Ever since the skirmish with the Eye of the Flame assassin, Upachu has kept a vigilant watch over me with an unwavering gaze. The result of the encounter leaves much speculation, something I’ve been unable to shake. He continues to gawk the whole walk to the Qantua trading post by the Maiu Qasapaq, mouth open to the extent where I begin to fear that, should someone attempt to cast a line to catch a fish, they’d hook him instead.

As annoying and frustrating as it is to be ogled over, I’m hesitant to confess that I, too, share the same curiosity as Upachu. Clutching the lapis lazuli amulet that dangles on my chest, I wonder what influence it has over me, what powers it provides. When Entilqan expressed to me during our conversation in my dream that this was the same amulet she wore, I hadn’t guessed how it may affect me. Yet her powers were never to hear people’s thoughts. She was an adept warrior, possessing a prowess unseen in Pachil. Her uncanny ability for military strategy and tactics in combat go unmatched to this day—all the teachings at the Maqanuiache pale in comparison to her wisdom. But those are not the abilities I possess, leaving me confused as to how this all works. How does one obtain supernatural abilities, and what dictates the powers one receives? Is it from this amulet, or something else entirely?

We collect ourselves and resume the journey to Auilqa by way of the trading post. The tiny settlement buzzes with business, as merchants from far and wide gather to present their wares and exchange news from their homelands. Against the backdrop of rust-colored stone, there is a showcase throughout the bustling plaza involving vibrant displays of textiles and garments from all over Pachil, the wafting aromas of exotic foods being cooked on grills and in fire pits, glimmering metallic jewelry, exquisitely painted pottery and tools to handle any type of labor—all of which is a sight that rivals the grandest marketplaces of Qapauma.

Eyeing over the goods, we manage to scrounge up enough supplies to get us to Chopaqte, the Achope capital. Traversing the Haqu Minsa from Iaqutaq will be lengthy and arduous, requiring countless days enduring the sea’s open waters. Having never before been on a water vessel, I would be lying if the idea of traveling aboard one of those mechanisms didn’t cause me to feel trepidation. However, if it’s what is required of me, I will persevere, likely being dragged against my will like our llama companion.

Much of our time spent at the trading post involves me haggling over the steep prices that Upachu is too willing to pay. Whether it’s the checkered patterns of the adorning garments worn outside of my tunic or Upachu’s white robes of the Great Library, we’re frequently met with merchants attempting to price gouge us, believing us to be wealthier than we actually are. I grow increasingly tired and infuriated with the countless traders telling someone one price, then giving us an inflated number when we approach.

I’m about to give up the endeavor and rely on hunting to fill our stockpile when one more agreeable merchant waves us over. His eyes are bright and light brown, and he smiles warmly at us as we approach. His clothing is more modest than that of his compatriots, dressed in simpler tunics and lacking the excessive number of jewelry pieces that the others flaunt. I look for clues of his homeland in the colors of his garment, but the deep blue and silver doesn’t bring anything to mind.

“Your presence has caused quite a stir,” he smirks. “Seeing a Qantua general and member of the Great Library this far south has caught everyone’s attention. What has taken you away from the comforts of Hilaqta?”

“We’re on a great journey,” Upachu exclaims. I give him a glowering look, wordlessly demanding he bite his tongue lest he give too much away. We can’t afford to be discovered by our enemies and have our mission exposed carelessly. He doesn’t silence himself, but instead replies in a tone of solemn reverence, “We’re embarking on a journey to honor the ancient tradition of the Great Library of Hilaqta. As stewards of our history, it’s our duty to traverse Pachil, verifying the accuracy of our records and enriching them with the wisdom of distant lands. It’s an opportunity to weave new threads into our quipus, ensuring our ancestors’ efforts and sacrifices aren’t forgotten by those who come after us.”

The merchant nods thoughtfully. “I’ve heard tales of such endeavors. It’s a noble cause, preserving the history of not just Qantua, but all of Pachil. It would be a great honor if I may support your noble efforts by supplying your journey. To where are you traveling?”

“Chopaqte,” Upachu replies. “We are to meet with the merchant nobility of the Achope.”

“That’s a mighty long way,” the merchant notes. “I don’t envy having to travel across the great sea. Not much of a seafarer myself.”

“We have to start some place,” Upachu says. “And I’ve gotten off easy. I feel sorry for the person selected to travel to Auilqa!”

