Despite Tsia’s lighthearted words, their run-in with the bandits put a pall over the rest of their trip to Kibrāti. Nēs̆u was already a bit overprotective of her, but after she was nearly beheaded by a trap - and was shot by an arrow - his watchfulness was downright suffocating.

Abandoning the road, they cut through the woods parallel to it, traveling quietly and quickly.Nēs̆u was hardly the talkative type, but Tsia had never cared about that, more than happy to carry the conversation entirely on her own.Now, though, her silent guardian insisted that she too hold her peace, as the stoic warrior kept a constant ear cocked for even the slightest hint of danger.

Annoyed, she found herself fantasizing about sneaking out of the camp at night and heading for Kibrāti by herself, but Tsia wasn’t quite that foolish. Despite her irritation with her guardian, she knew that traveling by herself would be a very bad idea.

So, she put up with it, suffering through a quiet few days until finally - thank the stars - the thick pine forest began to thin out. The trees shrunk as new growth replaced the primordial forests before they, in turn, gave way to the open fields that encircled the port city of Kibrāti. The land here was surprisingly marshy; dozens of small streams, swollen with the icy runoff of the mountains, webbed their way across the fertile fields, before plunging off the plateau into the lake far below.

The elevation had perpetually risen as they approached the city, the cliffs that overlooked the great lake towering further and further above the waters to a nearly dizzying height. Now, the merchant fleets below looked like ants, and beside them, far below the bluffs sprawled one portion of the city. Along most of the northern side of the lake, there was no shore, merely the cliffs rising out of the water, but here at Kibrāti, a good-sized promontory jutted out from the side of the cliffs. So densely crowded that the quarter’s roofs blended together as if the buildings were one single mass, all three sides of the promontory were crowded with ships, their masts forming a makeshift forest around the port.

The back side of the city was set against the cliffs whose face was obscured by rows of giant elevators, operated by a system of enchanted pulleys and gears, that ferried the incoming merchants to the waiting markets of the upper city. It was an impressive sight, but Tsia barely noticed it, her attention wholly transfixed on the steady trickle of small black objects flitting through the air above the lake. The tsussîm.

Despite the city’s bustling trade, when they reached the city gates, there were relatively few waiting to enter, all trade focused through the lake. The guards called for them to stop, but as soon as their eyes fell on Tsia and Nēs̆u’s sumptuously equipped mounts, the grey-dappled horses that had been the pride of her father’s stables, the Djinn waved them through without any further questions. Wealth has its perks, Tsia had to admit herself.

From there, it was an easy enough matter to find their way to their destination. Though neither had ever been to Kibrāti before, it was impossible to miss the tsussîm rising above the rooftops from one particular corner of the city. As they wound their way through the bustling streets, her heart beat fast with excitement, mixed with a touch of pain.

Tsia had loved the flying horses from the moment she had first heard; still, she had never expected to have one of her own. The tsussîm had become quite rare in the empire as there were only two steady sources of the beasts: the Djinn, who rarely felt the need to trade, even with the Sapiyans, and the southern provinces in the Canton of Sicya, who had long since fallen under the control of the Zalancthians. She had been content, thus, to only read of them in books, never expecting to have one of her own, until her father had promised her one as her debutante gift.

In truth, Tsia had never even expected to be thrown a debutante ball. The queen and her sibilings, save for Abilāni, treated her as an embarrassment, and most of the court followed their lead. So when she had learned that not only would she receive her ball, but that her father had arranged such a wonderful gift for her, Tsia practically floated on clouds for months after that.

It wasn’t just about the recognition, either; the gift itself was immensely meaningful.Wind magic was uncommon amongst her people - neither her father nor her mother had even a shred of talent in that direction - so Tsia’s connection with the wind had been unexpected.She really had very little idea what to expect from her future classes, and while she suspected that her mother had some idea of what long-forgotten heritage had resurfaced in her, Aphora had refused to ever tell her.

Some things are best left forgotten, her mother had told her whenever she’d begged for information. Still, Tsia might not have had all the information she could have desired, but she felt confident of one thing: having a flying mount would be a marvelous boon to her and would most likely even enhance the class options offered to her once she leveled up.

Thus, Tsia could barely contain her excitement as the date of her debutante ball approached, but when the day came, no tsussîm awaited her. King Kabāni could barely look her in the eyes as he fastened the glittering pendant around her neck, the meaningless bauble given in place of the promised gift. But Tsia didn’t miss the queen’s triumphant smirk, the tell-tale titter of her elder sister, as she stood before her father. She barely remembered the rest of the night. Oh, she had smiled and laughed and mingled with the guests, done all the things expected of her so perfectly that even the queen couldn’t find fault, but everything had seemed so hollow.

It was only later that she learned the truth. Her father had indeed arranged a tsussîm for her, until his wife had thrown a fit, demanding the horse be given to her eldest daughter instead. Her father had tried to make amends later, even giving her the horse she now rode, but that had been the day Tsia finally realized that her father’s courts would never be her home.

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“Are you alright, my lady?” Nēs̆u stared at her knowingly, and Tsia blinked back a few unexpected tears which threatened to breach their dams.

“Of course, Nēs̆u. Why wouldn’t I be?” She flashed him a crooked smile. “I’m finally going to ride a tsussîm!”

The stables, once they found them, were quite unlike any she had ever seen. The flying beasts, though they resembled horses, were native to mountain environments, mostly relying on their wings, rather than their legs to get around. Though tamed, the tsussîm still chafed in confinement, so the stables’ pastures had been built to accommodate their needs. Much larger than most pastures, the fields were dotted with man-made piles of rock, on whose summits the creatures slept when their services were not needed.

