A month went by like the departing of clouds after a brief sunshower since Lenne's first vocal lesson for the song with the new tune. Just when she thought that the lessons would go on forever, Esmana concluded them unexpectedly one day on the grounds that she and her peers had, to a certain extent, succeeded in mastering the song. A day later, they were all ushered to embark on a sea voyage of clandestine purpose towards a city somewhere in the south-western region of Spira. Their sailing ship tussled with powerful southerly gale and storms bringing tidal surges for nearly all the twenty days since they set sail, making the journey even coarser for an entourage unaccustomed to the erratic life at sea.
By the twenty-third day, Lenne found herself seated on a bench at the deck with the rest of her peers, resigned to the ship's nauseating wobbly motions and desperate to reach the end of the journey. She was quiet, had been since the eighteenth day, as her eyes searched for traces of habited land where the ship would be allowed to dock.
It was nearing the tenth hour when a sailor climbed the raised platform at the far left end of the deck to reach a telescope. "We're almost there!" he observed, evoking sighs of elation from almost all those on board.
Lenne peered once again towards the wide sea until the silhouette of a floating city was taking shape in her line of sight. Its construction was gradually becoming well-defined as the ship was drawing nearer to its port. In appearance, the city was not unlike Zanarkand or other metropolises Lenne had been to but there were distinguishable elements about it: the mechanically stirred buildings and the Machinas loitering liberally in the streets amid living persons as if they were alive themselves.
A group of officials arrived to greet them with features that banished any sliver of doubt about whose territory that the city belonged to. The leading official was a man not older than thirty-five years of age with a scar on his face that cut through the bridge of his nose from under one eye to the other. He was clothed in an attire that Lenne found to be odd: a crimson red sleeveless jumpsuit, beneath a light brown vest fastened by yellow harnesses that were connected to the belt around his waist. Similar to those with him, he had sunny blonde hair lighter than Shuyin's, and a pair of forest green eyes with spiral pupils.
"Famlusa du Baaj," the leading man said with open arms. "It means 'welcome to Baaj' in the Al-Bhed language," the man clarified when his gesture of friendliness was met with looks of confusion among Lenne's party.
Lenne noted the hints of tension on Esmana's smile. "Thank you, Lord…?"
"You can call me Joud," the man answered, offering his hand to the instructor.
Esmana grabbed hold onto him and climbed out of the ship to the dock with slight uneasiness.
"Thank you, Lord Joud. I believe Lord Yevon is here for quite a while and is awaiting our presence?"
"Yes, he is," Joud nodded, before motioning with his hand for them to resume their walk as they converse. "But he wants you and your retinue to be well rested ahead of your meeting tomorrow. It has been a long journey, no? And it would be an excellent opportunity for you to look around our city and for us to be acquainted with one another."
"Very well then," Esmana easily concurred, sounding relieved that a momentary resting period for her sore limbs and dizzy spells had been granted.
Joud made a slight turn to his back and did a sweeping motion with his curled palm, calling for a man in a yellow and green jumpsuit who came in haste. "Ec Gul ehvunsat uv draen ynnejym? [Is Gul informed of their arrival?] " he queried, unintelligible to the non Al-Bhed ears around him but severe enough in tone for them to understand the scope of him authority in the city.
"Oac, Cen. Fa ryja nyteuat ran [Yes, Sir. We have radioed her]."
Joud nodded his approval. "Caa dryd dra pacd uv uin allussutydeuhc yna bnubanmo ynnahkat vun dras [See that the best of our accommodations are properly arranged for them]."
The man in yellow and green jumpsuit saluted with a raised hand to his head, then left to fulfil the duty he was assigned with.
Lenne was trailing not far behind her instructor and the lead official, watching with intrigue as their exchanges with one another and with the man in yellow and green jumpsuit unfolded. Vastly travelled she may be, owing to her career as a celebrated songstress, but she was not all knowing. There were many things about Spira that she was still unfamiliar with, and the Al-Bheds was one of many. "Your language… they sound difficult to study and speak," she remarked, thinking aloud.
"Yes, it is. We have numerous volumes of promptuaries as references to master the language," Joud said with apparent pride for his heritage. "I'll gift some of them to you. We'll also have time to talk more about it later. I'm interested to know what a famous songstress such as yourself will think about it."
"You know about me?" Lenne countered, somewhat surprised.
Joud chuckled, eyes squinched with friendliness. "Of course! We may be far off in the southwestern sea but we're not removed from the rest of Spira. I think you'll find yourself among many admirers here."
