there are guards outside, so if you were intending anything untoward-”

“If I wanted to seytoydh rob someone, I’d choose one of these idiots, not someone who could have me strung up and vivisected,” Vaozey growled, gesturing to the chattering Rehvites.

“What my friend means is that we do not intend to cause any trouble with Awptheyn,” I said quickly.

“Of course,” the man replied with a slight bow of his head. “Please, I apologize. It is below me to resort to such assumptions. Forgive me for assuming ill intent of you.”

“You’re forgiven,” I said. “Thank you for the information, we’ll be on our way now.” Before the conversation could deteriorate further, I grabbed Vaozey’s arm and led her quickly out of the temple. Halfway to the exit, she began to outpace my walking speed, and she was nearly running once we crossed the threshold back into the courtyard. Stumbling for a bush, she vomited, then spat and cleared her throat.

“Seyt,” she swore, wiping her mouth.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I think I snapped something in my belly trying not to kill that guy,” she groaned, stretching her abdomen. “Let’s just get to that shop and get this over with.”

Lowland Crescent was a small semicircle of road in the north end of town, tucked away from the main road in such a way that it would have been almost invisible if not for a crier standing at one of its entrances advertising the stores inside. Though the crier looked nervous when speaking to us, he confirmed that one of the shops was the jewelry shop we were looking for, and told us which building it was. I didn’t know why he felt the need to tell us the outside appearance of the shop until we entered the crescent, and I saw that all the signs were in the strange Rehvite script instead of standard Uwrish. Even with the additional context, I couldn’t quite figure out how to translate any of the words I could see.

Vaozey and I waited outside the shop, drawing suspicion but no comments from the passersby, until a tall man with a shaved head and immaculately trimmed brown beard walked onto the road from the same place we had entered. He wore a long cloak embroidered with gold patterns on a black background, and his gleaming red eyes locked onto us as he approached the store. For just a moment I was worried he might recognize me, but nothing in his gaze suggested he knew who I was. Vaozey and I shared a glance, then looked around for guards, and finally approached the man who was almost certainly who we were looking for.

“You are Awptheyn?” I asked.

“I am,” he replied, straightening his back and wiping off his shoulders with gloved hands. “Do you have business with me? You don’t seem the type.”

“We were friends of Ihyao,” Vaozey said, straining to sound calm. I watched for a reaction, but Awptheyn didn’t so much as flinch. He didn’t even have a pupil reaction, something humans could barely control. Genuinely, he had no emotional response to Vaozey’s statement.

“Who?” he asked.

“The slum-trash shehp you’ve been spending your nights with for the last few months,” Vaozey said before I could stop her, loud enough that everyone could hear what she said. I heard someone inhale nearby and saw a guard watching us, hand on his weapon. “In case you can’t recall which one, the dead one,” Vaozey added. “We just came from the funeral you didn’t bother showing up to, even though I’m fairly sure you paid for it.”

“What she means is-” I began.

“I remember her now,” Awptheyn said, still unbothered. “I will repeat myself, do you have business with me?” I could see Vaozey winding up for another verbal jab, and in my rush to think of something to say my brain grabbed onto a cultural practice that I had no idea if the Uwrish were familiar with.

“We’d like to discuss death compensation with you,” I interjected. Awptheyn raised an eyebrow, showing his first bit of emotion. “She was killed because of her association with you,” I explained. “She has living relatives that are aggrieved. We would like to discuss how to settle this matter to prevent any rash actions.” Warbreed tribes sometimes lent each other forces, and if those forces were killed there was a practice of compensating the damaged tribe to avoid grudges, so I hoped these people did something similar.

“If we must,” Awptheyn replied after a moment’s consideration. “Please, I will lead you to a place where we may speak in private. Your forethought in this matter is most appreciated.”