He breaks from Daiyanissa’s gaze and drops his eyes to the table. Long he stared at the woodwork, pondering the doom that had befallen him. His mind is confused and his thoughts dart hither and yon with a thousand questions and lamentations.

Some rays of sunlight shine through the far window and shine upon his holy symbol and the key that Daiyanissa left for him. He takes the eye-in-sunburst in his hand and heaves a sigh. As you will, my lord Horus.

He looks upon the key once more, takes it and stands. He marches over to Daiyanissa and gives it back to her. Still holding himself back Neshi does not meet her gaze with his own. He stands at attention, salutes her by thumping a fist against his breastplate and says, “Far be it from me to displace a lady such as thee” Sweeping his arms around the inn, he continues, “If this wayfarers’ house is of stone wrought and of wood, then this is rich fare indeed. Fret thou not, milady, for I have slept on far worse places than this--- nobles’ outhouses, nomads’ camel corrals and broken steppes and red sands..."

His face darkens once more. Neshi's brow twitches and his lip quivers. He shivers as he whispers, "Red sands, milady. You asked of my beloved... I awoke this morn to find all... all shattered. I awoke to a sky of shards and a sea of red sands... sand and shards..."

Snapping out of the pit of his gloom, Neshi sips from one of the proffered tankards and blurts out, “What sort of vile camel’s spit is this wrought of? There seems to be barley in here!”

Restraining his rage, he composes himself and says to all seated at the table, “I apologize for my rash words. I offer my thanks but shall decline. My Order only allows alcohol on New Moon festivals and Harvest-tide”

He reaches to his belt and brings forth his waterskin. Uncapping it, he takes only three reverent sips. Gazing into the eyes of the “party”, he boasts, “This, this be liquid gold! Life, it gives and withering rot, prevents”

The aroma of the food placed before him beckons once more. Turning once more to Daiyanissa, he asks, “True, is it, that ye’d not mind the giving of thy food? Certain, art thou? ‘Tis but half-eaten--- I feel like a fool if I’d take it from thee thusly… But then, starving men should not be choosers, true, but… I can still subsist upon my trail rations” At this, he reaches once more into his pack and takes out a fistful of black, withered strips of meat and smiles as he presents it to the gathering. “Is any amongst you desirious of dried snake?”