77. The Emirate of Spice

* Aerendyl, Pyt, and Wilfred, their crew (with Poop in the Iron Flask), and their guests Cill, Lockjaw, and Mennick, all touched down in some backstreets of the Grand Bazaar, a sprawling network of twisting narrow streets lined with shops, cultivated streams and canals with merchants announcing their wares as they float along in small boats, and open plazas filled with market stalls inside brightly coloured tents. Small monkeys run in the streets and on rooftops, palm fronds and fig trees offer shade by the waterside and in the occasional front garden, and the air carries a scorching heat and heavy humidity. The copper-skinned locals made their way around the markets in brightly died silk gowns, feet in sandals, beards aplenty, head wraps and covers optional but apparently preferred to stave off the heat. Emerging from their *wind walk* forms, the group have a look around. The Emirate of Spice awaited.
	+ They were quickly taken in by one of many merchants selling fine wooden masks, carved and painted to look like animals.
		- The merchant, Abu Habid, was all to eager to give his patter to this obvious group of out-of-towners.
		- He told them there was to be a great festival on the 1st of Nohum, the Wyvern Moon - apparently four days' time -- to celebrate the founding of the Emirate of Spice as a sovereign state in truth. Rather amusingly, the locals had apparently been planning the festival for weeks if not months, even though Ibn Qahbe's delegation only got their way in the last few days.
		- Aerendyl gets suckered into buying 14 masks, a full set of animals to represent the moons of the Sultanese calendar, as well as getting Abu Habid to quickly carve a small mask in the leopard style that would fit Poop. All in all, Aerendyl pays the man 20 gold.
	+ They ask the merchant about places to stay in town and he says that most visitors stay in the guesthouses of the Calendar Docks district, but if the group wanted to experience authentic Emirati life, they should be well served in a local kaf house called the Frog in Well -- ran by his cousin Samir.
	+ The party agree and so the merchant has his 14-year-old son Habid guide them through the bazaar's streets to his cousin's place. As they go, merchants from all over call out to the large group, offering them crushed chillies and spices, beans and fruits, fish and potatoes, fine cuts of silk and linen, sandals and hats, crockery and porcelain, glassware, carved wood, jewellery, and all manner of other goods besides. The whole place is filled with the noise and excitement of mercantile spirit!
	+ They descend to the basement level to reach the Frog in Well's entrance/common room. But there are stairs leading down to the level on three of the large room's four sides, and the wooden slat walls are turned to let a cool breeze run through the whole place. They arrived in the mid afternoon but already the place seemed filled with people partaking in the lively pastimes of the locals: a poet was adjusting the strings of his oud before he started another spoken story; a spicy smell arose from the sides where people sat atop cushions on the floor, smoking from long, thin pipes, or from large bottle-like contraptions that stood in the middle of their group, numerous hoses running off them for each participant to hold and puff at as they liked; numerous barbers worked their razors skilfully around the beards, eyebrows, and hairlines of their clientele; and the owner of the place, Samir, worked a small bar in front of a kitchen. A few people stood around the bar talking to the cheery looking man, sipping kaf from tall, narrow glasses.
	+ Samir haggles with the group, getting them to agree to book two rooms out for five days - enough to see them through to the other side of the festival.
	+ Samir tells them that it's good for them to stay so long, for the Emir is to be opening his palace for the whole of the Wyvern Moon, allowing any and all to come and petition for him, just as soon as the festival is over. Perhaps the party would like to go and maybe they'll be lucky enough to have their petition granted, eh. 'Oh yes indeed, how wonderful that would be for you!' Samir says happily.
	+ Samir like his cousin before makes a big deal out of being honoured to have Wilfred, a member of a rare race in these parts, but one they respect a great deal, bless his humble business with his patronage. Both the men made such a big deal out of being polite regarding Wilfred not being of a tall race that it immediately verged on rudeness in that weird way these things tend to work out.
	+ Wilfred asks the guy if he knows a good tailor in the area. Samir tells him that the illustrious Abu Faisal Jan al'Sing is a man of great repute, known well for being able to cater to the needs of the small folk that on occasion visit the Emirate.
