The highest good is water, it nourishes all things and competes with none.

- Unknown.

The desert sun had sunk a little lower in the sky but still beat down, fierce and strong. The glare from the refracted light, rather than the heat itself, was more of a problem. I was forced to shield my eyes, as the white shimmering sands were almost painful to look at.

I found my companions, all of them, outside our borrowed wagon, seeing to the last of our preparations. Laes and Abas Yar, who had brought along our Donkey Patches, were waiting for me. Khalam, however, was not present.

Zariyah had reapplied her mask of proud stoic indifference, showing a mastery of self-control that would have been impossible for me, given the situation. However, I knew it for what it was, simply a flimsy mask. It was the paper shield of the powerless and the only thing that protected her against the reality of her situation.

Elwin, with a knowing smirk, surveyed Zariyah from head to toe before offering a small wave. Kidu, ever reserved, spared her only a fleeting glance before returning to load Patches. Larynda just peeked out at the exotic woman. Her Whispermews also popped out from her clothes to take a gander.

However, Cordelia's reaction was the most startling. Initially surprised at first, her gaze on my new servant quickly shifted to one of disdain, resembling the look one gives upon discovering a stain on a pristine piece of clothing.

Once he noticed our presence, Laes stopped his conversation with Abas Yar and the caravan master’s eyes lit up in surprise and recognition, once he realized who I had brought in tow.

“If you will forgive me, Hera… Gilgamesh, why do you bring one of the Hazigadami?” Cordelia began in a forced voice, only to be cut off by Laes.

“Zariyah, why are you in the company of Master Gilgamesh? Perhaps, on an errand for Gelgor?” the horse-faced man asked her. He was worried, but he hid it well.

Zariyah shook her head and pointed a delicate finger to the roll of paper in my hand, her contract of service. Cordelia narrowed her eyes in reaction, the expression marring her otherwise beautiful features.

“I see, but under what circumstance… that Zlesh always boasted… I mean, Gelgor, was always proud of possessing… your err… service,” the man stumbled in response.

“Yes, Gelgor has decided that she will be traveling with us now. We needed a guide, and she will serve that function.”

“I see. On that note, I believe I have some advice for you as this is no doubt your first time to visit Al-Lazar” he offered.

I simply gave him a nod in return, eager to change the subject.

The man rubbed his chin before answering, “Like all cities, beware the rougher parts. I am sure Zairiyah knows more about that than I. You, and your companions, would do well to avoid the Dust dens. Many of them prey on foreigners who come to dream the Dust dreams, and you will pretty quickly find yourself with no coin, thrown out onto the street. Stay away from the Dust, it is a honeyed trap, a temporary escape, and nothing more,” for a moment the ugly man almost looked nostalgic. “But apart from the dangers of Dust, Al-Lazar has grown fat on its trade and there is much opportunity to be had. The little lady there,” he added, looking at Larynda, “would be most welcome at the Alchemist’s Guild. The mortar and pestle are safer, by far, than an adventurer’s bronze badge. However, my duty to Hamsa, to bring her to this city, is fulfilled. Her destiny is now in her own hands,” he suggested.

“A man as martially inclined as yourself will find easy opportunity within. Work on the walls as a guard for the council is well-paid and easy, so long as the people beneath the waves are quiet,” he continued, running a hand through oily strands that served as his hair. “However, there is greater opportunity for advancement and wealth by signing up with one of the Shareholder houses of the city. But, that would be difficult without an introduction from the Mercenary’s Guild,” the caravan master mused, unconsciously rolling his shoulders.

“Ah, there is also the upcoming competition, the Festival of the Undrawn, held around this time of the year. The prizes, and notice of the powerful, may well be worth the effort for you to participate, though you would be testing yourself against some of the strongest fighters in the land. Still, I think you would do quite well,” he added, sounding a little wistful.

“This is quite a lot to take in all at once, why did we not speak of this before?” I interjected a little sharply. I could feel my reserves of patience wearing thin already.

