Standing up, Qarda led them across the courtyard to a small, paved pavilion. A large table stretched out beneath the white linen tent, on which sat a small silver bell. She rang the bell and, after a few moments, a servant came running over. Breathlessly, the maid bowed before Qarda, brushing away a few errant strands of hair that escaped her bun. “Yes, my lady?”

“Fetch Captain Labbu,” the Djinn commanded. As the maid hurried off, Qarda turned back to them. “We’ll figure out a way to help you, but it will be...tricky. The Moon-kissed hold a decent amount of sway in the north, but ultimately this is Zaphonite territory. I’m sure the lady of my house would be willing to risk much to get her hands on a relic of Damqa, but only if we can do it quietly. Open conflict with Lord Nabul must be avoided if at all possible.”

The pale Djinn looked past them, her wrinkled brow melting into a radiant smile as she rose to greet the newcomer. “Sir Labbu.” She held out her hand, and he kissed it gently, lingering a bit longer than was generally considered proper.

“What’s the problem, Qarda?” He looked at Jasper and Ihra, his eyes widening when he saw the horns on Ihra’s head. He swiftly bowed. “Madame elf, it is an honor to meet you.”

Qarda cut in, speaking softly. “These, Labbu, are the two who brought the you-know-what to us.”

He paled, immediately jumping to the same conclusion Qarda had. “You’re not thinking of backing out on the deal. I’m sure we can work something out.” There was a slight aggressiveness to his tone, the faintest hint that more than mere words might be used to persuade them.

But Qarda laid her hand on his, pulling him back. “No, the problem is Lord Nabul.”

Labbu’s confusion lasted only a second, understanding dawning in his eyes almost instantly. “And he wants an elf in his House. Such an honor would immediately elevate his position amongst his clan.” The captain turned to Jasper. “Surely your patron can help you? We have a diviner who can send a message to whomever you need.”

Jasper shook his head. “My patron is associated with the Zaphonites, but she is currently far from our mountains, headed towards the land beyond the river. I doubt she can do much from there.”

“A patron beyond the mountains?” Labbu’s gaze sharpened. “Do you mean the Silver Lady? Are you her son?”

Jasper’s lips quirked at the strange assumption. Apparently, Aphora had quite the reputation among the Djinn. If he ever saw her again, he’d really have to ask her about that. “Yes to the first, no to the second.” He waved at Ihra. “Aphora used her connections to allow Ihra to pass beyond Dūr-S̆innu, but unfortunately, she’s in no real position to help us right now. Is there anything you can do?”

The captain nodded. “Give me a moment to talk with Qarda. I’m sure we can come up with a solution. Did Nabul give you a date for his ultimatum?”

Ihra was the one to respond. “He said I could think about it until after the auction.”

Relief spread across the two Djinn’s faces. “Excellent, that gives us two more days to plan,” Qarda exclaimed. She tapped her nose thoughtfully. “The attack on the street the other day - was Lord Nabul behind it?”

The captain’s expression darkened, as he turned to the Moon-kissed maiden. “What attack? Were you hurt? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She brushed him off. “Shh! That’s not important right now. Obviously, I'm fine.” She turned back to Jasper and Ihra. “Do you think Nabul might have been trying to kidnap Ihra?”

Jasper shook his head. “No, Nabul learned about Ihra through the priest of Yarha, who we hadn’t even met then.” He smiled. “Actually, none of this would have happened if it weren't for you. If you hadn’t insisted we move the lyre to a more secure location, we wouldn't have visited the temple district or even met Lord Nabul.”

Qarda frowned, her back stiffening. “I hardly think that’s my fault. So you’re sure it wasn’t him?”

He hesitated. “100% positive? No, but we did a little investigating of our own, after a second incident occurred, and it seems the Cult of Nahremah, or at least a sub-group within the cult, is wrapped up in it. So, I’m pretty sure Lord Nabul is innocent of this, at least.”

She arched an eyebrow. “My, my - aren’t you popular. Just a few days in the city, and you’re already making all sorts of new friends.”

Jasper shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

Qarda sighed. “It’s most unfortunate Lord Nabul wasn’t behind the attack…that would make our task so much easier.” A sly grin spread across her face. “Of course, what people think happened is usually more important than what actually happened. There’s a saying amongst the Moon-kissed, ‘Perception is truth.’”

She plopped back into her chair, gesturing at the two of them. “You might as well have a seat - this could take a while.”

The hours slipped by quickly as the four devised their plan. Lord Nabul had a reputation for using “unaffiliated” ruffians to take care of problems. As long as he did things quietly, the Zaphonites were more than happy to overlook his actions. But if he was seen to be attacking upstanding citizens publicly? Well, he’d be placed in a difficult position.

As the sun begin to slip beneath the horizon, the two finally left the Moon-kissed’s estate. Jasper's hopes of a peaceful night in the tavern were once again dashed as they entered the great hall. A ruddy man rose to greet them, his rough, calloused hands, twisting his hat into knots as he stammered over his words.

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"My-my lady, it's an honor to meet you." The man paused, wiping the sweat off his brow, before he continued. "The priest of Yarha was hoping you would make it tonight. For the children?"

Ihra stared at the man for a long moment, her face inscrutable. But Jasper already knew what her answer would be.

Finally, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, whatever." She turned to face Jasper. "Are you coming?"

"Of course; it's not safe for you to wander the streets alone right now."

“Let's get this over with then.”

The two rushed through the streets toward the temple of Yarha, the laborer quickly falling behind. The first stars were peaking through the purple and amber skies, but the streets still thronged with people. Jasper had noticed that, unlike the cities in Sappiya, the port of Kār-Kuppû stayed busy well into the night. He wasn’t sure if it was a characteristic of the city, or if the Djinn in general preferred the night, but he had to admit he felt safer with a crowd of people around him.

