Hadian was not as familiar with the routine that Ridahne and Darin had fallen into when it came to breaking camp (they'd gotten very efficient at it) but he was a good hand at figuring out how to be helpful, when to stay out of the way, and how to manage horses. He even took a moment to introduce himself to Talbot as he studied the plow horse. Certainly different than the quick, sleek Azurei breeds, he noted. But a good temperament. It was good to see Tsura again too. He was never really Hadian's, though he'd ridden him plenty of times. He had always worked best under Ridahne's hand, because they were of similar cloth, as the Azurei saying went, and understood one another. 

Ridahne looked up from her own saddle straps to flash Darin a wicked grin. Her expression was knowing, as if she had an idea or two about why Darin had asked to introduce herself to the Sols. Evidently, it pleased her in some grim, deeply justified kind of way. "It would be an absolute thrill to watch [I]that[/I] interaction. Yes, please do..." She laughed a little, perhaps a bit darkly, as she checked the final saddle strap. 

Halyih did not wear a saddle, but instead was draped with a soft blanket with shell-beaded tassels, dyed a reddish orange color like the hue of the sands, so Hadian was waiting for them when they finished. "I'd sort of...wanted to see that too, if I'm honest. The Sols are a force to be reckoned with, but..." he looked between the two women and snorted a little, shaking his head. "If the palace does not crumble in the wake of your verbal storm, I'll call it a victory." He was teasing, but good naturedly. "But I think I'll leave you two as we pass Atakhara. My wife will hang me out to dry if I don't give her some warning that she's going to be hosting the Seed Bearer of Astra. We'll keep your presence here a secret, though. It will probably come out anyway," he said with a resigned sigh, "But it won't be because of me."

The trio mounted and rode along the seaside until a flag, whipping in the coastal wind, appeared on the horizon. Ridahne explained that roads--paved with stones or densely packed and maintained dirt paths--were rare in Azurei. "It's hard to follow a road if the wind blows sand all over it," she explained. "We post flags to mark the way instead." And when they passed it, Ridahne explained how to read the symbols that were woven into it. If one was familiar with Ojih, it would be easy to then determine without explanation that the symbols were distinctly Azurian. They were not the same symbols, but like handwriting, it carried a certain signature that made it easy to identify. 

It was a difficult ride. Ridahne insisted on a slightly slower pace than they might have pressed up north, and as the sun rose higher in the sky, it became quickly evident why. The sun pressed down on the land with an intensity not found in the north, and the wind felt more like dragon's breath than a cool breeze. She also stopped and let the horses graze if there was any vegetation along the way that would be good for them to eat. There were cactuses too, and varieties that were not found on the Orosi side of the desert. One of these, Ridahne dismounted to inspect, slicing off a bulbous yellow growth from one plant. Both the plant and the fruit were prickly, but Ridahne knocked off the spines of the fruit with the edge of her blade and a skill born of many years practice. 

"Don't eat this," she told Darin. "But if you peel open the thick skin, its gooey inside. Squeeze that out and rub it on your skin, especially your face and shoulders. It will help keep them from burning." 

Along the way, Hadian pointed out rip tides and told Darin about how to avoid them, or what to do if she was caught in one. The siblings told her the names of small lizards or rodents that peeked out at them from their sandy burrows, and shied away at the sight of Mitaja. They did pass Atakhara sometime in the afternoon. At that time of day, it was oddly still and quiet, and most people were inside or lurking under tattered awnings. The village itself was truly humble. Homes were made of mud bricks and layered palm fronds, with cloth hangings for doors or windows, and were very, very small. Everyone's kitchens seemed to be outside rather than inside the house, and every pot and jar had to have a tight fitting lid to keep out the ever present haze of dust that hung in the air as people moved about, or as the wind blew through. The dust gave everything a monochrome, washed out sort of look. The village blended into the seaport, which was slightly busier than the residential area but still quiet for a port in daylight. A thriving market, filled with colorful stalls and wafting scents of fresh fish, pungent spices, and roasting meats lay at the edge of the seaport. Hadian split off to return home to his wife, but Ridahne skirted around the whole town rather than traveling directly through it. She would reveal herself soon, but not yet. 

The sun was low and reddening by the time the palace came into view. There was one little village between Atakhara and Tasen, though it seemed much the same as Atakhara. Dusty, poor, and dilapidated. Ridahne avoided it too. Tasen was more lively though, and evidently more prosperous. The city had easier access to fresh water, which meant its residents had to spend less time fetching it and more time being productive. Tasen was a center for art and music, both of which pervaded the streets like the reach of the wind, flowing and ever present. Still, the palace could not quite be considered opulent by human standards, at least when it came to royalty. Of course, the marble structure was huge in comparison to everything else, and the craftsmanship put into its arched doorway was eloquent and superb. But it lacked the kind of overflowing sense of excess usually found in the palaces of human royalty. Yet, when one considered the context of the land it was placed upon, and the relative display of wealth and importance it showed in contrast to the homes of the nearby citizens, it was stately and magnificent in its own way. 

