'You really weren't kidding about the pigeons,' said Elika, as they stepped through the curtain leading to the street a couple of hours later. Compared to the cool of the inside, the heat of the afternoon felt like a slap across her face. She stopped dead and involuntarily took a deep breath, a grave mistake on a busy highway of Shushan.

'Told you. Even the high priestess of Kiririsha has to wait two weeks to dine on them, so high is the demand,' the Prince said. His gaze darted up and down, looking for interested third parties, but he couldn't spot a single suspicious character in the mass of men crowding the street. He could see several pickpockets, whores, and a few folk who would sell their own mother for twinkling gold, but no one paid them any particular heed. He put a hand on the small of Elika's back and steered her towards the west end of the road, where the inner city lay.

'Somehow I find that hard to believe,' she chuckled.

'Well, he always has a few birds set aside for last minute orders, just in case. But he is well known in the city, and quite popular. Many a noble family offered to take him on, laying fat sacs of coin on the table as a fee, but he wouldn't hear of it.'

'More profit in serving everyone?' she asked. 'Where are we going by the way? Isn't the inn the other way?'

'Don't forget that the actual cooking is just half his trade, he makes a lucrative living as a middle-man between people who have problems to solve and problem-solvers.'

'You think he can help us?'

'Maybe. We have problems after all. Susa is a large city, and he has contacts all over the place. If we run into any trouble, he should be able to give you a hand. Now Khatu knows you, so if you come knocking, he won't turn you out.'

'Oh,' realization dawned on her. 'That's why you dragged me along?'

'Among other things. Khatu used to be a friend, as much as you can have one in this trade. Unless the situation was suicidal for him, he would help you. But I also wanted to treat you to a meal to remember, let's not forget that.'

'You have interesting friends,' she remarked, thinking of Agastya, Khatu, and, finally, herself.

'I lead a charmed life,' he said, with a wry smile. 'Watch your step.'

He used his elbows and shoulders to break through the crowd. It was well past-midday, but the chariot of Shamash still rode high in the sky. Though this was nowhere near as busy as at sunrise or sunset, the crowd was thick enough that it didn't automatically part before the enormous sword on his belt. Usually the good citizens had the sense to get out of the way of the armed and the rich, but with the press of bodies there was just nowhere to go. He watched his step, the men in front and behind, his purse, and not to forget, Elika; sharing his attention between the tasks of urban survival and chatting. The princess was trailing behind him, looking more and more overwhelmed by the crowd, her personal space assaulted from every direction.

'He lives pretty modestly then if he is so popular,' she observed.

'Khatu is smarter than he looks, he knows his luck will run out sooner or later and someone else will be the next best thing. He has been investing his earnings, both honest and otherwise, left and right: he is a minor partner in a dozen or so businesses.'

'Then why doesn't he move to somewhere cleaner and greener? I can't believe his house is what passes as prime real estate around here,' she made a vague motion encompassing their entire surroundings.

'And rub the smaller nobles' faces in the fact that a cook earns more than them? Maybe when he has the money to buy himself a title.' Elika looked pensive for a moment, filing away another bit of information for later processing. Then she shrugged, and turned to more important pending questions.

'You still haven't told me where you are dragging me –hey!' The last part was aimed at the owner of a sandaled foot that trod on her toes. The man walked on without a glance back, and Elika turned after him outraged. A dark skinned woman hauling a heavy clay jug filled with water almost walked into her, pushing Elika out of the way and cursing at her in the heavily accented dialect of Babylonian the denizens of Susa, or as they called it, Shushan used.

'Keep moving, or they will trample you,' the Prince said without much compassion. 'You gotta flow with the traffic.' He reached for Elika's hand and hers slipped into his automatically. 'We will turn right on the next corner!' he said over his shoulder, having to raise his voice over the increasing buzz of the people.

