Susmunshta is an oasis settlement built around a most peculiar lake. It is significant that this is not a metaphorical statement. The settlement surrounds and, in fact, fully encloses the lake of the same name within its walls. This is a most unusual circumstance, especially as the settlement is quite small, holding only perhaps some seven hundred lives. The walls encompass a ring no more than three kilometers in circumference, small enough that one can walk a full circuit of the ramparts in an hour. The lake fills roughly half of the interior space, perhaps fifty hectares in total, easily looked across.

Normally such a settlement would be impossible. The steppe features numerous small lakes of similar size, formed mostly in shallow depressions of the land. These usually are no greater in depth than a man's chest, to the point that many can be walked across despite stretching over considerable distance of grassland. These tend to be much overgrown by reeds, and, more importantly, subject to vast changes in extent as the seasons change. A town built so close to these lakes would be inundated by flooding almost every spring.

That does not happen in Susmunshta. The lake level is almost completely invariant, regardless of the absence of rain or the fall of snow. Fed by some unseen source deep beneath the earth, it fills a broadly conical space that is remarkable in its depth. Line soundings suggest a depth of some fifty meters, and no diver has ever managed to touch the bottom despite hundreds of attempts. This too is strange, for water generally spreads evenly across the steppe, sucked in by thirsty soils. Any examination of the irrigation canals of the Nikkad and the efforts necessary to prevent water escaping their bounds and remain in the service of their crops makes this clear.

In order for the lake to exist there must be some sort of barrier, one hidden below the ground. In the grasslands surrounding the oasis there are outcrops of bare stone, a curious pinkish shade much filled with grubby quartz crystals. It seems there must be some great mass of this stone, a mountain of rock, buried beneath the soil here. The lake represents a crack in that form, one where water has seeped within. Certainly any attempt to dig into the soil surrounding the town swiftly slams into very hard stone, something almost unknown elsewhere in Shdustu.

Possible explanations for this phenomenon abound. They range from the simple: that the lake was formed by a series of great earthquakes that cracked the subterranean mountain; to the fantastical: that a great scorpion attempted to dig a passage to Ukit's realm at this point only to have Tippipaku drown the beast and fill the hole with her tears that none should fall into the Lord of Death's grasp before their time. While the earthquake explanation seems sensible to me, such shifts of the land are very rare in Shdustu, and the lake is strange in manners beyond simply its shape. It holds bizarre fish and frogs living beneath its surface. These resemble nothing observed anywhere else. The Lady Indili illustrated these bones with furious vigor even as I struggled to recall any scholarship mentioning such strange animals. Of especial notice was a broad-bodied red-shaded salamander that lived deep in the lake, hunting among the crevices of the rocky bottom. This was, so far as I could determine, the only salamander found anywhere in Shdustu at all. Though no longer than one's hand even in the largest specimens, it is the source of both a unique dye and an equally special toxin derived from boiling the skin. A single alchemist resides in the oasis, secretly processing one hundred or so of these creatures each year. This is the maximum harvest the lake can sustain and no other person is permitted to kill these animals on pain of death. The unique red dye is used in the production of the identity emblems carried by alchemists, healers, and sorcerers. The poison, though rumored to be extremely potent, does not cause death, but its precise effect is kept hidden, known only to master alchemists. Rumor suggests it is used to induce a sort of trance state for interrogation, a form of the legendary truth serum long sought out by alchemists and apothecaries across the world.

Unlike many lakes in Shdustu, the waters of Susmunshta are not brackish, but they have a strange taste and if boiled slowly leave behind an unusual grayish residue at the bottom of the pot. This water serves the growth of crops quite well, but the local people avoid drinking it much, and source their own water from nearby streams instead.

The town itself forms a ring around the lakeshore, with compact squared-off Nikkad houses arranged near to each other and drawing up the water through canals to make their gardens flourish. In winter, of course, the city is largely sealed up. Doors are concealed behind thick curtains while women work inside spinning and weaving in the dim light as men clad in thick robes conduct maintenance of the walls, buildings, and canals. They also perform metalwork, leatherwork, and other essential crafts to make ready for the business of the coming spring. Children run about, playing in the cold during the day, but they too vanish indoors at night. Color is leached away from the city by the season, with everything brown and gray. Only the temple remains a bastion of light, draped in brightly dyed hangings and gilded murals. Grimy clusters of snow cling to shadows and crevices, ice slicks the walls. The overall mood is one of frigid misery. Even the elders who control the town on behalf of the prince of Inukudish offered little welcome to visitors. After a perfunctory greeting they chose to retreat to the relative warmth of their homes almost immediately, and made little effort to interact with us thereafter.

Some activity was found in the livestock pens, of course, and the lowing of oxen serenaded the town often during those wintry days. By contrast to the larger cities or more prosperous towns further south, there were few scorpions kept here, and none of the mystical giant forms. Prosperous farmers kept a handful of the creatures in sand-filled jars sitting beside the stoves in their homes, and the temple possessed a sizable enclosure where a mass of the creatures were sustained on chopped up vermin, but they did not roam the streets. More familiar cats and dogs were common instead, which made the town feel closer to home. It would seem that the impact of cold enforces a certain level of similarity across all barriers of distance.