	+ The group decide to head for clothes immediately, so Samir has his nephew Habid show them the way after he's done with a few chores for his aunt.
	+ In the meantime, Cill and Lockjaw tell the group it might be a good moment for them to head off for a bit, now that they know where the group are going to be staying for a while. The pair wanted to begin looking into starting their new life here and so planned on looking for buildings that might serve as a home or shop. The halfling twins had apparently decided to go with them to offer a bit of protection -- though Poppy had been uncharacteristically quiet for quite a while now.
* Another trip through the winding streets of the Grand Bazaar following the boy Habid then, and Aerendyl, Pyt, Wilfred, Mennick, Taylor, Garret, and Alric headed to the tailor Abu Faisal's shop. They took a moment to reflect the sudden lack of gender diversity in their group...
	+ Abu Faisal's shop is beautiful stone building on the edge of a fountain plaza, surrounded by other high end shops and merchants in permanent residence. Inside, a great many attendants rushed about to service a lot of customers -- festival time apparently keeping demand high.
	+ Habid points out Abu Faisal, a tall, old, human man with skin like wrinkled leather, a neatly oiled beard trimmed fairly short, and a head wrap and silk gown showing off the true beauty his dyes could achieve on silk. The boy guide agrees to wait for them outside while they do their shopping.
	+ Abu Faisal greets the large group warmly and is all too happy to tell them about the intricacies of the upcoming festival, the traditions regarding which colours and styles of robe are typically paired with which masks, and even helps those that are interested figure out which of the masks Aerendyl bought might be most suitable for them.
		- Some people felt affinity with the moon they were born under, others preferred the moon that hung above when something significant happened in their lives, and others again preferred simply to choose a moon that occurred during a part of the year they liked. Moreover, some people preferred to sport the animals based on their more metaphysical meanings -- the ibis for longevity, as echoed by the endless light of summer days; the unicorn for forgiveness and healing, often favoured by physicians and the sick; or perhaps the rat for tenacity, endurance, fortitude, and familiar prosperity; or again, rarest moon of all, the chameleon, representing the Akandan Moon, the only moon that does not appear each year, instead coming only once every seven.
		- In the end, Aerendyl goes with the ibis (for the metaphors), Wifred with the lion (since it was likely the moon he was born under, and he thought it appropriate), and Pyt the unicorn (because he wanted something a bit extra).
	+ When Abu Faisal took note of Wilfred, he lost his train of thought for a moment, seeming by Pyt's eyes to scrutinise the gnome more heavily than he had the others. When they'd been talking about the masks, the old man asked Wilfred if perhaps he had a fondness for lions -- thinking it was just something that seemed appropriate.
	+ With their masks decided, the group moved on to discussing what outfits they would get.
		- Aerendyl wanted the traditional pairing for the ibis mask, a mostly white robe splashed with deep red at the throat and hem.
		- Wilfred wanted an outfit that would be suitable not only for the festival night and his lion mask, but also to meet with the Emir afterwards, and then to wear on its own after that. They settled on grey silks, lined with linen, and accented by white and blue at the collars, sleeves, and sash.
		- Pyt was happy to go with the recommendations, and so ended up with a robe and sash with a neat vertical line, black on one side, white on the other -- the sash takes a bit of work to tie perfectly in place.
		- And the party's crew and Mennick were also seen to, getting outfits to their preference as well.
	+ The group are shown to a lovely private sitting room while they wait for their outfits to be completed. They're even given kaf to sip while they wait, though it's too bitter for most of their tastes.
	+ One by one the group are called out of the room for additional measurements and a second fitting. When Abu Faisal has Wilfred alone, he talks to the gnome about having travelled much in his younger years, having known a good number of Rumidians back then as well, since he was working and learning his trade in the Sultanates during the war. He said that his teacher taught him a lot back then, but that he's since been developing his own style and way of doing things; Abu Faisal's preference was to make wider sleeves these days, but Wilfred had requested narrow sleeves, the style Abu Faisal's teacher had preferred.