They were entering the inner city proper, where the already dangerously rickety two-floor buildings got topped with another floor of mud-bricks. The top two floors were sometimes covered with glazed ceramic plates, brightly colored to reflect the owners' profession and social status, and below, in the narrow side streets the masses flowed like rivers of heads, sweat and shouts. Every house had at least a window open with someone leaning out, hawking wares of every imaginable kind, claiming prices fit for beggars, with quality for kings. Eyes desperately scanning the crowd, the hawkers were looking for anyone slightly interested in a deal. Coins of a dozen nations exchanged hands for pots and knives, clothes and scarves, tools and food.

Grinning kids of ten were hauling ochre-painted jugs around, filled with water drawn from the city wells, flavored with lemon, offering drinks from clay mugs hanging from their belt for the tiniest silver scrap. Tugging on the robes of the passers-by, they offered their services to everyone, chanting short rhymes, making faces, anything to get the attention that could lead to a sale, knowing well the trashing they would get if they turned up home at the end of the day without the coin to show for their effort.

Thousands milled around in a faceless, nameless crowd in the bazaar streets of Shushan, and the Prince and Elika weaved their way through them. The smells of heavily spiced lamb wafting from an open window did not haze them; they were still full with the warm meal judiciously washed down with Khatu's wine.

The cavalcade of sounds, smells and sights were overwhelming for Elika, and when she just could not take it anymore, she yanked hard on the Prince's arm. 'I'm not moving another step until you tell me where are we going!' she said, loud enough to be heard over the background noise, but quiet enough not to share it with the entire street.

He stepped aside, pulling both of them next to the wall and leaned close to her ear. 'I am looking for a tailor for both of us. The sooner we order clothes, the sooner we can wear them!'

'Thank you,' she said, and an unsaid "finally" was clear from her tone. 'Would it hurt to share these plans with me beforehand?'

For a moment, the Prince felt like making a joke out of it, but the frustration was clear in his princess's voice. Instead he went with the ancient practice of men everywhere: when in doubt, apologize!

'Sorry. I will try better next time. We should find a tailor, a leatherworker for new sandals, and if we have time, I would like to look around for a top-notch armorsmith that could come up with something for you.'

'So I won't be naked all the time?' she asked, remembering their hurriedly exchanged words before the desert raiders were on them.

'Speaking of which, we could hit the baths on the way home, get clean and have a relaxing massage after.'

'I could kill for some hot water to soak in,' said Elika, agreeing fervently.

'Well, they usually ask payment in coin, but I will try to negotiate some assassination barter-deal for you,' laughed the Prince. Elika punched him playfully in the arm in response, and everything was alright again. It felt good to relax a bit, to be able to laugh and worry over the small things, instead of the big, soul-crushing reality of the task ahead of them. One step at a time, she thought. One step at a time.

'Let's get me some clothes then!' she said and threw her head, her hair falling behind her shoulders. The Prince smiled a warm smile at her, and took her by the hand again, leading her down another street.

They emerged two hours, five tailors later, with the Prince's pouch noticeably less bulging than before. Elika had very little concept of money on the day-to-day level, her education had only involved balancing the economy of a small, self-contained city state, not that of a household, and the valley didn't really have shops. Merchants were rare, and growing more scarce every decade, and the heir to the throne got what little the valley could offer without having to pay for it.

Not being used to the lack of money, or to using money to manage personal affairs at all, she didn't know how to spend it in style either, the Prince realized, unlike some other women he had the chance to escort through a bazaar. She went for the practical, but finely made, simple yet elegant. The cuts she had ordered bordered on boringly sensible; clothes for a merchant's wife for the road, rather than for a princess. All in all, he found the experience pleasantly goal-oriented, straightforward, and smooth, especially as compared to what he expected.

Though Elika did notice the silk and the velvet, she chose linen on purpose: light, unattractive and inconspicuous. She was no longer a king's adored daughter, but a toppled queen hunted by deadly foes. While she did make a mental note that at least one set of luxurious clothing should be acquired for state purposes, she went for things that allowed free movement and wouldn't draw attention. As things looked up these days, she felt she needed to be able to scale a wall more, than impress a foreign dignitary. Coming out of every workshop, followed by the assurances of the merchants that her clothes would be delivered by midday tomorrow the latest, she felt more and more aware of how sorry a state she was currently in. The heat of the masses added to the scorching rays of the sun, and her clothes stuck to her drenched in sweat. The novelty of the crowd wore off quickly, and was replaced by the desire to be somewhere quiet, cool, and preferably with a drink.