They both share a chuckle, with the merchant nearly in stitches. I’m impressed by the ease with which Upachu can weave tales. Like how he created an elaborate excuse regarding the painting of the Great Library that led to the discovery of these locations marked on the clay pots. Perhaps I should be concerned, wondering if he’s used the same tactics on me. Yet, for now, I let those suspicions subside, stepping back so as to not expose his untruths.

“Then Upuiqu is the guide you need,” he says with much confidence. “He can navigate the Maiu Qasapaq better than a condor soars the mountain skies. He’ll get you to Iaqutaq the safest and swiftest way of all navigators, and he may have a contact or twelve at the port city who could let you aboard their vessel to travel to Achope.”

A wide smile spans Upachu’s lips. “What a coincidence! That will do greatly! Thank you! Thank you kindly! They say this world lacks civility, and I started to fear they were right, having dealt with your counterparts here. But you! A shelter providing refuge amidst a storm!”

I can only roll my eyes at this excessive amount of praise, but Upachu’s charm appears infectious enough to have won the merchant over. Unable to resist, he purchases additional items we don’t need—tunics, wooden figurines, scarves, balsa wood bowls. He claims it’s to curry favor from the gods, to repay the good hospitality. I see it as a way to overload the cart and slow down the llama. Yet I don’t stop him, allowing him to make his absurd purchases, which bring him an abundance of joy.

After gathering what we need for the journey—and then some—we make our way to the harbor, which consists of a few rickety wooden planks barely supported by large, semi-round posts. The platform is uneven, at best, and the llama refuses to place a hoof onto it. Too excited for the journey, Upachu marches proudly toward the vessel designated to take us to Iaqutaq, not waiting for a moment to assist me with his animal companion.

The wide vessel is manned by a weathered figure standing crookedly atop the mechanism. He greets us with a warm, relatively toothless smile, waving us aboard with his time-worn hands as though he is expecting us. The wind occasionally sweeps the wisps of silver hair, needlessly bound together by a reddish-brown headband decorated with multiple colored beads.

“To where are you traveling, friends?” he asks in a raspy voice. “You’ll find no better vessel to transport you up and down the Maiu Qasapaq than mine.”

“Are you the illustrious Upuiqu we’ve heard so much about?” Upachu asks in response.

“I’m not sure what that word means,” Upuiqu says, “but if it’s not a bad thing, then yes! That would be me!”

Upachu laughs heartily. “I assure you, friend, that you come well recommended! We must travel to Chopaqte, but will settle for your expertise in getting us to Iaqutaq.”

“Including that thing?” the raftsman inquires, pointing to the llama I’m struggling to handle. Upachu nods, to which Upuiqu says, “Well, I can’t say it’ll be the most comfortable experience for it, and you’ll have to manage the creature yourself, seeing as that’s not really my job.”

“Not to worry, friend,” Upachu says reassuringly. “My partner here, Teqosa, will take care of that!” I groan, getting the sense that this was going to happen.

Upuiqu fetches a rather reasonable sum, to which Upachu is more than happy to oblige. He finds a place on the vessel and urges me along without offering any assistance to expedite the process. It requires a lot of coaxing, but the llama reluctantly climbs aboard, appearing nervous the entire time as the raft tilts and wobbles with the tiniest movement. It remains unsettled for the duration of our travels, and is unresponsive to my futile efforts at comforting the creature.

Upachu, meanwhile, prattles on with the navigator. The two speak to one another like old friends, commenting on trivial matters like the weather and the pains of growing older. The navigator is able to chat and work, using his calloused hands to expertly drive a long pole into the river, guiding us along. He steers us about with the same fluidity as the gently flowing waters, nonchalantly planting the pole so that we maneuver around rocks and fallen trees with ease as he’s clearly done for dozens of harvests.

“You appear well traveled, friend,” Upachu notes. “Yet you choose not to venture any further than the Maiu Qasapaq? Why is that?”

“No need to travel anywhere else,” the navigator remarks. “Been doing this since I could carry this stick. I don’t think there are enough fingers, toes, and hooves on this raft to count the amount times I’ve traversed this river! You meet all sorts of people, especially with the trading post right there. Even had a Tuatiu, a Tapeu, and an Ulxa aboard my vessel not long ago, all at the same time. Sounds like the start of a terrible joke, doesn’t it?” His laughter fills the raft, and I can’t help but smile at the toothless man amidst such uncertain times.