	+ A couple hours after having entered the shop, the group are each presented with beautiful boxes with their custom outfits folded inside. The outfits cost 25gp each, and Aerendyl makes sure to give the man a 50gp tip on top.
	+ As the group are leaving, Abu Faisal calls out, looking at Wilfred: 'it does us well to remember what our teachers taught us from time to time.' Wilfred made to stop and question the man, but he just gave a small shake of his head and told the gnome to go now.
* It's evening now. The boy Habid had dutifully waited for the group while they shopped for their outfits. As they start walking through the Grand Bazaar again, rather than seeing shops closing down, it only seemed that the place was coming more alive in the night, with additional stalls being opened, lanterns and candles being lit, and incense burning on nearly every storefront.
	+ They have the boy lead them to an old bookshop next. The place he takes them to is small but rammed with floor-to-ceiling shelves, all groaning under the weight of leatherbounds, first editions, and other old books with frayed, yellowed edges. A young human woman ran the place, barely paying the group any mind while she read in the corner.
		- Aerendyl picks up a four volume history of Spice Town.
		- Wilfred buys a map of the island and a book called Rocky Island Tales, a collection of fairy-tale style stories about the islets surrounding Spice Town.
		- Wilfred found a good-looking book on genies, called Djinni, Efreeti, Marids, and Mortal Deeds -- it appeared to be a collection of cautionary tales regarding dealing with the creatures. He recommended it to Pyt, saying it would be wise for them to read such a work if they were to deal with one of these creatures, but that Pyt needed to buy it himself since this was all his plan.
		- Pyt bought that book along with another one called the Saucy Djinn, a smutty picture book. This ended up being the most expensive of all their books, apparently being a rare first edition.
	+ The boy Habid leads them back to the Frog in Well and Aerendyl gives him 2gp for his services that day. The boy skips away happily, but not before offering to return in the morning and guide them again. They decline.
	+ The group then talks to Samir, the owner of the establishment. Wilfred gets some gous from him, a disgusting, fiery alcohol, with a texture like custard and a taste that first resembles only the pure spice of a chilli pepper and then repeats with an aftertaste of only ethanol. It coats the mouth and throat on its way down, and sets the stomach rumbling immediately on arrival. Basically, it's grim -- even Samir says he never touches the stuff. But apparently people risk their lives to harvest the stuff from the nests of desert ants (not unlike the relationship between bees and honey), so it fetches a handsome price. Wilfred pays 20gp for a small bottle of the stuff and one of the tall narrow kaf glasses full, so that each of them interested could try a sip.
	+ The night life in the Emirate of Spice was apparently very different to anything they were used to. As evening turns to night, the kaf house only gets more full, and at 10pm, the poet launched into the main event: the third part in his telling of a famous story about the last days before Al-Qara, the religious city that came to hold hegemony over the Six Sultanates. Apparently the poet had been there each of the previous nights doing the same story, and would be there again the next day to conclude it. As the story was unwound, telling of noble-hearted people from each of the old religions of the peninsula, the kaf house was lively with chatter of its own, drinks -- both kaf and alcohol -- flowed, smoke billowed about the ceiling and out the sides of the sunken building, and the barbers still worked tirelessly, joking and chiding their many clientele.
* Eventually the group retires to their rooms for the night.
	+ Wilfred gets Poop out the iron flask. The brownie is uncomfortable for an hour afterwards, as the flask's magic compels him to do everything Wilfred says. He tells Wilfred that it's a weird feeling and he doesn't like it. When the hour's up though, Poop is back to his usual, chipper self. Wilfred gives him the bottle of gous -- it's near as tall as the brownie is himself. Poop has a few sips, loves the stuff, and gets very drunk. Aerendyl also gives Poop his little mask and the brownie is very happy to receive it. And yes, Wilfred doesn't feel the tiny weight of his obligation to Poop lift from his head.
	+ They read some of the genie books, paying particular attention to the cautionary tales.
		- One such story speaks of a man that wishes for immortality from a genie. He was killed instantly -- and so was immortalised in that cautionary tale.