She found it strange that their pastures were bounded by fences - surely the tsussîm could just fly away? But rushed forward eagerly, crowding close against the fence to get a closer look.

“Ahem.” She turned reluctantly to face the source of the sound. A city guard, clad in thick leather armor painted with the rather bright pink and green colors of the town, nodded his head respectfully. “I’m sorry my lady, but I have to ask you to step away from the fence.”

“Don’t worry - I’m not going to cross it,” she promised, but the guard shook his head. “It’s not that, my lady. The tsussîm get nervous around large crowds of people, so we have to ask that people not gather near the fences.” He jerked his head to the right. “Now, if you have business with Kallāt-S̆ams̆ah stables, just head down the road and ask to speak with one of the stewards.” He hesitated a moment, glancing surreptitiously at her horse, before continuing. “You might want to ask to speak to Steward Nekelmû. He’ll treat you right.”

A frown flitted across her lips as the rather negative meaning of the steward’s name registered. “Nekelmû? The ‘malevolent glare?’” She asked uncertainly, not wanting to be rude, but put off by the name. This was the man that would treat her right?

The guard grasped her meaning immediately. “Ah, his parents cursed him with a rather long name - Ilzâq-nekelmû-umī - and you know how kids are. The name just stuck, but really, he’s a very nice man and he’s well-used to dealing with nobles like yourself.”

Thanking him, the two turned away from the pastures, Tsia shooting one last longing look behind her, and headed toward a cluster of buildings from whose sides swung the telltale sign of a horseshoe.

They followed the guard’s advice and asked for the services of Steward Nekelmû who, after a short wait, ushered them into his office. For a man named after the evil eye, Tsia had to admit the young Djinn was quite the handsome devil. Though his skin lacked even the slightest sign of the reddish hue that would signify he had advanced high in levels, his long back horns were striated with streaks of silver and gold that glittered in the sunlight in an almost mesmerizing fashion, clearly the result of some unlocked racial trait. He helped her into a chair before taking his place behind his desk. His dark, cobalt eyes sparked with keen interest as he leaned forward. His charisma must be off the charts, she thought.

“It’s a strange sight indeed to see two foreigners, accompanied by no Djinn, traveling in the lands. There must be a story there,” he prodded.

Tsia glanced uncertainly at Nēs̆u, who subtly shook his head. “I’m just interested in renting some tsussîm to make the trip to the capital. We do have two horses, however, that must make the journey as well. Safely.” she emphasized.

A flicker of disappointment flit across his face, but Nekelmû nodded professionally. “Very well, I’m sure we can accommodate you. Although…” He drummed his fingers against the desk, looking off into the corner for a moment, before turning back to her face. The glint of his horns dimmed as the sun fled behind a cloud. “Let me be honest with you, my lady. My attendants already notified me about your horses, and as soon as I saw them, I recognized their breed. I will not ask where you got your hands on genuine Stryn destriers, but those mounts are worth a fortune around here.”

“Most of our merchants are honest enough, but you must understand that those mounts would likely be worth as much as the rest of their cargo combined and, well," he shrugged eloquently, "you are foreigners. You have no faction, no clan, that will intervene if someone steals from you. The city guards will not help you as the crime will have happened outside its borders, and while the royal guards might help, there are many more important matters demanding their attention. To be blunt, if you send your horses to the capital alone, and fly separately on our tsussîm, I cannot in good faith promise that you will ever see your mounts again.”

Tsia’s heart sank. Did I come this far only to be denied? “Surely, there are some honest merchants,” she protested.

The Djinn nodded. “Many, but if you do not intend to accompany your mounts, you will need to find not one honest man, but an entire crew of them. Personally, I recommend you simply charter a boat to S̆addānu. You could not have entered our mountains without some sort of sponsor, so perhaps, once you have joined them, you could leave your horses with them and charter a flight with us.” He pushed some papers toward her. “These are the names of some of the merchants our stable uses; you should be safe enough with them.”

Nēs̆u watched as his charge wilted, sadly filing the papers away in her satchel. “Are there any other options,” he suddenly blurted out.

The Djinn was surprised when her servant spoke but, after a long glance at Tsia, finally nodded. “There is one other way, but I warn you - it’s very expensive.”

Hope begin to shine again in Tsia’s eyes. “What is it?”

“Our company mostly carries small items or passengers, but occasionally we need to transfer large, high-value items that we don’t wish to entrust to others. For that, we have a very special bag of holding that can preserve even living beings. However, the bag must be recharged every time it is used, so you’ll understand that it’s quite expensive.”

“How much?” Tsia asked. Her eyes bulged as she saw the price. 8,000 gold coins. Technically, she had the funds to pay for it, but she knew it was a bad idea. It wasn’t like she was getting an allowance from her father any longer. Reluctantly, she pushed the contract back to him. “Any chance you’d accept the services of a mage as payment?” she asked, throwing one final gambit out there.

The Djinn shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lady, but we have little use for fire or lunar mages in our business.”

“What about wind?”

He paused, glancing back at her with renewed interest. “I’ll need to see a demonstration of your skills, of course, but we might be able to come to an agreement.”

Tsia could barely contain the squeal of joy that surged through her, but constrained herself to a simple, professional nod. “Of course,” she agreed. “I’m sure you’ll be happy with what you see.”