When they reached the marketplace that the temple overlooked, it was lit up like a carnival. Blue fire burned in censers atop poles, reminding Jasper of streetlamps you’d find in Victorian England, or at least an alternative steampunk version thereof. The air was heavy with the smell of food - roasted nuts, broiled fish, exotic spices he couldn’t name as the people bustled back and forth. He stopped at a few of the stalls, buying bulging bags of varied nuts and candies, before they proceeded into the temple.

He paused at the door, turning to Ihra. “You ready for this?”

She shrugged, her mouth twisted in a wry grin. “It was always my dream to be a sideshow in the circus.” Squaring her shoulders, Ihra stepped into the temple.

The courtyard was absolutely packed with people. The crowd was jammed together as tightly as sardines in a can, but a path was still open, leading toward the statue of Yarha. The priest stood in front of the goddess but rushed to greet them as soon as he saw them, unable to hide the relief that washed over his face, as he bowed before them.

“Thank you, Lady Ihra,” he murmured. “The children will not forget this.”

She let him take her hand and lead her in front of the statue. A group of about fifty children was clustered in the front row; all of them were dressed in identical simple tunics, their clothes a bit threadbare but clean. At least he didn’t lie about that, Jasper thought.

Jasper hung back as the priest led Ihra in front of the crowd.

“We have been blessed tonight by the presence of one of the goddess’ children.” The crowd hushed instantly as the priest begin to speak. His words were calm, honeyed even, his face glowing with more than mere joy. To his surprise, Jasper could feel the presence of something more in the courtyard, of something divine. He knew the gods here were real - hell, he’d held the hand of a goddess more than once - but he’d gotten used to meeting Kas̆dael in the void. Encountering the gods in the real world, rather than some mystical other realm, was still kind of shocking.

The priest bowed before the statue, Ihra following his lead, and he raised his hands.

Belēt-Yarha, aṣbat sissiktāki. S̆emî, S̆āpirtu rabîtu. S̆emî, Ilat-s̆amû…

As the priest prayed, attendants spread a feast before the statue. Heaping piles of food were set at its feet and a new cloak was draped across its shoulders. If it hadn’t been for the heavy feeling in the air, Jasper might have found it absurd, but he still was unprepared for what happened.

The statue moved.

Bending down, it touched the plates of food, the offerings disappearing in a flash of light. When the last of the offerings had been consumed, the goddess floated up in the air, her feet resting on a crescent moon, her hands spread in benediction over the gathered crowd. He found himself on his knees before her, a sense of awe pervading every fiber of his body.

And then the statue began to weep. The priest stood up, a chalice clutched in his hands as the tears flowed from her eyes, carefully catching each drop that fell in the cup. The courtyard was utterly silent - no one, from young to old, daring to make a sound as the goddess wept. When the chalice brimmed with her tears, the statue slowly descended to the ground, the crescent moon setting back down on its pedestal as it stiffened in place, and the feeling of the divine suddenly vanished. It was once again just a statue.

The priest lifted the chalice above his head. “Lady Yarha has given us her blessing. Remember this day with reverence.”

He lifted Ihra up to her feet and held out the chalice to her. “Please, Lady Ihra, take the first sip. The goddess honored your presence today.”

She took the cup in her hands, letting the tears fill her mouth, and handed it back to the priest. She staggered as the effect hit her. Her skin grew slightly paler, the hair on her head lengthening past her shoulders, and even the short antlers that peaked out of her hair stretched ever so slightly. Ihra fell on her knees before the statue, utterly wrought.

The priest then took a sip from the cup. No obvious changes manifested as the chalice was passed through the crowd, each one taking a draught of the goddess' tears.

When it reached Jasper, he lifted it to his lips. His mouth tingled, almost with a burning sensation, as the tears touched his tongue. For a moment, he could swear the statute moved again, turning its eyes to look at him, but the vision vanished as the tears slid down his throat. He passed the chalice on, as a deep feeling of warmth and comfort swept over him.

When the last of the crowd had drunk, the chalice was returned to the priest. A few dregs were left in the cup, which he offered to Ihra. Shaking her head, she tried to refuse, but the priest insisted. “The gift of a goddess should not be wasted, Lady Ihra. Besides,” he bent low to her ear, "I have no doubt that you will find a blessing when you next meditate."

Succumbing to his pleas, Ihra lifted the cup again to her lips, draining it dry. The chalice fell from her hands, clanging against the ground as she slumped over unconscious.

Worried, Jasper bolted forward. The priest waved him off. “Don’t worry, my lord - she’s fine. To take the divine within oneself can be a draining experience.” The priest’s words proved correct as, after a few tense moments, Ihra stirred.

She had a dazed look in her eyes as she stood up, wobbly. “What happened?” Her body stiffened as she saw the crowd gathered around her, but Ihra relaxed when she saw the statue. “Oh, right, the temple.” Composing herself, she bowed toward the statue, offering a murmured prayer of thanks to Selene, while the priest placed the chalice back at the base of the pedestal.

When she was done, the priest dismissed the people. A few left immediately heading for the temple exit, but most hung around, still curious about the “elf.” The orphans had no such qualms, crowding around her excitedly. With a smile, Jasper dug the treats he had bought in the marketplace out of his bag. The smell of roasted nuts filled the air, and the children squealed in glee as they saw the candies spread out before them. All thoughts of Ihra were quickly forgotten as they dug into the treats, allowing the two of them to sleep through the crowd toward the temple exit. The rest of the congregation followed close behind, streaming down the steps of the temple.

Jasper had only taken a few steps into the marketplace when a rod smashed into his ribs.