		- Another was a story they had heard before: the tale of a fisherman that pulled up a bottle from the bottom of a lake. The bottle contains an efreet, and the creature was furious about having been imprisoned for so long. He had long ago vowed to kill the first creature that he saw on his release, but he decided to do the fisherman the 'courtesy' of choosing how he was to die, by way of thanking him for giving the genie freedom. The witty fisherman opted for old age and so was able to live long beyond the fearsome encounter though.
	+ The early takeaway for the group was that unlike fey creatures, who never tell lies but always looks to trick and deceive, and are always keen to strike deals, or perhaps devils, who rarely try to trick and instead relish in temping mortals, genies seemed like malicious little shits. They freely lied and cheated wherever they could, and they interpreted the wishes only so much as it served their desire to fuck over the wisher. Wilfred and Aerendyl ask Pyt if he's sure he wants to go through with this, and the bard assures them that it'll be fine.
	+ Wilfred looks in the box his robes are folded inside. Laying atop the grey silk was a folded yellow card. Opening it, the card was completely blank. The gnome pondered what Abu Faisal had said to him, then used his wristpocket cantrip to return Mennick's notes on Madog's conversations in Sawtooth Basin back to him. As soon as Wilfred used the spell close to the card, a thin-lipped mouth appeared. It spoke slowly, and each word was said in a different voice. Over the course of a couple minutes, it gave the following message: "The time to compare our notes should be long overdue when you hear this. My cub waits where your father held while others fell. Leave me no doubt."
		- Wilfred smiles. The message was from his old master, Lyra au Leones. He knew well that it referred to Windy Hill, the site of a great battle in the last Rumid-Sultanese War, where his father Jebeddo had earned the moniker 'Last of the Hill.' Wilfred also knew that Windy Hill was supposed to be somewhere in Kashum, the nearest of the Six Sultanates, but also one of the largest.
	+ For the time being, Wilfred doesn't raise the issue with the others.
	+ The group retire for the night.
	+ Aerendyl finishes his trance and is alone for four hours in the absence of Clwyd. He makes a start on the first of the volumes of Spice Town's history:
		- He learns that its ancient past involved it being pulled between the some of the great powers of the world, but the first Ibn Qahbe, Khan Ibn Qahbe, eventually came with his Calendar Fleet and conquered the island. His naval force was enough to hold it such that the island enjoyed stability for perhaps the first time. Subsequent Ibn Qahbe's, successors chosen by the previous post holder, based solely on their own individual criteria as far as historians could tell, made their marks in their own ways: one apparently earned the loyalty of the manticores that nested in the rocky isles surrounding Spice Town, another was a successful merchant who brought the island into the modern era by serving as a trading hub between the world's great powers. And of course, no history of Spice Town would be complete without mention of spices -- both the licit ones that are bought from the Sultanates, flavour the island's unique cuisine, and make much of its trade with the Rumidian world, or the illicit spice, the many drugs manufactured on the island or the surrounding isles, that flows freely through the great empires of the world on either side of the island.
* The next day, Fallingleaf 34, the group go to the shipyards of the Calendar Docks, rent a ship working space, blocks to hold their vessel, and purchase building supplies for it. Then Poop works tirelessly through the day to fashion them a new steering oar and repair *the Drunken Dragon's* hull as best he can. The group sticks around to help him out where they can, day drink, and try and take it easy.
* In the evening, Aerendyl finds a large fig tree in a suitably quiet area of the Grand Bazaar -- its somewhat near the Lotus District. He marks the tree, then uses *transport via plants* to take himself, Pyt, and Wilfred to Tortuga. They leave their crew in the Emirate of Spice, giving them 100gp each to go wild with.
	+ They stay in the Pleasure Quarter that night, in Master Monday's Lodge, paying 10gp each for individual rooms.
	+ Aerendyl takes the maitre d's offer of companionship up, and so is accompanied by a comely half-elf woman to entertain him with the performing arts before they bang. For pillow talk, Aerendyl moves to his main reason for companionship: he wants news on what's been going on in and around Tortuga. She tells him that overall, life on the shell has been getting a little bit quieter over the past year, though unscrupulous types have occasionally been launching off from Tortuga to go and take part in the peasant revolts of the Northern Margraviate. She expected that to come to an end soon, since apparently the Rumidian Circle were sending archmagi to deal with it. And other than that, the big news was that the Proprietor ran a very successful series of troll fights for a long while.