“Well, blessed be the sun!” Upachu exclaims. “We know those people! They weren’t tremendously difficult to deal with, I hope?”

Upuiqu chuckles. “Nah, they were fine. The two men squabbled a bit, but the woman? Something about her seemed… different. Much more different than any Tuatiu I’ve ever met. But in a good way, of course!” He sounds slightly defensive in saying the last part, not intending to offend.

“What about her brings such an observation?” I ask, speaking for the first time, which catches our navigator off guard.

“The Tuatiu are fiercely serious people,” he starts, “but she carried herself with purpose every waking moment. She seemed to always be alert, always observing. Her eyes, they didn’t just watch, they saw—into you, around you, past what was in front of her. It was like she was constantly solving a riddle only she could see. Even in casual conversation, you could tell her mind was piecing together more than what was being said. And even when those two men argued, she had a way of calming the storm between them without saying much. A leader, not by noise, but by presence, she was.”

“That sounds about correct,” Upachu confirms. “She is destined for great things, I’m certain.”

As we approach Iaqutaq, the sight of the port village strikes me as a stark deviation from the hilltop dwellings typical of my homeland. Nestled between the rolling hills and the edge of the sea, it’s a rare feather in Qantua’s headdress, where water replaces the stone and soil to which we’re so accustomed. A series of terraced gardens descend towards the shore, closely resembling the agricultural terraces back home, but adorned with crops that thrive on the differing climate, such as cassava, plantains, and a variety of peppers. Made of sun-dried bricks and wood, the buildings sprawl out towards the water’s edge, with thatched roofs waving like the sea’s own currents in the gentle breeze. Here, the air is filled with the tang of salt and the bustling sounds of trade, something uncommon to the silence of the Qantua hills. Wooden docks stretch out into the water like the fingers of the ground itself. They are bustling with activity, and are lined with canoes and rafts of varying sizes, some unloading goods from distant lands, others preparing to travel to far off destinations. It’s a village displaying Qantua resilience at its best, showing our people find a connection to the land, wherever it may lead us.

Thanks to befriending our helpful navigator, he’s helped us secure access to a sturdy merchant’s canoe that happens to be heading to Chopaqte the following morning. Seeing a Qantua general and a wisened servant to the Great Library, he was more than happy to transport us, despite traveling with the llama, and finding just enough space to accommodate us all. It will be a bit cramped, as we’ll mostly be sharing the area with his cargo, but because he’s providing this service without cost, I’m inclined not to complain.

As the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon, I find myself standing at the edge of the Haqu Minsa, the vast expanse of water that separates us from our next destination. Beside me, Upachu hums a tune of the Qantua hills, a soft melody that battles against the roar of the sea. Burdened with supplies and the concealed pots, our llama seems indifferent to the change in scenery, quietly chewing on some hay.

The mood of the sea shifts without warning—now calm, now tempestuous—reflecting the sky’s ever-changing display. Upuiqu warned us of Haqu Minsa’s capricious nature, of storms that arise without warning and waves that could swallow a vessel whole. Having never traversed the sea, I find myself frequently scanning the horizon, the salt air sharp in my nostrils, as I contemplate the unseen depths below. Yet as we travel, there’s an eerie calmness to it all. The only sounds are the gentle lapping of water against the hull and the distant calls of seabirds circling above.

A large canoe hewn from the trunks of giant trees, our vessel is surprisingly stable, even as it’s laden with goods bound for Chopaqte. The Achope merchants aboard are skilled navigators, their familiarity with these waters evident in their confident movements. They steer us through channels marked by subtle cues in the water, impressively navigating by the position of the sun and the stars once night falls.

The voyage is long, requiring almost half a moon cycle, and though it’s fraught with the anticipation of danger, it offers moments of serene beauty. The monotony of the sea is occasionally broken by the sight of a distant island or a school of fish darting underneath the vessel. Upachu tries to lighten the mood by joyfully recounting tales of past adventures, but I frequently find myself lost in thought, considering the challenges that lie ahead.

With each stroke of the paddle, the shores of Iaqutaq and Qantua recede into the distance. As we draw nearer to our destination, the coastline of Achope territory unfolds before us. The dense jungles come up to the sea’s edge, occasionally giving way to patches of a white sandy beach. Lush, large palm trees reach for the sky above, stretching as far as the eye can see, as the breeze carries the humidity of the rainforest. The hues of greens are unlike any in Qantua, spanning from deep emerald to the lightest lime, and the azure waters that surround the land shimmer under the golden sun, revealing rich coral and marine life teeming beneath the surface.

