It hadn't been easy to find his way into the city, but River was determined.  He had no inclination to fight the mummies, but he did want to learn about them.  Keeping to the rooftops, he moved from alley to street, always moving but listening first.  He had a few ideas of what he would do if he was seen, but it all involved escape.  And River intended to learn a few things before it came to that.  Crouching in the archway of the balcony a story up from the street, he finally found what he wanted.  There was a ruined temple, and he knew enough how the city to understand his goal lay within.  It was only a few blocks away too.  He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and focused.  Then River sprang from the balcony to the low roof across the alleyway.  He started to jog, trying to keep his footfalls quiet.  The wind helped, but he still aimed to be careful.

He had to wait for a patrol to pass, crouching behind the chimney of what had once been a pottery studio.  It made sense for that to be here, many jars would have been needed for this temple.  Slipping into the huge space, it took his eyes a few moments to adjust.  He pressed himself up against a wall, listening carefully for any footfalls.  Then River started to make his way into the temple.  The wrappings might help… but if he could find body parts, that would be even better.  Then he spotted a body on a dais.  He had no idea why it was still there, or why it hadn't been wrapped, but it would do nicely for what he needed to do.

Spreading his hands across the body, River took a deep breath.  Delving into the memories of the dead was never pleasant, but he viewed it as his duty, especially when he had a feeling he could use his talents for a greater good.  Letting the breath go, he plunged his hands into the skeletal chest of the body.  It would certainly bring the spirit around, if it was still tied to the body, and River had plans from there.

It was a terrible day, an absolutely miserable, awful day. Everything would have been fine if she hadn't ran into those two earlier. Shiloh and Natsumi, while they seemed nice enough, had the misfortune of discovering a nerve-wracking first for Mirannda. Of course, the discovery had to happen during a mass genocide, and her eardrums had been nearly burst due to an attack from Natsumi. To say the least, it was a harrowing.

Why, oh why did it have to be bugs? Awful stupid little creatures. As they skittered across the walls, their words skittered across her skull and snaked through her brain. Mirannda oh so wanted to yell at them to shut up, but how could they? After all, even beetles gotta eat sometime. It was fortunate that she had managed to get a reputation throughout the entire population that she was a pyromancer and would burn them should they try to consume her. They had short memories, and had to be reminded periodically.

At some point, she was lost in the temple. Mirannda wandered with growing agitation trying to find the exit with no success. Everything changed when she heard a familiar screech. Hope filled her, excitement lit her eyes as a child eyeing a pile of new toys. Sure enough, Elata Etney was swooping down the way at her. "Elata!" The phoenix grabbed the avian and pulled her into a tight hug, never being more happy to see the blasted cousin of hers. The bird cooed, expressing her joy at having found Mirannda. It didn't matter that Mirannda didn't look like she once did. No, this avian was linked to her through the Mother Flame, they would always find each other.

"I don't suppose you know the way out?" With another screech, Elata began to fly down the hallway again. Excitedly, Mirannda chased after the bird. That is, until she came to a wide room. It held some light from outside, showing Mirannda she had been successfully led toward the exit. Elata perched atop a statue of god, who Mirannda already forgot the names of. What got her, however, was the strange sight at a dias. A man had plunged his hands into the chest cavity of a corpse. "Uh… What are you doing?" While she sounded incredulous, Mirannda was actually quite curious.

He heard the footsteps, as well as the voice, but he ignored them.  He was more worried about the dead that walked through the city, and what they would do to anyone.  Unfortunately, he was forced to pay some attention to the person, even as he was focusing his sense on the corpse under his hands.  "Summoning a ghost.  I have a few questions for it," he said, keeping his deep voice as low as possible.  River didn't want attention on him, but it seemed impossible.  Hopefully the woman would not hinder him at the very least.  Taking one hand out of the chest, he beckoned the woman over, it would draw less attention should a patrol happen by.

But before he could say anything else, the ghost he sought arrived.  And it didn't attack him first, oddly enough.  It went diving through and momentarily into the woman, picking her up and hauling her across the temple's floor towards him.  River suddenly realized what the ghost's intention was.  It was going to use the physical body of the stranger to attack him.  Well, that was interesting.  He didn't have time to consider any further implications before he needed to act, but River had several ideas in mind.  Right now, simple was best. 

Drawing his dagger, River cut into his palm and quickly smeared the blood in a circle on the ground.  Just before the woman hit him, he clapped his hands together with a wince, activating the remaining spellwork he needed to trap the ghost.  She collided with him, but the ghost itself was contained within the bloody circle.  It had the vague form of a woman, and she looked very angry at being contained within his circle.  River only grinned, and turned his attention to the woman he had only barely caught.  Had they fallen to the ground, there was a chance the spellwork would not have functioned.  "My name is River, and I'm a spirit-binder.  Sorry you got caught up in this, miss," he said, his voice apologetic.  There was enough time before the containment wore off that he could ensure the woman would be alright.