	+ The next morning the group go to Luciana's house. Since Wilfred messaged ahead the night before, Cornwallace the butler was ready to greet them and Iris the cook had made them breakfast.
	+ Luciana joins them after a bit. She's very happy to see them, sad to hear that Clwyd had been killed, and was sorry that Aerendyl was apparently suffering from greater attentions from the River King than she had to deal with.
		- For her part, she never really spoke to the River King any more; instead Rangrim just showed up from time to time, the two of them went away, often to places Luciana didn't know and didn't bother asking the dwarf about, they killed stuff, Luciana took the loot, and then Rangrim brought her back home. That's really the long and the short of it. Most recently, they'd killed a house-sized spider of some sort.
		- She tells the group that she'd be happy to help them with this fury business, but they'd have to pay her. They all laugh and Wilfred says he doesn't know if they could afford her, to which she shrugs and agrees.
		- After that, the party pass on the stories of some of the adventures since they'd seen her last.
	+ Luciana agrees to keep Wilfred's roguestone in her pantry.
	+ And the group return via tree to the Emirate of Spice that evening.
* The next day passes quickly enough. Cill returns, telling the group they've found a couple promising venues. The group makes sure to get Poppy and Poe their own outfits for the festival, as well as getting a tiny outfit made for Poop.
* Then the day after that, Fallingleaf 37, also the 1st of Nohum, the Wyvern Moon, is the day of the festival of masks!
	+ The celebrations are happening out in the street even as early as midday. Food vendors are offering candied fruits, sweet drinks, spiced noodles, and grilled fish. Every corner of the island city seems to be a venue of some sort: music, dancing, juggling, and poetry recital abound. As the day presses on, the stories and the music get raunchier, and masked townsfolk, all draped in fine silks and jewellery, steal away into back alleys, kaf houses, or their own abodes for a time. When the evening is upon them, fire becomes the main attraction: fire eating, fire twirling and dancing, fire walking, and fire spitting displays light up the rapidly darkening streets. Burning paper lanterns are released from the canal waters and the whole sky seems filled with the colours of them. Smoke billows out of every open venue, music of a million sorts wafts through the streets, and the night is alive with the spirit of the revel.
	+ The industrious Emirati barbers are out in force, plying their trade to any who will allow. As the night presses on, one seduces Wilfred into his chair and begins to work on the gnome's beard and eyebrows.
		- The whole experience seems decadent in the extreme: his beard is creamed and washed, then Wilfred's face is wrapped in a warm towel for a minute, then another beard creaming, at which point the trimming begins. When that's done, the barber oils Wilfred, then moves to do some final touch ups with his straight razor. And he accidentally cuts the gnome's cheek.
		- The barber is mortified, bursts into a million apologies not only on his own behalf, but on behalf of the great profession of Emirati barbers. As he dabs Wilfred's face with a warm towel, he insists he doesn't pay anything.
		- The gnome turns to the others, worried for his appearance. Aerendyl gives him a quick *healing word* to sort out the little cut and all is well.
		- Except Pyt had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps it was not all well.
		- And when the group turn back to the man, he's gone. Disappeared into the crowd. Pyt and now Wilfred are suddenly concerned: there exist a number of things that could make use of his blood in malicious ways, should they have it. And some of those things had been actively pursuing the party.
		- The group try their best to enjoy themselves again, and periodically Wilfred checks back at the barbers station.
		- An hour or more later, the barber returns. The party quizzes him on what he did. Had he done it on purpose? What had he done afterwards? The barber is confused by his own thoughts, but yes, yes he thinks that he did cut Wilfred on purpose in fact, and had then walked to the docks and dropped the bloody towel in the water. He had no idea why he'd done such a thing, and again he apologises. Wilfred sighs, telling the man it is ok -- there was nothing he could have done about it.