It did not take long before the pair was accosted by two pairs of taja, who came at them with weapons drawn. Their demeanor was aggressive immediately, but they did allow Ridahne to speak. They stood as firm as carved statues, though just before entering Tasen, Ridahne had at last revealed the banner she'd commissioned in Orosi. Her own standard. The fabric rippled in the wind, and each of them subtly kept trying to sneak glances at it, studying it. There was a long, tense moment as they studied her Ojih, too. They'd expected the mark between her brows, but the others....? They couldn't read them. And while they tried to puzzle out what this meant, Ridahne said with a confidence that would shake mountains and still the sea, "I am Ridahne Torzinei, Sol-Slayer, eija-alihn, Oathbreaker, Traitor. I seek the Sols." 
"Come to finish the job, Sol-Slayer?" One snarled coldly. 
Ridahne lifted her chin. "They know of my purpose. They will want to see us." 

The [I]us[/I] made each of them flick their attention to Darin. They did not know outright who Darin was, but more than one of them had a decent guess. They nodded slowly. "You will come." It was not a request. The four of them surrounded the pair, two in front and two in back. They were as much an escort to the Sols as a visible warning to those milling around nearby (who were now staring or openly jeering at Ridahne) to mind their own business. When they reached the stairs of the palace, one taja said, "You will dismount and leave your horses here." Two more taja and a pack of eija had joined the group, but Ridahne gave a small nod to Darin as if to tell her it was safe to leave the horses. The animals were immediately brought water. The Azurei, after all, loved and valued horses dearly. "Make no mistake," the man said to Ridahne. "You will be watched. One sudden move, one flash of steel--"
"I did not come to kill anyone, Taja-Uvaru." Her confidence and the use of his name silenced him, like he'd forgotten that once they'd dined together. 

The palace was abuzz. There was a formidable pack of warriors forming around the pair, all of them with their weapons either drawn or hands resting on their hilts. But outside that throng there were others moving about, conveying messages, flitting in and out of lengthening shadows. What training Ridahne had, evidently they all received a similar sort. Ridahne took in a long, slow breath and looked to the arched doorway. "I'm ready," she said to both herself and to Darin. And so, flanked by a dozen warriors, the pair headed inside. 

The marble and granite floor showed signs of heavy wear over the ages in high-traffic areas; just before the five thrones was a very smooth, slight depression where countless feet had scuffed and knees had knelt and worn away even the stone. Carved stone pillars stood like frozen white trees on either side of the wide hall. At the end of the hall was a small dais, a mere raised platform on which sat five carved wooden chairs with indigo cushions. Directly in front of the dais was a shallow pool lined with  a mosaic of blue ceramic tiles; Ridahne approached this immediately and stooping down, she cupped water in her slender hands and cleaned her face with it. A moment before she finished, a young page was at her side to offer out a small hand towel to even her, the most notorious criminal in Azurei. The ritual itself was sacred as well as practical. After travel, it was customary to wash ones ojih before seeking an audience with the Sols, so that the true nature of their life story and their souls could be bared for the world to see. Ridahne stepped back and finally lifted her eyes to the five figures seated in those chairs. Four she recognized, but one she did not. [I]So, they've replaced Khaltira...[/I] The younger successors of each Sol stood like elegant statues behind their respective mentor, but the youngest Sol did not have one, not yet. Ridahne did not deign to speak first, though for a while, neither did the Sols. However, Ridahne realized that they were studying the two of them, and their expressions shifted from deeply grave to a veiled reverence. 

It was not hard to tell who the Sota-Sol was. None of them wore crowns, and all their clothing was equally fine and well made. But one gray haired woman had an unmistakeable air of command above even the other four. She spoke, and her tone was lofty. "Ridahne Torzinei. I banished you from Azurei on pain of death, except if you fulfilled the task you set out to do. The task which you were spared to complete." There was almost a warning here, but it faded as she looked more fully at Darin. Her gaze was the weight of mountains and the heat of the sun, the tempest of the sea. Unflappable, unshakeable, cold, though not unkind. And wise, too. The others, though lesser than she, had a similar effect, and it was easy to see why people spoke of them with some mixture of reverence, respect, love, and fear. The youngest one, the one who replaced Khaltira, leaned forward in her chair a little as she squinted at Ridahne's ojih. Tilting her head as if in some understanding and some curiosity, she sat back. The Sota-Sol spoke again. "You were not unwise enough to walk back through these doors without reason." It was both a statement and a question, but Ridahne did not speak. The elderly woman's cold, stately gaze was still fixed on Darin. Was that a flicker of disbelief in her ochre eyes? "Child," she began. Darin was no child, but to an elf so ancient as the Sota-Sol of Azurei, most everyone was in her eyes. "Are you the Seed-Bearer of Astra we have heard rumor of?" How very Azurian to be so direct so quickly. Despite this bluntness, there was an air of reservation about all five of them, like they had yet to decide how they judged the entire situation and Ridahne's place in the world.