'Oh, summoning a ghost, that was obvious.' She wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic, or literally calling herself dumb for not guessing it without being told. He beckoned her over, and for fraction of a second Mirannda considered the consequences. Before even a single step could be made in any direction, Elata screeched, opening her wings and puffing her chest, looking quite angry.

The humanoid phoenix looked over at the avian at the inopportune time. As the ghost entered her body, a cold descended upon her akin to a blanket. Mirannda was lifted and found herself zooming toward the dark skinned man. Becoming quite upset about not controlling her own body, Mirannda helplessly watched as time seemed to slow down the closer she got to him, the way he cut into his palm, drew a circle on the ground with the flowing crimson liquid life, and clapped his hands together decisively. Initially, Mirannda expected the weight of her body to send him crashing to the ground, yet he stayed standing.

Regaining her footing, Mirannda detangled herself from the man. "Mirannda, spell-sword for hire. Sorry for distracting you." Trying to brush herself off, Elata took flight once more and landed on her shoulder, causing the woman to cock her head. "And this attention hog is Elata Etney." At the mention of her name, the avian chirped happily before turning to glare at the ghost. Mirannda decided it would be best to quiet down and allow the questions River sought answers for be asked before that containment spell wore off. She took a couple steps back and admired the spellwork at the base of the ghost's feet, wondering how in the world he had caught a ghost.

He didn't mind the audience, so long as she did what he asked.  But they were, of course, interrupted by the ghost he sought to question.  But he had prepared, and River managed to catch her before they both fell.  A grin crossed his face at seeing the bird, he had already decided he liked this woman.  Companions like that only helped.  "Hello to you both.  Is Elata a phoenix?  I've never gotten to see one," he asked, a quiet excitement in his voice.  It was impossible to miss the color of the bird's feathers, and River's intense curiosity was piqued.  He allowed himself the few moments of distraction, but once his question had been answered, he turned his attention back to the ghost.

Tracing one more character, one that served as a translation rune, River's face was completely serious as he started to ask his questions.  "Who are you, and why was your process left unfinished?" he said, calmly, watching the ghost.  It writhed and twisted within the containment, but his blood compelled it to answer.  "I was called Nishem, and I was beloved of a noble here.  When I died in childbirth, he wanted to have me buried properly.  But the priests were corrupt, they took his money, and left my body unfinished.  So here I linger," her answer came, barely above a whisper.  But there was sorrow and anger clear in her voice, and River could sense that it was not aimed at him. 

"Do you know what happened here?  How the curse came to linger here, and raise the dead?" River asked, still trying to piece the story together.  But the ghost only shook her head. she explained.  It wasn't much of an answer, but it fit with the pieces of legend that River already knew about of this area.    "I know not.  Only that I think it is the priests' fault.  They did not take care of my body, they hid the sacrifices that were supposed to
go to the gods.  It is their fault.  And I do not know that it can be
righted," she said with a gesture that seemed to mirror a sigh.  Considering the situation, River knew he would not be able to learn much more from this woman.  He would have to find one of the priests and question him.  "I can offer you peace, Lady Nishem.  If you wish, I can end your suffering," he offered, knowing it would make his goal harder, but it was the right thing to do.

She hesitated only a moment, then nodded.  "Please…  I have nothing to wait for, and I cannot move on without help.  Please help me…" she said, trailing off.  River nodded, then bowed to the ghost.  He turned his attention to Mirannda, and said "This may be strange for you to watch, but please don't interrupt.  I will explain once I've finished," he said, then dipped his finger in the blood pooled in his cut hand.  He drew another rune, and chanted in a liquid tongue, one he had learned from the library in Arri.  Once he finished drawing the pair of runes, the ghost threw her head back and vanished.  There was peace in her eyes.  River dropped to a knee, chest heaving and it was clear the ritual had exhausted him. 

Mirannda nodded in ascent, briefly debating on whether or not to say the words that desired to spring forth from her lips. At home, she'd be reserved from telling this information, as it was a weapon she used against the unsuspecting. Here, did she really need that advantage? ”We both are.” The words escaped nonetheless, soft and shy, completely at odds with how she would normally have behaved.

As she wrestled with the shift of character, she watched the interaction between ghost and spirit-binder. Nishem had a sad story indeed. Death by childbirth, proper ritual botched, doomed to linger for eternity. It explained the frustration she had felt, the agony and grief as she was flung across the room. Very little information was offered as to why the undead are bound to Rudjek and his bidding. None of the dead had a will of their own. This was a secondary trait that marked the difference between phoenix and undead.