	+ The group conclude that it was likely a *suggestion* by the sea fury or the River King. Aerendyl argues that a moonless week means it probably isn't the River King, but the others say that he's more powerful now so they didn't know the extent of his capabilities. In either case, if it was the River King, then it just means he was giving it to the sea fury anyway. So they could assume the fury now had not only Aerendyl's hair, but also Wilfred's blood.
	+ They try to enjoy the rest of the festival, but the moon has been soured somewhat.
* The next day, Fallingleaf 38, they head through the Saffron District of the city and go to the palace, for Ibn Qahbe was apparently taking petitions from anyone now. The group didn't even sleep, heading straight from the festival so that they'd be early and not have to queue. Even so, there was a sizeable chunk of the district's noble population who'd been able to get to the palace first, since their district was usually closed off to the rest of the city.
	+ The palace grounds are this beautiful enclave of vegetation and life. The walk up to the grand stone palace itself cuts through a vast and vibrant flower garden, with a waterway dotted with fountains running through the middle of the path. On either side, the walkway is lined with the city guards standing at attention.
	+ The trio of Aerendyl, Pyt, and Wilfred join the back of the queue, having left everyone else behind for this.
	+ They wait and wait, and an hour or more passes without them having made too much progress.
	+ Eventually, they notice that the guards seem to be talking about them in whispered tones. Some of the guards disappear into the palace, eventually returning with a pair of the black skinned, bald headed mamluks that were the royal guard.
	+ The mamluks approach the party and ask them if they are indeed members of the group that started the peasant revolt in the Rumidian Northern Margraviate -- they had been instructed to look out for a group consisting of an elf, half-elf, gnome, and goblin though, and the party seemed to be lacking the latter. After a brief hesitation, the trio confirmed that they were indeed those people. The mamluks nodded and told the party to come with them; the Emir, apparently, has been keen to speak with the group for a long time now.
	+ The party are escorted by the mamluks to the front of the queue, through a massive set of double doors, and into the high-vaulted royal chamber. Emir Ibn Qahbe sits in a throne of a raised dias at the far side of the room, the Mustashar adviser beside him, with two rows of ten halberd-wielding mamluks lining the red carpet approach.
	+ Emir Ibn Qahbe, a middle aged, copper skinned man draped in a motley of fine fabrics splashed in reds, silvers, and golds, weighed down by the jewellery draped all over him, smiled. He rose with alacrity and bid they step forwards with both his hands.
	+ 'The old bat,' he said, 'told be that I was forbidden to kill you should ever I see you. I was to capture you and to ship you to her, apparently.' His smile grew wider. 'But rarely have I been fond of doing what she tries to demand of me.' He was speaking of Shandy and her grudge against the party, an old grudge indeed at this point. But one she still apparently nursed. Still, Ibn Qahbe seemed chill and he was happy to meet the party, who had not only succeeded in pissing off Mother Shandy, but also in pissing off the Rumidian Empire.
	+ Ibn Qahbe asked them if they had any petitions for him, since that was indeed what he was offering currently, as celebration for the successful founding of his principality in truth. Wilfred asked him about getting a lineage log pin and Ibn Qahbe laughed. 'You really are an interesting bunch! That is a rare trinket indeed that you ask about! And you are not citizens of my city, so what is it you would offer me in exchange for such a boon?'
	+ As the group spoke aloud, contemplating the question, they mentioned the Hells and their many pieces of hellish equipment and their pretty substantial wealth (which they mentioned only to say they think Ibn Qahbe probably wouldn't be interested in it).
	+ With all these curious happenings around the group, Ibn Qahbe says he wants to remove some of the secrecy from the room -- he doesn't want to miss out on this fortuitous meeting being beneficial for both groups just because of wanton over-caution.
	+ And so Ibn Qahbe snaps his fingers and each of the mamluks' forms begins to shift and change. Their bodies swell in size and their grins start stretching across their faces, as all 20 of the mamluks stating to attention reveal themselves to be oni.
	+ Ibn Qahbe then drops the illusion he was wearing, revealing his face to be that of a tiger, and the palms of his hands to be reversed: Ibn Qahbe, former pirate lord and new emir of the island principality, was a rakshasa. The party didn't flinch, and Ibn Qahbe remarked well on it. Even transformed as he was, he maintained his calm, affable air.
