As the evening comes to an end, you pass through the gates of the city and return to your tribe's encampment outside the walls. Passing Drazha's yurt, you see the flicker of light coming from within, and you step inside.
Drazha is sitting cross-legged on the floor, an elaborate pair of earrings pinched between her fingertips and a look of intense scrutiny on her face, though whether your aunt is judging their value or their aesthetics, you cannot say. "Come in," she says, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite her.
"What do you make of the city?" you ask as you sit down.
"It's like nothing I've seen before," replies Drazha, "something I'd only dreamed of before I left the Great Steppe. The busy markets, the shadowed alleyways, all of it home to the most wild, secret, disreputable parts of humanity. I'll be sorry when we have to leave. Anyway, was there something you wanted to talk about? Where our path might take us north of Anselm's Landing, perhaps?"