'I think I had enough for today,' she said to the Prince, when he asked if she wanted to visit the next tailor.

'You have everything you need?'

'I have more than I had, for sure. Enough to travel comfortably with, but not as much that I would need an extra pack horse.' The Prince nodded briskly in approval as she continued, his eyes forever darting over the crowd seeking who glances away, looking for familiar faces, and most of all, keeping his soul open to the familiar pang of cold deep inside, betraying the will of an enemy watching. 'Besides, I think I have been trodden upon, slammed into, felt up, and pushed over more times today than I cared to count. I would appreciate a gulp of peace and quiet. Are you listening?'

'Yes, sorry. Do you think you can hold out a little longer?'

'Depends, what do you have in mind?'

'As you are more or less the sole hope for the race of man, I very strongly feel that at least a set of light leather armor should be acquired before an assassin's dagger finds your heart. Nah-uh!' he lifted a silencing finger as she opened her mouth to protest. 'In this crowd, any determined agent of Ahriman could have knifed you. Me, by myself, can't really form a protective circle around you, now can I?'

'And you say this now?' she asked, indignant, and more than a little scared. She threw a glance around, to see if anyone was watching, if any eyes hid malicious intent, if anyone reached into their robes pulling death from the folds. The number of men that passed her within an arm's reach settled on her as a chilling reality.

'I'm reasonably confident, that we traveled faster than the news about us could have, unless through some mystical means. But sooner or later, we will have to stay in one place longer, where your enemies can and will find you.'

'It's a war, we fight,' said Elika, suddenly somber. The battle would come to them, the question was not "if" but "when". The Prince placed his palm on the small of her back, giving her the gentlest nudge to get moving.

'You are an amazing person,' he said, his voice full of admiration, as they walked through the crowd, riding its flow as driftwood rides a river.

'What did I do now?' she asked, confused.

'The things you say, the way you look at the world…' the Prince began, searching for words, murmuring softly in her ear as they slid through the mass of people gathered on the square. 'You are alone in a crowd of possible assassins, on the run, but you don't panic, don't retreat to the nearest sanctuary, just accept the reality. It's… really hard to explain.'

'There is no point in running back to the inn. Like you said, there is little chance that anyone wishes us more ill than what I expect is usual in a city like this. Better to get the shopping done now, while this is still the case.'

'You know how many women, or men for that matter would think like that? I dined with nobles and rulers, few and far between are those who would not send me to do the errands in their stead, were they in your position. You aren't brave because you misjudge the chances of things going wrong, like a hotheaded youth on a rowdy night, you are brave because you know what is at stake.'

'I still don't see what is the big deal about it,' said Elika, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

'No you don't, and that is why you are so unique. You were born for this, Nastaran. You don't deserve to have the responsibility you carry, but I cannot imagine anyone better suited for it. And the more I get to know you, the surer I am that it's no accident that you are who you are. There is a master plan behind the scenes, and that gives me hope that we will prevail,' he was whispering, but the conviction in his voice was clear enough nevertheless to pour heart in her.

'You are not going all mystic on me, are you? I thought that was my role.'

'I'm through with belief, dear. I have seen the gods, I fought them. I don't need faith to know there are forces larger than us at play,' he said, and his words rang true. And even though he was focused on Elika, keeping his volume down so only she could hear, his eyes were constantly moving, scanning everyone they passed. Being on high alert for hours was tiring, but the possible price for letting his guard down would have been too much to pay.

'Wouldn't have thought I would ever hear such talk from you.'

'We change, Elika. Sometimes we even grow.' She could only nod, probing her mind for words that could express the confusion she felt. She couldn't place this speech anywhere, couldn't decide what he had wanted. It dawned on her that earlier this morning, the Prince was serious when he said that he would try to be more honest with her. For her. And an honest Prince was still a disconcerting experience.