	+ At that, he asked the group again if there was anything they'd petition of him, now with the knowledge that he was more than merely a rich man. Pyt hesitated for a moment and then told the emir that he wanted to find a genie to make a wish. Ibn Qahbe laughed again, said they truly were an interesting group, and then smiled knowingly. 'I think I can source you a genie of the sort you desire.' Pyt couldn't believe it, but Ibn Qahbe was dead serious. 'it will take me some time and arrangements must be made in the City of Brass, so it would take you offering me something substantial on your end. but yes, I believe I could do it.'
	+ So the party had two things they wanted from Ibn Qahbe now.
	+ The emir had a suggestion. There were many things he could do but that there was currently one thing that he badly wanted but wasn't really in a position to source himself: he wanted one of the shield guardian amulets worn by either of the Rumidian archmagi currently in the Southern Margraviate -- the amulets were, he said, some of the true treasures of Rumidia -- but he'd only just succeeded in his negotiations. He didn't dare send his own agents to try and steal from powerful Rumidians. This was a somewhat time-sensitive task, best suited to a small, capable group that couldn't easily be traced back to the Emir himself. He didn't care if they ended up killing the archmage, which one they targeted, or whether they they brought the shield guardian corresponding to the amulet with them or not -- though if they didn't bring it, they'd need to destroy it. If they do this task, Ibn Qahbe will do one of theirs in turn.
	+ Then Aerendyl flashes the iron flask to the rakshasa. The fiend's eyes light up. 'I do believe that's Old Mackerel's flask, is it not?' Again he laughed, fully shaking his head now, perhaps in disbelief. Aerendyl nodded, telling the field that they were indeed quite accomplished thieves in their own right, deftly avoiding the subject of the true fate of the Pirate Republic's witches. Ibn Qahbe agrees that the flask would be a suitable item for their deal.
* After that, the party and Ibn Qahbe just went over the particulars:
	+ The party's companions would remain in the Emirate of Spice while they went on their heist. For all intents and purposes, they would be the emir's hostages, to ensure no foul play on the party's side, though he anticipated only keeping them watched and nothing more. The party were to instruct them to remain in the city indefinitely, and should any of them try to leave, they would be forcibly detained.
	+ The party were permitted to take one of their associates with them on the task -- having argued that Cill would be useful.
	+ One of the mamluks, an oni named Tarik, would accompany the party on their mission. He would carry the iron flask now, the group were free to question him on his abilities and ask his assistance in the endeavour, but Tarik was not to betray the fact that he came from the Emirate of Spice, and the party were to ensure that as well. Tarik would also be able to report the group's failure in the task should it come to that, at which time the party's associates would them be free to leave the city once more.
	+ The party were advised to head out on this task in a swift manner, since Ibn Qahbe had no guarantee that the Rumidian Archmagi would remain in the Southern Margraviate for much longer.
	+ And under no circumstances was the true nature of Ibn Qahbe or his mamluks to leave that room. In turn, Ibn Qahbe vowed to not pass on the party's whereabouts.
	+ Upon their return with the shield amulet, with the linked guardian either destroyed or in tow, Ibn Qahbe would hopefully have already returned from the City of Brass -- somewhere he endeavoured to leave for imminently, to begin the work of sourcing their genie. The amulet and the iron flask would be passed over to Ibn Qahbe, and he would hand over the genie and then fashion the lineage log pin from Wilfred's blood.
* And with that, Ibn Qahbe and the mamluks assumed their human guises once more and the party departed, Tarik the secret oni going with them. The trio quietly concluded that they liked Ibn Qahbe a lot, and Pyt was very excited to try out his skill set in a heist scenario. Wilfred was less enamoured with the task that lay before them: either to face a living legend in the form of an elf older than the Kingdom of Rumidia, who had personally advised over a dozen of its monarchs and had been a founding member of the Circle of Magi, or to face the living embodiment of Rumidian anti-magic in the form of the Archmage of Abjuration, ostensibly the best abjuration-user of the age, while the trio themselves all favoured spellcasting above any other means of combat.