Not far from the port, where Joud guided them to, a 'Hover' station – a curious Machina-powered mode of transportation – was operating in its busiest hour. Staying true to his words about familiarizing his guests with the Al-Bhed way of living, he let one of the chief technicians at the station elaborate on the functionalities of the vehicle, along with the methods and materials used to construct them. Listening to the experts assuaged the reservations Lenne had about riding the Hovers, which she quickly learned was the main aim of the tutorials.
They rode the Hovers in groups of four, crossing paths with more Al-Bheds dressed in the strange fashion of jumpsuits and goggles that Lenne supposed were only used while welding Machinas. This shifted as they entered the easternmost part of the city where the lodging quarter was sited; non Al-Bheds clad in characteristic Spiran garments could be seen signing into inns of their choice.
"You have a lot of visitors," Lenne noted, stepping out of the Hover at a designated station in the quarter.
"We receive visitors all year round. The Machinas we use in the city attract quite a number of inquisitive onlookers. Others come to study the arts of Machina building," Joud said and started leading their way towards the northernmost part of the quarter.
He brought them to an inn that was five-storey tall and never fixed in shape. It twisted and turned as if someone was coiling it like a rope without hindering the internal operations of the building. At times, Lenne thought her eyes were playing tricks on her as she watched it changing shape. The man with the yellow and green jumpsuit was waiting by the entrance doors and was eager to assist them with carrying their luggage.
Joud spoke to the innkeeper, "Yna dra nuusc yd dra rekracd vmuun hacahjat vun dras yc e kyja ehcdnildat [Are the rooms at the highest floor reserved for them as I have instructed]?"
"Oac, Cen. Fa ryja ymcu bnabynat mihlr vun draen eh-nuus tehehk [Yes, Sir. We have also prepared lunch for their in-room dining]."
Joud smiled briefly, "Aqlammahd. Canja tehhan yd dra rymm [Excellent. Serve dinner later at the hall]."
He had excused himself soon after, leaving Lenne and her party to settle down and rest in their respective rooms. Unlike her instructor and peers, Lenne was restless. Her body would not be stilled and her mind was brimming with questions. She was counting the hours to the beginning of dinner and was the first to arrive at the dining table. The Machina waitpersons captivated her as much as the Al-Bhed diet of beans and varieties of whole meat.
"Our people need as much protein as they can to build these Machinas and perform excavations at the Sanubia sands," Joud explained. He went on to talk even more about the Al-Bheds: how the arts of Machina making was founded; the number of tribes dispersed all over Spira and their whereabouts; their language and differences in accent spoken by different tribes.
Malin, a peer of Lenne who had high cheekbones and a thick set of red eyebrows that matched her red hair, asked with caution, as if afraid of causing offense, "Why are the Al-Bheds incredibly… divided?"
"Different standpoints and alliances," Joud answered. His eyes had taken a distant look.
"Not even Machina building could bridge the differences?"
"Machina building is the only thing that keeps us Al-Bheds together… though this too is arguable," Joud took a sip from his drink and scrunched his face at the after taste. "What we'll be doing tomorrow… none of the other tribes would agree to it."
Silence fell over the table. Lenne exchanged glances with Esmana and her peers, unsure of what to make from Joud's remark.
"Well! Let's end the dreary discussion and simply enjoy the rest of the night, shall we?"
Joud would not let them dwell on it.
A new day began, with heavy showers of rain falling at the first light of dawn, clouding the city of Baaj in a cold mist. Joud's words from the previous night were starting to make sense to Lenne as she stood before an edifice that seemed misplaced in the midst of all the Al-Bhed novelty. It was a temple, appearing to be untouched by time and situated at the foot of a stone stairway leading to the city's seat of government.
"We're the only tribe that still worships," Joud enlightened. "We worship those from the sea and fire."
"Sea and fire?" Lenne heard Esmana repeat. "Aren't they rather… contradictory?"
It was hardly baffling that the instructor would ask such a query, for in Zanarkand, people worshipped those from the sea and sky because they believed in the harmony of the elements.
A pleasant smile softened the light in Joud's eyes. "Contradictions are essential to us for all earthly things to grow and endure."
The conversation was cut short as the doors to the temple bolted open, and out came a woman who saluted Joud unwaveringly, "Famlusa, Cen. Lreavdyeh Gul yht Mumt Yevon yna fyedehk ehceta [Welcome, Sir. Chieftain Gul and Lord Yevon are waiting inside]."
Joud ushered them into the temple, while the woman shadowed behind as a guard. They walked by a chamber where Joud made a short prayer to the six statues representing those worshipped from the sea and fire, then carried on through a labyrinth of cloisters, until they reached an antechamber at the far back of the temple. Here, they found Yu Yevon engaged in a discussion with a woman dressed in a garment that was barely covering her torso; an intricate tattoo of a blue flame marked her skin from her chest to her upper belly.
