Seregal looks around the group. "Any more questions?" he says in a low voice, while surreptitiously palming some of Jastor's delicious purple cheese.
"If not, let's do what Echo suggests. We should get back to the market and let the others know. We should also shop; might be our last chance to do some trading before we enter Augur-Kala." He frowns and scratches at his beard, wondering what supplies would be best on an expedition to a place that eats memories and time itself.
"Maybe we should keep detailed notes and diaries," he says after a while. "Just to safeguard our memories."
Later, when gets to the market, Seregal will see if there are any 'memory' ciphers or things that might protect one's mind. Failing that, he'll just purchase some notepaper to write in and various mundane travel supplies, like rations. "I wonder if we should purchase a pack-beast?" he mutters to his companions. "I don't suppose caravans will readily head to this city on an upside-down mountain."
There is one sort of memory cypher that can be more easily found - memory lenses. They allow one to store and permanently recall a short length of time of what they see, usually less than a minute. It's often used to memorize, say, a code sequence or a short message. There are also some substances that temporarily boost one's mental acuity, which would help with memory, certainly. You could trade other cyphers for them, or pay up to 20-50 shins, or offer some sort of service for them.
You can certainly find paper, writing utensils, and mundane travel equipment easily. The most common pack-beast available if, of course, the aneen, which runs 100 shins per beast. But they had haul a prodigious amount of weight. Being as Kolos Githian was one of those saved by your actions in the sheer, and he's an aneen seller, he might see fit to possibly wrangling you a discount.
Xaion said:Xaion just looks at it, then he nods. "Alright, here's your shins." He counts out and then drops the shins on the counter and takes his books. He will head back to the cheap inn earlier to rent a small area to sleep and read at.
The word-being says, "Very well," with a peculiarly dolorous font, as if it was disappointed that Xaion capitulated so quickly. Still, it takes the shins with a bob of its head.
Xaion heads off to Common Ground, supposedly an economical choice at a shin a night. The place is on one of the lower levels, and once at the door it's clear why. The sleeping-holes stretch up at least two stories, maybe more, with handholds between them to facilitate climbing. The place resembles a great hive of some enormous insect. Pale green light is across several of the openings, indicating the residents inside are sleeping.
"It deadens the sound and dims the light," a voice says. You look down to see the tiny proprietor of Common Ground, a grandmotherly woman perhaps four feet tall, with a sleek cap of black hair, and skin the color of strong tea. A pattern of blue and red dots decorate her forehead and cheeks. "Welcome to Common Ground, deary. I'm Delphont, and you're looking for a place to stay, I wager."
If her wager was correct, you may hand over a shin and be admitted to Common Ground. Delphont will stamp your hand with concentric circles of blue, red, and green. "Blue is the sonic grime-stripper. Go press your hand to one of those blue dots here by the door, and that's that. Red gets you one cup of brew from the metal boxes over there on the other side. Green lets you put up the privacy screen on one open sleeping-hole. Once you've used all three or a day has passed, then your hand is clean again and out you go back into the world!"
There's something that vaguely resembles a large firepit that sort of meanders through the common room, lit and warmed by fiery "fish" that swim within its confines. The floor is in drifts and gentle curves, periodically rising up to form places to sit, the whole plushly soft in a deep shade of blue. It's a pleasant place to sit and converse. Other groups of people are off in their own conversations - a couple groups of mercenary-types, a pair of weary-looking travelers wearing very worn clothes, a group of three Augurs speaking in very quiet whispers, and what appears to be a set of identical twins seems to be interrogating a very handsome man with a devil-may-care air about him.