“Yes, as for that I had I had wished for…” began Laes, only to be interrupted by the red-haired woman.

“And why must we bring one of them with us?” bristled Cordelia with withering disdain, devoid now of her calm and looking quite irate.

Zariyah just took these unkind words in stride. Not even batting an eyelid, her features were as untrammeled as a calm lake. I had a feeling I could learn something from that.

Laes turned to Cordelia, and addressed her politely, if not a little tersely, “Lady de Aserac, would it not be best to trust in Gilgamesh’s judgment on this matter? Zariyah’s value is without question, to that I can attest. Knowing that her presence causes the lady offense, I would offer to buy her contract, if I knew doing so would not offend Master Gelgor,” he reproached adroitly.

“I think it best she joins us for the time being as we have no good knowledge of the city, do we?” I asked of my companions, and hearing no denial I continued with my reasoning, “I would not trade away this advantage at this initial juncture. Also, I do not believe it is just to judge someone by their appearance or race,” I added, the last comment the result of years of ingrained education.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I made a mental note to ask Cordelia why exactly she disliked Zariyah’s people. Unlike my world, there might be a very good reason for the existence of prejudices on this one.

“Her presence is fine by me. Easy on the eyes and she could be useful, so she gets my vote. Don’t see the harm in it either way,” commented Elwin, looking at my new servant appreciatively. There was a flash of disdain that crossed Zariyah’s eyes, but was soon smoothly hidden with consummate skill.

To this, the big man simply snorted in reply. The man had grown used to some of the Rogue’s more inane and annoying remarks.

Cordelia looked at the pair, and seeing no support there, instead looked to me with a plea in her eyes. “The Hazigadami are unclean… they are not worthy…” she half-begged.

It was time to take a few liberties, playing the part of the holy man. “Cordelia, you vowed to follow me in all things. Follow me in this. The Goddess wills this to be so… think of this as a test,” I implored, looking her directly in the eye.

She seemed to draw a measure of calm from my words, my command giving her zeal, new direction. She nodded to herself, taking my words in as if they were gospel. “A test… it is a test…” she whispered to herself in a voice filled with revelation.

Behind her, I could see Elwin rolling his eyes. The man was incorrigible.

Seeing that the matter was decided, Laes cleared his throat.

“To answer your earlier question, it was because, in all honesty, I had hoped that you would stay with us, but with the issue of Catalina, that is now dust in the wind. I would have still made the offer to you, but you and Khalam are like two Hauntworms in a pen,” he stated, giving out a long sigh. It was a sigh that had become frayed and weary over the years, more becoming of a long-married and unhappy wife than a leader of a trading caravan.

“I will let you in on something. Khalam thinks he hides it well, but everyone knows the man had a thing for Kalkassin’s wife, well, widow now. It did not sit well with him. And it would not have sat well with me to leave you without a word of advice before you venture forth the city. Knowledge is both a sword and shield. Pardon me for quoting an old saying, but the old words remain with us for a reason. It would serve you to arm yourself well, and you choose wisely in Zariyah. Gelgor’s gift is a gift well given. Perhaps one day you will tell me of his reasons,”

“Indeed, perhaps I will. But, I believe now is the time for us to part, Master Laes. It has not been the smoothest of journeys, but it has been an educational one. If we should meet again under more peaceful circumstances, then we will speak again.”

“As you say Master Gilgamesh, and with that I, too, bid you farewell,” finished the Caravan master with a low bow and a thin smile, showing just the right amount of deference. Time with these people had slowly taught me of their ways.

The Beastmaster Abas lingered for a while, watching Laes’ retreating shape.

"The caravan master is a difficult man, yet honorable in his own way. It's clear what gift you must have offered Gelgor to cause him to give up one of his prized treasures. Your grace deserves blessings, and may Her name be forever praised. It's comforting to know that salvation exists in this world. Meeting Her Herald has been my greatest honor. You will always be welcomed among us, for as long as the Ravens are guided by her light," the old man spoke with reverence, placing both palms on the back of his head.