River offered a noble act of peace, releasing the sad spirit from this plane, free to go where all souls are supposed to rest. Whether it be in peace, or in eternal agony, Mirannda never cared to speculate, especially after finding out her true nature. Why worry about something you'll likely never experience? She nodded once more, remaining silent. Listening to the language he was using, not understanding a single word, Mirannda watched him and the ghost.

”Jaliza, commit this to memory. Never forget.” Absently, Mirannda brought her finger to her mouth, silencing the voice that she didn't realize was a whisper in her own mind. It hadn't even occurred to her that no one in this land even knew the name. When the ritual was over, Mirannda rushed forward, hands hovering over River's back, Elata spreading her wings and glided to the ground. ”Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Without waiting for a reply, she pulled out some cloth from her pack and offered to bind his hands. ”What exactly did you do?

”Weren't you paying attention? You have the audacity to call yourself my cousin, yet for your thirty plus years on me, your eyes are closed, Jaliza.” Mirannda turned to glower at the avian. ”Shut your beak! And don't call me that!” Muttering about blasted birds, she turned toward River, giving him a sheepish smile. ”I've just discovered the ability to listen to animals. Since being reunited with Elata, she seems… harsh.. now that I can understand her.” It was all she cared to say about the subject, as well.

His dark eyes widened, River hadn't realized that the legendary creatures could take on a humanoid appearance.  "If it wouln't be an imposition, I would very much appreciate some time to speak with you later.  But not here, it's not safe to linger," River said, a quiet reverence in his voice.  Getting to speak with her and ask questions would be quite memorable for River, but he knew better than to press if Mirannda did not want to share anything of herself or her companion.  And there were more pressing matters at hand.  It was easy to gain the story he wanted, and he felt pity for the ghost.  He was able to release Nishem from her pain, but River was left with more questions. 

Offering a weary smile, he allowed her to bind the wound on his hand.  It was better that it not get infected.  "I showed her to way to the Soul Stream.  She will find peace there, and possibly rebirth.  I can tell she was a good soul, so she deserves a new beginning," River explained.  It was one of the first rituals he had learned, and it was one of the most important.  Offering peace to spirits was a cornerstone of his work, and River closed his eyes for a moment.  His eyebrows went up when Mirannda started speaking seemingly to herself.  But the explanation made sense, and he nodded.  "I see.  I've never had that talent.  And I sure that she has her reasons for being harsh," he said with a chuckle.  Getting to his feet again, the man sighed.  There was still more work to do.

"My next step is to find the body of a priest, summon his ghost, and interview it.  But I need to do some preparation.  You can watch if you'd like.  Keep an ear out for any patrols, would you please?" River asked, pulling out a sachet of herbs.  He crushed a few in his hand, and redrew the runes he had used to capture Nishem's spirit.  It took less than a minute, it was a ritual he was quite familiar with, and the movements were second nature.  "Any signs of interruptions, Mirannda?" he called out once he was done.  It would be better to know if there would be anyone close before.  Ghosts could be… quite noisy sometimes.

The most shocking reaction she could ever have to anyone's desire to speak about her nature came to pass. Mirannda wanted to talk about it, to share her history with him, parts of it anyway. Having kept it bottled up and so closely guarded was tiresome. For now, it was safer to keep holding her secrets a little while longer, for he was correct on the danger of lingering in places such as this. A mummy could stumble upon them, previous efforts on Rudjek could prove to be futile as he renews his mental assault, or something else entirely limited only by imagination.

With an expert hand, Mirannda wrapped the cloth comfortably tight, tying it with deft fingers. It showed her experience with binding her own wounds at the very least. She listened to his explanation, imagining what the Soul Stream might look like. At the word rebirth, the phoenix gave him a quizzical look. ”Souls can rebirth eventually. Usually they don't remember their past lives. Always a new name, new identity, new life. Phoenix do not loose sense of their past selves each rebirth unless they choose to.” It was going to be hard getting used to having Elata actually talk to her, yet the avian was quite knowledgeable for being so much younger. If she had to have given any thought as to Elata's personality, Mirannda would have given her a more childish attitude.

”She's young, but we're both infantile in our age comparatively with our potential.” Elata scoffed, something similar to an avian sneeze. ”And she thinks I'm a bit too reckless.” ”How many times have you died now?” Mirannda blushed deep crimson with the fact thrown at her. It stood at odd contrast with the frown at River's next words and actions. Her eyes followed each rune as he drew them. ”I'm all for research and curiosity, but… Let's not rush into things.” The phoenix really did not want him to summon Rudjek so soon after her last encounter with him.