As we navigate further along the Maiu Hatun—the great river separating Achope from Auilqa—Chopaqte comes into view. The city is strategically planted within an inlet that shields it naturally, emerging like a jewel nestled within the river. When we finally dock, I feel a mixture of relief and anticipation. To busy my mind with other thoughts, I take in the sights of this foreign land. The city is a marvel of architecture, with towering stone pyramids that catch the sunlight, casting long shadows over the plazas below. The jungles seem to choke the city, inserting itself throughout the paths and between homes, hardly allowing any clearings. Structures of wood and the occasional pale stone rise in elaborate tiers, adorned with intricate carvings and statues that stand as a testament to the Achope’s wealth. Everywhere I look, the royal purple and gold of the Achope banners flutter in the breeze. The scents of exotic spices and the sounds of haggling mingle among the bustling central marketplace, a constant reminder of the prosperity and pride of this merchant faction.

“Isn’t this remarkable!” Upachu exclaims excitedly. He gazes upon the multistoried wooden buildings that dwarf the residents below. “I haven’t been here since my youth! It really hasn’t changed at all. Nope, not one bit.”

Wearing their colorful garments that hardly cover much of their skin, Upachu and I stand out immensely. The jungle’s humidity quickly catches up to us in our thick Qantua clothing, flushing our cheeks red as beads of sweat spontaneously emerge from our overheated bodies. Upachu doesn’t seem to mind, staring wondrously at the foreign sights. However, I remind him of our current condition of discomfort, as well as seeking hydration for his oft ignored animal, and we determine to purchase clothing better suited for this environment. This notion excites Upachu further, and we make our way to the marketplace.

To call it “a city within a city” would be describing it unjustly. Far grander than the Qantua trading post, the central marketplace of Chopaqte unfurls into the horizon, lined with more vendors than trees in the surrounding jungles. Merchants bark from their stalls, resplendent in elaborate garments and jewelry, seemingly to reflect their wealth and status.

Any good one seeks can be found here: Fine textiles and fabrics made from cotton and agave fibers, brightly colored and woven with intricate patterns. Exquisite jewelry crafted from jade, turquoise, and gold. Beautifully decorated ceramics and pottery, used for cookware or ornate ceremonial vessels, all adorned with geometric and nature-inspired motifs. Jars and baskets filled with local and imported spices and herbs, like vanilla, allspice, and achiote. A diverse array of tropical produce, such as avocados, papayas, pineapples, and chili peppers. Cacao beans, and chocolate drinks spiced with chili and honey. Sharp and durable tools and weapons made from obsidian and flint. Pelts of jaguars, ocelots, and other jungle animals, along with the vibrant feathers from tropical birds like macaws and quetzals. A variety of medicinal herbs, roots, incense, and concoctions prepared by Achope healers. Even exotic pets, such as parrots, monkeys, and small ocelots.

Upachu is immediately drawn to the stall containing capes made from the brilliant plumage of tropical birds. “What need have you of such a cape?” I challenge him. He waves me away, entranced and enthralled by the enchanting featherwork. I’m left to roll my eyes, standing next to the llama, which expresses its indifference as it munches on more straw.

It’s then that my ears are drawn to the sound of distant shouting. Except it’s not two people bartering over a price. No, this sounds like an intense confrontation. Do I intervene with someone else’s affairs? I ask Upachu to watch over the llama, but he is too enamored by the items in the merchant’s stall to hear me.

Waking by the other stalls, and being shouted at by the vendors hawking their wares, I notice a heated exchange not at a cart, but inside a building. The sweet stench of fermenting chicha permeates the air as I peek inside. There, a stout figure wielding a carafe of the pale beverage points and scolds a young woman. She has long, dark hair, with occasional strands braided with vibrant threads and golden beads, and her deep brown eyes are sharp and piercing. Unlike the typical lavishness of the Achope, and especially of its merchants, she wears a lightweight, sleeveless tunic embroidered with fine, gold thread over rugged pants made from some kind of treated leather. And around her waist is a belt fashioned from various pieces of leather and cloth. Not only do her clothes stand out, but adorning her sun-kissed arms and legs are numerous markings in black, tattoos of lines and dots forming peculiar shapes.