This gesture, peculiar yet meaningful, signified both gratitude and a profound apology. Such are the intricacies of these unique and backward cultures.

After bidding me farewell, the old man followed after Laes, and I realized that there was something new about him. His back was straight, his stride longer and filled with pride. Abas Yar wore his newfound vigor like a badge of honor, and I silently wished him all the best in his journey ahead. My magic had done more than just heal his body, it had restored his faith in the Goddess. A false goddess. A being of great power that, nonetheless, I refused to accept as a divine being. However, people had a right to cling to whatever gave them hope and meaning in their little lives, misguided as they might be.

The sun continued to beat down on us, relentless in its efforts. As a group, we started to make our way toward the gates, waving at the caravan behind us. Looking at my team, I could see that it was Kidu, of all people, who showed the greatest strain. Sweat stained his clothes, and the small areas where his skin was exposed to the desert light were beginning to pink and redden.

Elwin and Larynda were behind me, the small girl leading Patches by the reins. The large donkey was smart and faithful and I doubted she needed to be led, anyway. The pair of them were talking of things of little consequence, mostly trifling conversation of their respective homes’ plants and animals.

The two ladies walked together. Though Cordelia wore her beatific smile and Zariyah her stone mask, it did little to hide the thick current of tension between them. Zariyah’s presence was as much a test of tolerance for Cordelia as Cordelia’s presence was for her. I imagined that, had my new attendant been able to speak, they would have been spitting lightning at each other.

Throughout this sweltering ordeal, Kidu remained, as ever, an immovable mountain of dour silence, a steadfast rock in a river of emotional current.

Arriving at the gates, I paused to appreciate their grandeur. Crafted from a natural rock formation, the gatehouse stood imposingly, with no visible bricks or mortar in most of its structure. Massive doors made of bronze were swung ajar, allowing the traffic in and out of the city. What was the most curious, however, was that many seabirds had made this place their home. Their nests were scattered about at the higher levels and their squawks and cries could be heard clearly, above even the noise coming from the city. Curiosity piqued, I decided to use Identify and turned to Zariyah.

“Tell me of that,” I asked, pointing at the gates of the city, before I remembered my manners and added, “Please.”

The Feathered Gate? What do you wish to know?

“Tell me of their construction, as much as you know, anyway,” I clarified.

She pursed her lips and thought before her hands delicately wove their answer. I noticed that her attitude had much improved.

They were carved out of the Guidance Rock. A symbolic gesture, as it was the birds that had guided the founders of the city here. Over the long years, as Al-Lazar’s conflict with the people of the sea continued, the Guidance Rock was then incorporated into the defenses of the city. Despite being a part of the fortifications, it is still the foremost place of welcome where new entrants are greeted into the city before they pass under the arches. The doors of the Feathered Gates are of Dwarven make, steel coated with spelled bronze. Made by the dwarf Zarhit the Dreamer, they say that it takes only the strength of a single man to open them. Not only that, it is said, but he was the first of the mountain people to have partaken of the Dust dreams.

For the first time, I saw her give a genuine smile. She looked to be happy in telling us of her home. However, the moment was soon ruined by Cordelia.

“Do not trust too easily the lies of a Hazigadami,” interrupted Cordelia softly, the trace of a rueful smile at the corner of her lips. “Yes, Hazagadami, I too know the language of the unspoken words. The gates were made by the Quassians under contract and there was no magic used in their construction. Men made those gates, or so history would tell you. I wonder at this one’s usefulness, even as a guide,” she added smoothly.

A few cracks appeared on Zariyah’s stoic mask, but for the most part, it held, and she kept her temper and offered Cordelia no rebuttal. Admirable discipline.

I simply shrugged, as it was only a minor curiosity. History, after all, had a way of changing over the long years as memories grew dim and dull. The patina of time had a habit of covering most of the salient details.