'Have you ever worn armor?' he asked suddenly, changing the topic, his tone smooth as butter, as if the heated words were blown away by the desert wind.

'Well… I had a padded leather vest, complete with shoulder guards and a helmet for practice, but apart from that none.'

'I think we can rule out metal in your case, you wouldn't be able to move even in a light bronze chestplate, not to mention if it was made of copper.'

'What about iron? Your sword is light enough for its size.'

'Iron armor is incredibly hard to make, as it's not a single hammered plate, but tens of thousands of chains linked together. And while iron chain takes cuts better than a bronze plate, a spearman can skewer you easily. It takes weeks to create. It's lighter than bronze, and harder as well, but still would weigh almost as much as you do, and would be rather inconvenient to wear for outings like these. Metal is for battle, not everyday streetwear.'

'Unfortunately, I seriously expect meeting armed opposition, like in the desert, where donning something solid would give me a measure of safety,' she pointed out. 'But I agree with you, metal seems impractical for day-to-day, how about something hidden. If someone stabs me,' she gulped, 'I would rather have him realize in surprise that I was wearing armor, than let him know beforehand so he can be prepared for it.'

'If it's up to me, you don't go anywhere near battles ever again, but being prepared couldn't hurt. An iron chain mail would cost a fortune, especially as it would have to be fitted to your rather spectacular figure and not to the one-size-doesn't-quite-fit –all grunt stereotype that an armorer might have ready, but for now we are good with coin. Also I'm completely with you on hidden armor, something made of hard leather. Leather stops cuts and slows down stabs, and while under it your bones still break, and you get a hell of a bruise from a hard hit, you would live. Wearing something like that would mean wearing bulkier clothes, possibly robes, because your current outfit is just too tight to conceal anything.' He said, then added hurriedly, 'Not that I mind, quite the opposite.'

They came to a halt on a wider square in the market district. In the centre stood a well, its bobbing crane being lifted by two young men to pour water into the wide trough next to it. Up and down, up and down the crane went while women, and some men, all carrying buckets, jars and amphorae pushed and shoved to get to the trough. The square itself was lined with blacksmith's workshops, armor and weapon merchants. The crowd of the bazaar, though it had thickened since they started their shopping trip, could spread out a bit here, leaving some breathing space for the Prince and Elika. The Prince picked up two oranges for a piece of bronze, tossed one to his companion, and started peeling his own.

'I can't really wear robes, or those heavy skirts like her,' she pointed at a baker's wife passing them, heading for the trough. 'My biggest advantage is my mobility. I can jump higher and run faster than most men, even without the aid of, you know. But we could work with some elaborate vest reaching just below the waist.'

The Prince tried to form a mental image, and nodded. 'It would need sufficient embroidery to distract from its true function, maybe something with lots of folds that lead the eye astray.'

'Saw something at one of the tailors that would work perfectly,' she mentioned.

'When they deliver tomorrow, we can have a quiet word with them, I don't think they would turn down more work. But for now, let's get some protection!' he said and started towards the nearest merchant.

Shop to shop, they walked around the square, inspecting wares, asking for quotes and haggling, haggling, always haggling. After the first two twenty-minute sessions, Elika just beelined for a stool in every shop they entered, and sat down resting her feet, leaving the negotiations to the Prince. While she had no concept of how much a silver coin was worth, she understood that the cheapest bronze plate cost more than all her clothes purchased this afternoon together. After a two-hour torturous ordeal, made especially awkward by the fact that most stores of this ilk had no maidservants to take measurements on a lady, they finally placed all their orders, some with a delivery date of just three days, some, like her chainmail, almost two weeks. The Prince spread the money around generously, promising extra coin for early completion, but you could buy only so much speed. Metal still needed to be forged, leather needed to be cured. When the last deal was closed, they were the proud would-be owners of two light iron mails, with matching leather vests under to spread the force of the hits, and a light leather vest for Elika, with thin bronze plates sewn between the two layers of cured gazelle-skin. It would stop a swordcut and slow down an arrow, if not much more. A leather helmet was also produced from the back of the shop by one of the armorers, ordered for someone's son, but never picked up, that fit Elika perfectly. They left the name of the inn they were staying at with every merchant, and promised to pay the advance in the morrow if they came calling.