She stands firm, her back straight, facing the towering, red-faced man. His voice booms, “You can’t just come in here, demanding special treatment like some highborn lady!”

“Special treatment?” The woman responds, sounding calm, and almost amused. “I’m merely asking for a fair price, something your inflated rates wouldn’t know if it danced on your ledger.”

The crowd around them is a combination of entertained patrons and annoyed bystanders, with the latter trying to move past the spectacle without getting involved. The man steps closer, clearly unaccustomed to being talked back to, especially by someone he perceives as inferior. “Look here, you’ve got some nerve—“

But the young woman doesn’t flinch. Instead of being intimidated by his brutish stature, she also steps forward, closing the gap even more. She snarls, defiantly lifting her square chin and jaw to fix her gaze onto his. “And you’ve got some learning to do about hospitality and commerce. I’ve traversed lands you’ve only heard of in tales, and I assure you, your chicha isn’t the treasure you think it is.”

Indignant, the man sputters before finally bellowing, “Out! I won’t have my establishment insulted by a… a wanderer!”

With a dramatic flourish that’s clearly more for the crowd’s benefit than anything else, he attempts to usher her out physically. The woman, however, smoothly sidesteps his clumsy attempt, causing him to nearly tumble onto the ground. She turns, and with a dignified air, strides out on her own terms. As she leaves, she brushes off her tunic, a wry smile playing on her lips, clearly not the least bit troubled by the encounter.

It’s then that I notice the wide, copper bracelets around her wrists—copper in a land covered in gold—and a complicated, ornate mechanism that dangles from a leather cord around her neck. Getting a better look at it, now that the commotion has died down and the onlookers begin to disperse, I can see that its surface is intricately decorated with strange symbols—not necessarily the symbols Upachu and I discovered on the papyrus, but something else.

The marketplace fades into the background as I approach the woman. She catches my gaze, wary and watching me with caution as she sizes me up.

“Seems you’re not a fan of the local beverage,” I start, attempting levity amidst the dense air of the marketplace, and the tense air of her recent encounter.

The woman’s lips twitch into a smirk, and her stance is relaxed but alert. “Not at the cost of being swindled. Some people are born atop the temple, yet boast as if they climbed it stone by stone, and believe they can do no wrong. The owner doesn’t like to be reminded that he obtained this place through deceptive means, using familial wealth to strong-arm those out of their hard-earned possessions. I prefer my drinks served with honesty anyway, thanks.”

Her reply draws a genuine chuckle from me. “I’m Teqosa, and my distracted friend over there is Upachu.”

“Síqalat,” she introduces herself with a firm handshake. “And judging by your garb and the llama, not from around here. What brings you to Chopaqte, seeking passage to even more dangerous lands?”

“Let’s just say we’re on a mission of importance, one that requires discretion and a guide who knows how to navigate more than just overpriced chicha.”

Síqalat’s eyes narrow, intrigue painted across her features. “A mission, you say? And why would you trust someone who’s just been thrown out of a tavern?”

“Because you stood your ground, young lady,” Upachu pipes in, finally joining us. I didn’t realize he had been watching the spectacle, believing he was too engrossed in the merchant’s wares to notice. “And anyone who can do that in the face of blatant dishonesty is worth at least a conversation about potentially perilous journeys.”

Síqalat assesses us both, and a slow smile forms. “Well, if it’s adventure and discretion you seek, you might have found your guide. Let’s find a place where we can speak freely, away from the chaos of the market.”

We follow Síqalat into a building far removed from the splendor of Chopaqte’s main thoroughfares. The room is dark and shady, barely illuminated by the few torches suspended about the perimeter and the small trickles of sunlight that seeps in. The patrons look groggy, hardly able to keep themselves upright as they clutch large carafes of chicha, and off to one side is an exhausted-looking woman looking onto the scene, appearing as though she likely hasn’t slept a wink, wearing a simple, neutral-toned tunic as she leans against the wall. A few hold boisterous conversations that resonate throughout the room, wearing more plain clothing and speaking in a gruff, harsh-sounding dialect like that of the dockworkers.

Upachu leans in, whispering, “So this is a tavern? Quite the peculiar establishment.”

Síqalat chuckles, ushering us to a secluded corner. “You'll find these ‘peculiar establishments’ are the best places for honest conversation. Or dishonest, depending on your company.”