"Ah. Welcome all of you," the woman greeted, moving away from Yevon. "I hope Joud has been a pleasant company so far," she said, teasingly flashing a smile to Joud.
"He has been exceptionally helpful, my lady," Esmana replied, bending herself down.
"Oh, please! Just call me Gul!" the woman insisted. When her eyes strayed to Lenne, a look of excitement dawned on her face. "Lenne! I can't believe it! You're really here!"
Clasping Lenne's hands in hers, the woman spoke with such thrill that she could barely control the high pitch in her voice. "I'm a huge fan! Oh how I wish I had more spare time to visit Zanarkand. I would, if I could, just to attend your concerts!"
Lenne could not find words to say in return. Her chance to do so was swiftly seized by Yevon who said, "Our doors are always open for you and your people, Gul."
The woman named Gul's eagerness wore down, and she smiled flatly. "But we all know that people like us rarely have time to do so, don't we?" she said, repositioning herself to his side. She gave him a nod, as if urging him to do what needed to be done.
Yevon came closer to Lenne and her party. He traced all of them in silence, with his almond-shaped eyes which shone with compassion and firmness. He was holding his hands together as if in a meditative state. His bearing was regal, enough for even outsiders like Gul and Joud to gaze at him with reverence. The sight of him never fails to stupefy and intimidate Lenne.
"Thank you for coming all the way here… and I apologize that I've asked you all to do it without telling you why," he said with a note of humility. "But… believe me when I say that Zanarkand and the people who believe in its cause will always be in your debt for the task that you'll be doing here today."
Lenne saw Esmana squirm, reflecting her own uneasiness. "What do you aim to achieve with our help here… Lord Yevon?" the instructor probed, voicing the haunting question since they set foot in the city.
Yevon offered her no answer, and went to grab a spectre from a nearby table instead. He led them to a door which opened to a courtyard overlooking the sea and told them, "You'll sing the song with the new tune here and I'll dance… like I always do."
Gul approached him, appearing troubled. "Yna oui cina oui naymmo fyhd du tu drec? Drao'na kuehk du veht yht Zanarkand femm pa eh dnuipma [Are you sure you really want to do this? They're going to find out and Zanarkand will be in trouble]."
Her speech may be a mere collection of incomprehensible words to untrained ears, but Lenne could tell that they were ominous. She could see Joud shifting his weight from one foot to another, arms crossed against his chest.
"So baubma yna eh tyhkan, Gul. So ledo ec luhcdyhdmo ihtan drnayd. E ryja du tu cusadrehk du bnudald dras [My people are in danger, Gul. My city is constantly under threat. I have to do something to protect them]," Yevon maintained.
Gul backed away, no longer looking to persuade Yevon to rethink his decision. Yevon motioned Lenne and her party to assume their positions several distances behind him. Without any sign or further instruction from him, their singing was on hold. They waited… until another man joined them at the courtyard. Lenne recognized him as Kipu, a former minister of the arts who resigned to become a priest at the temple in the Zanarkand Dome.
Why is he here?
"I've prayed," Kipu said with his eyes watering. "And I'm more certain than ever that it is what I'm meant to do." He was radiating with the willpower of unbreakable mountains.
Yevon was moved. A tear or two might have been shed. "Thank you, Lord Kipu."
Kipu sat cross-legged on the cobblestoned courtyard some few paces away from the last line of Lenne's party, eyes set onto Yevon like a novice reciting sacred texts to his heart. Yevon returned his focus back to the sea and raised his sceptre, a hint that something was about to begin. Lenne and her songster peers inhaled deeply, then began singing the song with a different tune.
Yevon was dancing… but without his usual grace. There was roughness in his movements as if he were never meant to float like he often does when he dances. His feet were planted firmly onto the ground and the sceptre swung above his head frantically, making those who observed its movements lightheaded. The rain continued to pour heavily, drenching them from the top of their heads to the ends of their feet. The sea was starting to make circular motions until it created a huge waterspout that went to meet the flashes of lightning that had crisscrossed the dark skies. Kipu was emitting Pyreflies from his body… and he watched as they swam in the air, around all others present at the venue.
It was a terrifying sight for Lenne but she could not stop – none from her party could. They sang as if the tune and words of the song had pried their mouths open and taken command of their tongues. The singing and dancing never stopped, even when the waterspout had grown too large and was blinking with light. It was only when Yevon put down his sceptre that the singing ceased… but the waterspout remained.
One look at Kipu raised alarm among all except Yevon: his eyes were shut in death and the lower half of his body had become part of the cobblestones beneath him.
Yevon's eyes were fixed onto the waterspout. His lips quivered as he mumbled, as if finally giving an answer to Esmana's question, "A Zanarkand that is eternal…"