'Do we have enough gold to cover all this?' she asked when they finally left the armorer's plaza behind. The blistering heat of the early afternoon was gone, and the city sighed in relief. People flooded the streets, making the crowd they had faced before pale in comparison.

'Enough to arm a small army,' he said confidently. More sensing, than actually seeing her raised eyebrow, he added, 'Really. We could arm at least forty and then feed them for a year.'

'And imagine if you hadn't only had Farah but twenty more donkeys when robbing that grave…' she said, thinking of swordsmen to make traveling safe, couriers to bring news to all the corners of the world, nobles that could be bribed, if they had enough gold.

'So now that you actually have use for money, desecrating tombs is an acceptable way of making a living?'

'I did not say that,' she protested immediately.

'It just doesn't matter, where the gold is coming from as long as it pays for noble goals?' His ribbing was good natured, but it still stung Elika.

'I do not approve of ill-gained moneys in any way, shape, or form, but if we happened to have more of it, it would come in handy.'

'Doesn't gold always do,' sighed the Prince wistfully. Then, he cleared his throat, and continued, 'but I did hear it right then, that you admitted that money has no provenance.'

'You hear what you want to hear, but I said no such thing,' she said haughtily,

'Uhum,' he grinned infuriatingly smug.

'You are simply a bad influence on me.'

'I corrupt all the girls,' he said, and the grin faded from his face. 'Sorry, wrong choice of word.'

Elika shivered involuntarily. 'No matter how far we run, Ahriman will be only a step behind, always casting his shadow on us. What's your big plan?' she asked, her voice businesslike again.

'Get you to a bath,' he replied seriously. The thought of the dark god eclipsed his good mood as well.

'I mean for after…'

'Tomorrow. We save the world tomorrow.' Seeing Elika hesitating, he added. 'I promise. Let it rest for tonight.'

'Alright. But no more games, tricks, surprises. We make a plan and stick to it,' she said, sternly.

'Your wish is my command, Princess,' he said, with a mock salute, stopping dead in the middle of the street. Someone shouted something behind them, but he didn't care. He never had. He just fell back in step, one hand always resting near his sword, his eyes always scanning, faces, rooftops, side streets for signs of trouble, but never able to stay away from Elika.

'Didn't I tell you not to call me that?' she asked.

'Frequently, as I recall.' He nodded, eyes twinkling. Elika just sighed with the practice of a martyr.

'You know you really shouldn't draw attention to us like that.'

'There is no more danger around than what comes from being in a big city. And besides, I'm being cautious, even if it doesn't look like it.'

'I will just take your word for that, or you would talk my ears off,' she said, and smiled despite herself.

'That's the smart attitude of a ruler. You and I, we will go far together.' He said.

'Oh I don't doubt that. You already managed to drag me across a desert.'

'Hey, at least I got you to the nearest market, like I promised. Not my fault that it was so damn far!' he protested.

'You did indeed. Though you forgot to mention in your description, you know, the smell.'

'Nothing's ever good enough for women,' he sighed theatrically. 'And as for the smell, if we take a left here, we can solve that. At least the part that's coming from us,' he pointed at the next corner, where the stone-bound road split into two.

'Coming from you, you mean? I smell like roses, and rainbows,' she took the neck of her shirt in her hand, and waved it, which was a mistake judging from the expression running across her face. 'Alright, from us,' she conceded. 'How does bathing work here, anyway?' she asked, following the Prince, as he pushed his way through the congestion.