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Here, in central Shdustu, the impact of the cold occupies a middle position. Unlike those further south, who are able to take advantage of somewhat longer warmth months and grow great quantities of fruit which are eaten both fresh and preserved as a significant portion of the diet, or those further north where the growing season is sufficiently short that neither fruit trees nor grape vines can survive, this region is more mixed. There are some fruit trees here, mostly stubby shrub like growths, as well as hardy berry bushes and a variety of garden vegetables, and these are generally either dried or pickled to add to meals, but grain predominates. Wheat, which is favored over barley grown further north, is the primary crop, and flatbreads dominate the diet and feature in nearly every meal. Linen is also predominant over cotton in clothing here, for flax tolerates the cold better than cotton. Though, in truth, during the winter the Nikkad residents of these latitudes were primarily given to woolen garments obtained through trade with the Kharal. The oasis was notable for its local production of honey, something easily produced given the continual turnover of flowers throughout the growing season with the presence of the lake and variable grasslands nearby. Hives are housed in specially built shelters to protect them from the winter cold. Honey is much valued in trade, for use in both food and medicine. The lake itself served as a source of fish and frogs, though given the small size, the overall output was very modest and strict quotas existed to prevent the loss of all fish from within.

It happened that the Tenth Year of Enduring Peace came to an end while I was visiting Susmunshta. Therefore I observed the solstice vigil and new year's celebration in the temple of this small and tightly connected community. The temple occupies a large portion of the southern circle of the town, as is common placement in Nikkad settlements. However, rather than the ranked seating positions based on prestige or wealth common within the Sanid Empire, where the poor are often expected to stand outside in the overflow spaces in the dark and cold, the Nikkad accommodate the long chill night by periodically shuffling adults back and forth from warm interior to cold exterior, with only young children and vulnerable elders remaining inside for the whole night.

As is common, the ceremony begins at sundown, as Ukit rises to claim the end of the year that has passed, and all residents assemble on the temple grounds. Only the priest stands in the triangular nave belonging to the Lord of Death, for none must enter that terrible sacred space during the hour of endings lest they draw the gaze of the Divine. The priest wears the faceless white mask in exactly the same manner as done in the Core Provinces. The only difference is that the Nikkad mask is bleached clay rather than white wood as used among the Sairn. The Kharal, I later learned, utilize treated leather. At this time the sacred scorpions are let loose to prowl the nave of the Lord of Death. They scuttle back and forth throughout the night, carefully following bait trails laid across the paving to ensure they keep to prescribed paths.

As the reader no doubt expects, the ceremony progresses throughout the entirety of the longest night, ending only when the dominion of Lord of Sky is restored at dawn. The sunset, midnight, and dawn prayers are given, in accordance with the Enlightened Revelation, as is proper. Some minor variations existed, though I believe most were artifacts of translation, and these are acceptable and devoid of any substantial heresy. The pre-dawn prayer the Nikkad append to the service honoring scorpions as divine messengers is significantly less acceptable, as no such role exists for any animal in the cycle of Divine exchange, but the Nikkad have managed to work it nearly seamlessly into the service. Thankfully no offense was taken when I and the other members of the Dragon Expedition remained silent through this prayer, an act of tolerance I had feared would not be extended.

Unlike in the Sanid Empire, where the solstice vigil is conducted through steady call-and-response chants and extended readings of selected passages from the Enlightened Revelation, the Nikkad ceremony is very different outside of the nearly universal prayers. It is kept almost entirely silent. Instead of readers, there are dancers, who conduct a series of slow, patterned, progressive movements before each nave of the Divines. Each symbolic dance is emblematic of a land or life mentioned in the revelation, and in this way corresponds to the passages read in Sairn communities, however strange it feels to hold one's tongue for many hours in the cold. The faith of the Nikkad, while somewhat skewed and due for a proper corrective to bring it into alignment with modern theological scholarship, is not an embarrassment or insult. They are truly a people who know the revelation of the Divines, and that is more than can be said of many.

Most members of the community, save for those children too young to learn the poses and those elders too infirm to sustain them, participate at least briefly in one of these dances. Two were performed each hour, with brief breaks. Musicians accompany this effort using soft drums, cymbals, and bells, giving the sonic environment a metallic, chiming feature. This is a deep contrast to the favored music of the Kharal, which favors heavy skin drums and string instruments. I did notice some variation in the later performances, shifting the emphasis to emphasize the local landscape and animals, but this is quite reasonable. The Enlightened Revelation encompasses all lands and life, the whole of the world not merely part of it. That a community should emphasize their personal relationship with the Divines is only normal.

After the long and frigid night ends, bonfires are lit when dawn comes and there is a great feast to celebrate the new year. That much is very familiar, though in Susmunshta, the centerpiece of this meal is spiced fish, which I believe is a unique course in celebratory tables throughout Shdustu.