They were waiting longer than Jasper expected. Tsia guarded Nēs̆u as the warrior meditated, leaving Jasper free to wander around their surroundings. There wasn’t much open space in the cramped city; where most settlements would have strategically placed a marketplace next to the city gates, here there was nothing but a very small plaza from which half a dozen roads branched out toward the east.

The buildings towered above him here, large, blocky buildings whose unnaturally smooth gray walls spoke of magical construction. Their ugly, unadorned exteriors also spoke of a complete lack of creative vision, with a style aesthetic - if it could even be called that - that was vaguely reminiscent of Soviet Russian brutalism if their buildings had been topped with thatched roofs.

Though there was no marketplace, stalls had been squeezed up and down the lengths of the crowded streets. He idled through the stalls, ignoring the persistent overture of their vendors. Most of it was food, strangely enough, and pre-cooked food at that. Large pots of constantly boiling stew, loaves of bread, piles of dried meat - most of it wasn’t very appealing, but as Jasper watched the crowd he realized the food vendors were doing a surprisingly brisk business. Maybe they don’t have kitchens in their homes?

His wanderings were interrupted as Ihra called out to him. “Come on,” she jerked her head back towards the rest. “Nēs̆u found something.”

The warrior and Tsia were already halfway out of the small square by the time Jasper caught up with them. Swinging up onto Dapplegrim’s back, he urged her into a canter, attaching himself to the end of his group. “What’s the rush?”

Nēs̆u grunted. “Found someone who knows what happened to the soldiers. Tavern on the far side of the city. Got to get to them before they leave.”

Jasper tried not to roll his eyes at the laconic response - I know he can carry on a normal conversation - and, in a fit of pettiness, opted to merely nod his head in thanks. Their progress through the crowded streets was slow. In the capital, the people, as soon as they caught sight of his clothes, parted like the waves at Moshe’s feet. Here, the royal clothes earned him nothing but indifference or, on rare occasions, hostility.

Eventually, fed up with the crowd, Nēs̆u simply spurred his horse into a trot. As it turned out, the crowd, when given the choice between stepping aside or being trampled, chose the former and their progress finally sped up to something above a crawl. Still, by the time they reached the tavern, Vāya had shown Nēs̆u, more than an hour had passed.

“Hope they’re still here,” the man muttered, as he dropped off his horse. Taking a few seconds to tie up their mounts to one of a mere handful of hitching posts the tavern offered, the four of them hurried toward the tavern, while Annatta stayed behind to watch their horses - the city didn’t exactly strike Jasper as a bastion of law and justice.

Like most of the city, the tavern occupied a part of one of the many depressing cell blocks that lined the streets. A half-dozen stories rose above it, no doubt filled to the brim with apartments, and from the looks of the tavern, it seemed as if every one of their residents had decided to visit the tavern at the same time. The place was bustling like Times Square on New Year’s Eve, with the crowd spilling out onto the street.

The scene was one of unabashed debauchery, with most of the crowd so deep in their cups that Jasper was surprised they could walk.. Barmaids in Minoan dresses wandered through the crowds, refilling the cups and they were amongst the most modest of the groups - many of the revelers had long since shed the bulk of their clothes. On its own, that might not have been so bad if many of the drunks weren’t also engaged in the sort of activities that tend to accompany nakedness. Jasper barely glanced over the crowd for a second, before he glanced away, his eyes already scarred by the sight of more old men’s balls than he had ever hoped to see in a lifetime. And for the record, that’s zero. Well, two, if you count your own.

Nēs̆u ground to a halt, his head swiveling back and forth through the crowd uncertainly as the others came to stand beside him.

“See ‘em,” Ihra asked, peering curiously over his shoulder.

The man hesitated, his cheeks blazing like a boiled lobster, much to Jasper’s amusement. I would not have pegged the man for a prude.

Nēs̆u shook his head. “No. I wasn’t expecting there to be…so many,” he finished awkwardly. “Tsia, maybe you should go back to the horses,” he continued awkwardly.

His ward ignored him, surveying the crowd with considerably more interest than Jasper would have expected. Maybe I’m a prude too.

Feeling desperate to resolve the situation, Jasper sprung in. “Why don’t you tell us whom you’re looking for, Nēs̆u? Given the general state of the crowd, it seems like a reasonable guess they’re still here.”

Jerking his eyes away from the crowd, the warrior scratched his ear thoughtfully. “Vāya showed me the faces of several people who could help us, but she impressed one in particular on me. But why on earth would they be here…” the man trailed off, not finishing his description.

Jasper tried not to roll his eyes. “Details, man. What do they look like? Man, woman, young, old, proud owner of illustrious assets?”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“A young child,” the man finally offered. “Not sure if it was a boy or girl. The poor thing was too young, too malnourished for me to tell. Had grey skin like most of them, but dirty blonde hair that suggests they’ve got a touch of something else in them.”

“That’s it?” Ihra screwed up her face. “Not much to go on.”

“If you’d like a more detailed description, you’re free to ask Vāya yourself,” Nēs̆u growled.

Jasper reluctantly scanned the crowd again. Nēs̆u was right; it was definitely not a place one expected to find a child. Or at least it shouldn’t be. “Must be one of the staff. We should head aside.”