'You will see.' he answered over his shoulder. He was wishing he hadn't left the gauntlet at home, it would have had come in handy in breaking way. He remembered Susa was busy, but not this busy. He was far from an expert on Kiririsha's holidays, so he could only guess whether this sudden influx of people was due to any religious reasons. Then, he saw why they could barely move; two noblemen, both on horseback, surrounded by a ring of armed guards were discussing in the middle of the small square formed where the three roads met. As usual, he thought, bitterness rising in him. He became aware of Elika shouting at his back and shook off the weight of memories.

'Are you even listening to me?'

'Of course I am!' he said, like countless men before.

'Like hell you were –Hey, watch your step!' she shouted, her ire directed at the youth walking straight into her, and shoving past without even muttering an apology. The Prince's eyes narrowed for a second, looking for the quick hand movement of a pickpocket, realizing only too late that the money they had on them was safely resting inside his shirt. He reached for Elika's hand and pulled her after himself, trying to get through the throng.

'You were saying?' he asked, looking ahead, pushing and shoving.

'I said you are not pulling that "you will see" crap on me again. I want to be forewarned this time.'

'Let's get through this first and then I will explain, alright? Say, you don't wanna fly us out of here?' Elika seriously considered his request for a second. She imagined crouching and calling the magic to her, just to launch into the air riding the wings of Ohrmazd with the Prince's arms encircling her, like so many times before.

'It's very tempting, but I will pass. It would seriously violate the 'let's remain low-key' policy we set up.'

'You think there would be witnesses?' he asked.

'I don't see anyone around, but let's play it safe,' she said sarcastically.

The crowd thinned out once they left the intersection behind, and the Prince launched into an explanation about the public bathhouses of Susa.

'As you can see and smell, the overwhelming majority of the locals only attends to the religious duties, ritual foot and hand washes once a month. Thankfully there are other options available for people with more refined tastes. There is a series of pools going from hot to cold to refresh the bloodflow, and strengthen the heart. We can also rent a couple of bathtubs and be scrubbed down and pampered by servants. There are also extra services available, if you catch my drift.'

'I can imagine,' she said though she had little actual idea. Prostitution was not a part of life in the Valley, neither the religious, nor the profit oriented type. But she would have swallowed her own tongue before asking questions about the topic, especially of the Prince. 'If this is some trick to get me naked…' she started in a warning tone, shutting out the myriad people still milling around them, as they slowly made their way towards the bathhouse chosen by the rogue. There was an anonymity in crowds, she realized. Words that would have made her die of embarrassment if she had said them in a room with three, didn't bother her in a street filled with hundreds.

'Then I would be back at the inn with you, slowly exploring every inch of your skin.' He cut in. 'Seriously, Nastaran, cut me some slack. I'm not a fifteen year old horndog scaling roofs just to peek at bathing girls. At least not anymore.'

'I am so choosing to ignore that.' She said. 'Also, you are inconsistent in calling me Nastaran, you know that. You called me on another name several times before.'

'Only after looking around!' he protested.

'Names do have power, like you once said. Not only mundane ears are a threat,' she said. He looked like he was about to argue, but thought better of it.

'You are right. I'm sorry.'

'He can be wrong! Wonders never cease!'

'Don't push it,' he warned, mock-serious.

'And what should I call you? Tera or Shabhaz?' she asked, changing the topic.

'Shabhaz is fine, unless you have a reason to think I would prefer to be called Tera. I will try to cue you in. I don't think that "Tera" left behind many enemies, but let's not poke the sleeping dragon, if we don't have to.'

'Don't you get headaches about this stuff? Webs of lies and deception everywhere. Wouldn't honesty be easier?'

'And more dangerous as well. I don't make the rules, I just play them to win.' He shrugged and pointed ahead.

'We are heading there.'

The bathhouse stood apart from its brightly painted neighbors with its wide, white, two-story facade of exquisitely carved limestone. The only entrance was a winged gate, wide open, leading to a small, tiled hall. Only the upper level had draped windows, and steam snaked out of some. The Prince gently took hold of Elika's wrist, stopping her, just before the entrance.

'So what should it be? Massages, baths, steam, what's your poison?' he asked arching an eyebrow.

'You go ahead and set it up. I trust you,' she answered, smiling with a confidence she did not have.