While her eyes were on the runes, Elata opened her wings and let out an ear piercing screech. ”Jaz! The hall!” Mirannda turned as she heard the wailing of a ghost. Robed with an odd tiny cane in its hand, the ghost glided toward them… FAST. ”River! Incoming!” Instinctively, she summoned a fire in her hand. Letting the tear shaped flame drop, to the ground, it cackled with delight as it created a small circle around herself. River knew how to deal with ghosts, Mirannda was not so fortunate.

There was something in her expression that was hesitation, though River wasn't sure why.  But he knew better than when to press for answers.  But now was not the time, hopefully there would be time later.  The look from the phoenix was easy to read, though he had no idea as to what Elata was saying.  Thankfully, Mirannda was willing to at least partly translate for him.  He chuckled at the sound from the bird, it was easy to read what the sound meant.  As to why she blushed, River couldn't say.  "Do not worry.  I've no plans to summon the being in the pyramid.  He is beyond me to trap.  But I still want to know what happened here.  And for that, I need to speak with someone who was there.  Possibly the one who kept Nishem from her rest," River explained.  He knew his limits, and what would be more practical.  And less dangerous, considering he felt responsible for Mirannda's safety now.

The ghost that came looked to be what he wanted to find, but it homed in on the girl instead of him.  That could be a problem.  But he had a fair idea of how he could get the ghost's attention, it took one to know another.  Drawing out a bit of catnip from the pouch, River cast a spell he had recently learned.  Chanting quickly, he summoned a large, ghostly cat, and pointed at the ghost, then at his circle.  The cat nodded, and pounced at the ghost, swiping a large paw at it, and enticing the priest to a chase.  There were few things that could harm a ghost, but one was another ghost.  The chase was short, but ended with the ghost right where River wanted, standing in the still bloody circle.  It flared for a moment, consuming the herbs, and the priest was trapped. 

Beckoning Mirannda over now that it was safe, River turned his attention to the ghost.  He stared coldly for a few moments before speaking.  "Speak, I seek knowledge of the past, and you have it.  What happened here?  Why did you stop  taking care of your gods?  And why did you betray your people's trust?" he asked quickly.  He knew they would have to move on soon, it was dangerous to stay in one place for too long within the city.  The ghost hissed, but because of the circle, he was compelled to answer.  "I am Tachus, the high priest here.  Formerly.  The people rose against us, once they understood what we were trying to do.  They had become too dependent on us, and on their gods.  It was tiresome, always taking requests for healthy children, crops, long lives, instead of doing things for themselves!  The people were growing lazy, and we had to show them what they could do without their gods!" he said, his voice barely above a whisper but still full of a fanatical passion.  The idea was interesting to River, trying to help the people by cutting them off from their gods.  But given the jealousy of the gods, it was not a good idea to assume that the gods would not have an objection.

Mirannda suppressed a sigh of relief when River told her he had no intention of summoning the big priest in power. He was a narcissistic bastard who apparently loved the sound of his own voice. Rudjek was not happy that Mirannda was a phoenix, unable to join his ranks of shuffling undead. The wrapped beings were really annoying, and it was worse if they were of greater power. That one fight she had where she had to hide in the shadows and fling fireballs at the one, all while nearly broken in body was terrible. Thinking back on the recent event cause a cold shiver to run down her spine.

Releasing the fire, the flames fading from existence, Mirannda tentatively approached River and his ghost. Tachus spoke to River about the population becoming too dependent on the priests. It was common for the populous to wish for health, children, food, increased quality of life. How was that not doing things for themselves? Rain does not come on command for people, and in the desert, even the oasis’s were few and far between. Beyond trade with far off farmers, it's not mystery why people would request the gods' help with food and health. With a frown, Mirannda decided she couldn't stay silent this time.

”It seems to me that you have lost your sense of how people help themselves long ago. Those are prayers to their gods, not demands. They looked up to you to provide said prayers to the gods. People still tended the fields, they looked after sick children, they cooked, worked, labored and toiled to provide for their family, their king and their gods. You have no idea, do you, how people can work hard and wish or pray for something good?” Mirannda was shaking, fists clenched, her voice passionate with hatred. She had a personal vendetta against those who tortured slaves or honest people for any reason. ”Send him to the darkest place you can, River. Make him burn.”

Turning in the sand, Mirannda began to march toward the exit of the room. Elata took to the air and plopped herself down before the exit, wings spread wide. ”Calm down, da'len.” She scoffed at the avian who deigned to call her a young one when she had thirty years on the bird. ”You cannot leave River alone here. You alone know Rudjek and his ways. River will not be safe without your company.” Mirannda looked back at the spirit-binder with a sigh. ”I hate it when you're right, and I just started hearing you.” ”You hate it when anyone points out error in your logic, not just me. Don't kid yourself.” So she stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping as she stared into the next room. She would explain if she was asked.