"You could say that your conjuration trades off against converting spells to healing - I don't think that actually happens, but my teleportation does trade off against my ability to deal with undead, it's not an unheard of sort of thing, and people won't push if it seems important to you as a cleric. That'll allow you to do more conjuration without drawing suspicion, too, if there's an obvious drawback."

"I don't care for outright lying but I guess if necessary."

"I can keep thinking about it, it should be easy enough for you to only conjure around people who're trustworthy to know about it for now."

"Yeah. I assume I should keep the exoticism of the food down for now, so I will need a menu to work off of."

He nods. "Here you can just duplicate whatever the kitchen has for us tonight - they give out the same food they serve in the dining room. For Pelor's - I could tell you what sorts of things my food-conjuration spell gives me, but that's not very high-quality either, we might do better to spend half an hour wandering around the marketplace for ideas."

"Can do. Can I take pictures? You took pictures, but I don't know if you were taking special precautions."

"Sure, it'll just look like you have an unusually plain magic item. They might want to know what you're doing, but no worse than that."

"And I can show them the pictures?"

"Mmhmm."

"All right, I'll fill the kitchen here and then we can go for a walk."

Cam duplicates the Lastaian charitable offering as much as they've got space for and then follows Raafi.

The chef, an older man wearing a sprig of flowers in a mesh bag as a holy symbol, thanks him and asks if he takes requests, and then shows him the menu for the rest of the week and points out where they've had to cut corners, mostly on various types of fruit and nuts that are hard to come by out of season but there's a dessert in three days that he'd love to swap out for a different one if he can get the spices for it.

The market between Lasti's and Pelor's temples is a few blocks away, through residential streets where they pass children playing ball and adults enjoying the afternoon sun while they chat and work on various chores and handcrafts and onto a larger thoroughfare, wide enough for two wagons to pass each other but currently only seeing foot traffic. Another block, and they come to the market itself, a few blocks of paved space between this street and the next left open to be filled with carts and open-sided tents where merchants show off their wares - mostly but not exclusively food, dozens of kinds of produce, many familiar - potatoes, corn, wheat, oats, squashes and beans and lettuces and apples that wouldn't look out of place in a Revelation grocery store - but some less so, from bundles of red and purple carrots, peas with variegated orange and yellow speckling, and small bluish eggplants to things that can at best be guessed to be some sort of root vegetable or tree-grown fruit, with stands selling spices, prepared foods, housewares, and other common goods scattered through the area. Livestock is in its own section, at one end of the market, a similar mix of familiar and unfamiliar animals in pens and crates with a cluster of butchers' shops just across the street behind them.

Cam's wings draw a few curious looks, but no particular attention past that. His camera gets a little more scrutiny; it doesn't take long for one of the vendors to ask what he's doing with it.

He takes requests! They can have fruit and nuts and spices and Cam throws in edible flowers, these seem like edible flowers sorts of people.

Cam takes pictures of things, especially the things he doesn't recognize. He shows the vendor his amateur shot of the blue eggplant. "It makes pictures of things I point it at!"

(The chef is utterly delighted at the edible flowers.)

"Oh, clever! I bet you'll find tons of uses for that."

"It comes in handy sometimes!" Wag wag. "What are the blue ones called?"

"Lenke's blue, that kind. They're meatier than the purple ones, don't need as much spice."

"Neat!" On he proceeds.

There's plenty to see; he gets asked about the camera a few more times, and a couple of less friendly vendors tell him to get it away from their stalls, but nothing worse than that happens. Raafi stays nearby, offering commentary on various foods as they leave the stalls they're sold at - which ones are common in the region and keep well and are easy to cook with, and which ones are rarer and less likely to be donated, or will make less useful contributions to the people they'd be given to.

He suggests that they skip the livestock portion of the market, aside from perhaps the outer edge where eggs and cheeses are set out for sale - it's quite rare for meat to be donated.

"It's very nutritious," says Cam. "Oh well. Later. Do you have a guess what the peas guy and the honey guy objected to about me?"

"Lastai's church gives it out, and Pelor's on holidays. Those two, I couldn't tell you; they might have noticed that you weren't buying anything, or had trouble with thieves recently, or just have that sort of personality. I don't think it was anything you did, especially."

"Not 'they didn't like the wings' though, okay."

"Ah, no. Greens is very liberal that way, I wouldn't expect anyone here to bother you about them."

"It seems a nice town."

"I like it, definitely. Was there anything else you wanted to see before we go to the temple?"

"I think the temple itself will be more informative than the market on the topic of what containers stuff should be in."

"Mmhmm."

Pelor's temple is larger than Lastai's, more of a compound than a building, with stained glass windows depicting Pelor and his holy symbol set into its marble walls and a courtyard between the street and the main doors. Raafi has to look around a bit before finding the office he wants; he explains that Cam would like to make a large food donation under conditions that require discretion and asks to speak to someone high enough in the church hierarchy to authorize it. The clerk does visibly check out his holy symbol, but doesn't seem to find this otherwise concerning, and leads them to a sitting room to wait what turns out to only be a few minutes; the woman who comes in introduces herself as Bishop Calry. "What can I help you with today?"