She signals to the worn-out tavern keeper, who shuffles her feet as she unhurriedly approaches us. Síqalat orders something, and the tavern keeper returns with three carafes containing a drink that smells oddly like fermented cactus. The aroma is strikingly pungent, causing me to cautiously bring it to my lips. The first sip washes over my tongue with an odd combination of tang and sweetness. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s unlike anything I’ve tasted before, leaving a bewilderingly lingering taste. The texture is smoother than the chicha I’m accustomed to, yet its potency is evident after just a few sips. I eye the drink leerily, aware that I’m treading into uncharted territory with every swallow. My reaction amuses Síqalat as a smirk crosses her lips.

“So,” she begins, settling back against the wooden bench. “You’re not just passing through Chopaqte for the sights and Achope’s alleys, are you?”

With his inability to contain excitement, Upachu eagerly starts, “We’re on a journey of discovery.”

Her eyebrows arch. “A ‘journey of discovery’, is it? And just where does this journey take you? Does this fabled path also wander through the land of unlikely tales and forgotten myths?”

“Our destination,” I interject, placing a hand on Upachu’s resting arm while hoping to steer the conversation with caution, “would be to the Auilqa territory.”

Her surprise is genuine. “Auilqa? That’s no small undertaking. What could possibly compel you to venture there?”

“We seek knowledge,” I say, veiling our true purpose with half-truths. “Our quest demands a guide who knows the lands, and how to navigate its complexities.”

“If it’s knowledge you seek, I’m baffled as to why you’d wander so far from your beds,” she quips. “Surely, the Great Library of Qantua is ripe with tales to satiate your thirst for adventure, no? Or is it that the comfort of home has grown too familiar, too safe, and now you find yourselves itching for a taste of danger to add a dash of flavor to your tales?”

Upachu looks confused and stunned at the mention of the Great Library. “How did you…” But before he completes the question, he pats his white robes and looks down at his garb, coming to the realization. “I see you’re an astute observer.”

“Like I’ve mentioned earlier, I’m well-traveled and have seen much of these lands,” she says, her chest swelling with pride. She tilts her head almost entirely back and takes a long swig from the container, nearly emptying it of its contents.

“Well, as much as I’d rather stay in bed, I’m afraid the knowledge we desire brings us to venture into the jungles of Auilqa,” Upachu responds.

Síqalat leans back, absorbing our vague reasoning. “You’re not the usual travelers, are you?” She now sips her drink thoughtfully. “And your real reasons must be compelling if you’re willing to tread such dangerous ground.”

“I assure you, our reasons are well-intentioned,” I confirm.

“Well, for a journey fraught with peril, I may be just the person you’re looking for,” she says, kicking her dirty sandals onto the table, much to the chagrin of the tavern keeper. “I’ve traversed the savage jungles countless times, and I know them better than the jaguars that prowl the land. And fortunately for you, I’ve recently grown tired of the monotony here, the endless bartering and bickering between fools.”

We sit in silence as we study each other for a moment longer. Then, she sets down her carafe with a decisive clack. “Alright, I’m intrigued. But I don’t work for chicha, you know.”

“We can ensure your efforts will be well rewarded,” I promise her.

“Then you have yourself a guide!” she exclaims. Then, her tone suddenly turns serious, "But know this, the journey ahead is not for the faint-hearted. I lead, you follow. No questions asked.”

“We understand,” I agree, certain there will be dangers that lie ahead. “At dawn, then?”

“At dawn,” Síqalat confirms with a nod. She snatches the carafe from the table and pounds back the remaining contents. She tosses it aside, letting it clatter along the stone floor, and abruptly gets out of her seat, marching out of the tavern as though she urgently has somewhere else to be.

We look upon one another with a stunned amusement, wordlessly inquiring whether what we just witnessed was a fabrication of the mind or reality. We take our time finishing the beverages, and are abruptly reminded by the tavern keeper that they have yet to be paid for when we attempt to leave. I grunt in frustration, but Upachu blissfully fishes in his pouch for a few copper pieces and gently hands them to the grumpy owner.

As we depart the establishment to find a bed for the night, Upachu mutters to me, “Hopefully she knows her taverns as well as she knows her trails.”

“It would be a useful skill,” I muse, thinking how her unconventionality might just be the edge we need. I’m relieved to have found someone who can aid us in navigating the Auilqa jungles, sensing that in her, we might have found the very means we need to reveal the secrets awaiting us.