The others nodded in agreement and, with Nēs̆u leading the way, started to worm their way through the sea of drunken sots that barred their path to the entrance. But when they were only halfway there, Ihra let out a little half-gasp.

“There!” Grabbing Jasper's arm, she yanked his attention to where she was pointing.

On the edges of the crowd, a young child with grey skin and an unkempt mane of dirty yellow hair was struggling to help a very drunk man stumble down the street. Leaving him to grab the others’ attention, she darted back in the direction they came, slipping through the revelers like a greased-up pig.

----------------------------------------

Ihra was not enjoying her trip to Dūr-Ēkal thus far. It had started out rather interesting. The city was quite different from what she’d seen before. A city clearly built on the backs of stone mages, the sheer regularity of the giant blocky buildings was a fascinating departure from what she was used to. But it had all taken a rather nasty turn when Nēs̆u lead them to the tavern.

Tavern. Please. She knew what she was looking at all right. It was a brothel, plain and simple and not one of the relatively "nice" ones, but the sort you end up at shortly before an early grave. If not for the intervention of her parents’ old friend, a place just like this might have been her future. She watched her partners closely as they took in the crowd, each one having a different reaction, just another subtle reminder that she wasn’t like them.

Tsia, rather predictably, was more titillated than scandalized. The pampered princess probably had never seen anything like the place. The drunken revelry might look like fun, but she had no real comprehension of the dark toll a place like this took.

Nēs̆u’s cheeks were ripe with embarrassment. A less skilled observer might have mistaken him for being a prude, but Ihra recognized his embarrassment for what it was - regret. He’s been to places like this many times before, but he feels bad about it now. I wonder why.

And then there was Jasper. His red skin might hide the telltale signs of a blush, but it did nothing to obscure his obvious discomfort. He mostly kept his eyes averted although she noted, with some amusement, that when he thought no one was looking, he kept sneaking a peak. Ihra had no real feel for her friend’s background; his world was simply too hard for her to understand. She didn’t think he’d had a pampered upbringing like Tsia - he had been surprisingly quick to adapt to the brutality of combat - but there were times, like this, when he showed an almost baffling innocence. Maybe he’s just a prude, she decided.

When Jasper suggested the child they were looking for might be part of the staff, the others had accepted his proposition readily enough, heading for the tavern. Ihra had followed along too, but she kept her eyes scanning the crowd. She’d eat her sword if that child was actually part of the staff. Probably an unwanted bastard of one of the prostitutes.

Her intuition paid off when she spied a pin-prick of blonde in the sea of black heads. Grabbing Jasper’s arm, she pointed the target out, and then she was off.

Without the others to slow her down, her progress through the crowd was much faster. Small and lithe, all she needed was a small gap and she could wriggle her way through. The young child, burdened down by the drunken sot it was supporting, had managed to get no further than halfway down the street before she caught up.

“Wait,” she called out. “I want to speak with you.”

Startled, the child turned its head. Its eyes were wide with the sort of fear that was all too dearly earned, and its body trembled beneath the weight of the adult it was struggling to hold up. Ihra could practically see the gears in the child’s head turning as it decided whether to see what the stranger wanted or abandon its customer and bolt. Like Nēs̆u had said, it was impossible to tell whether the child was a boy or girl, but if she had to guess she’d say it was a boy.

Ihra slid to a stop, showing her hands slowly - revealing she held no weapons - and angled her head to the side, letting the child catch a glimpse of her antlers.

“I mean you no harm.”

The boy hesitated, curiosity waging a war with fear, and Ihra gently slipped a coin out of her purse, holding it up in the light. “I just want to talk.”

Greed won out.

“‘Bout what?” the child asked, still struggling to hold up the drunkard.

She stepped closer, moving slowly lest the child bolt. “Why don’t I help you first, and then we can talk? What are you doing with this man?”

The child shifted the weight uncomfortably. “Old man Elias paid me to carry him home,” he explained.

“And where is that?”

“Up on floor six.”

Ihra surpassed her sigh. Of course, the drunken lout lives at the top of the building. She finally closed the distance between the child, and with a heave, hoisted the man on her shoulders, grunting at the weight. Why are these Djinn so damn heavy?

“Alright-“

Her words were cut off as Jasper and the others finally caught up to her.

The child’s eyes widened again, as the boy turned to run.

“Wait,” lurching like a drunken sailor beneath the weight of the Djinn, she somehow managed to grasp hold of the boy’s wrist. The child turned on her like a banshee gone mad, screaming and biting, but she held on. “Wait, please. They’re just my friends. We mean you no harm,” she pled. “I’ll give you another coin.”

The fighting stopped as a pair of suspicious eyes rose to meet her, still swallowed up by fear. “Really?”

Ihra smiled, shifting the weight of the Djinn on her shoulder again. “Really,” she promised. “Why I don’t deliver old man Elias to his room, and then we’ll get something to eat. We just want to ask you a few questions. Okay?”

After another moment’s hesitation, the child finally nodded. “Okay.”

Great. Now I just need to carry this drunken lout up six flights of stairs. Yay.