"Fine." 

Fires bows and gives her the address, written on another scrap of vellum. "I look forward to our next meeting."

Then it opens the window and swoops out.

Happiness at meeting someone you didn't know you should have known all along, she tells her grandparent on the way out. 

A request one is embarrassed to make, the Bazaar denotes hesitantly before she leaves. The collection of love stories for a great purpose. A quantity, already enormous, that must grow if it is to be at all sufficient.

A gift to one's lover and superior. A gift desperately needed by the recipient. The thing to which five cities' worth of sins have been in service.

Failure at one's task. The dissolution of a star in its own grief. The summary execution of a messenger and its servants, as an afterthought to a far greater loss.

Success. The possibility of introducing a child to their second grandparent.

Willingness to be introduced. The land above the caverns and below the sky? A death, temporary and deliberate in the service of a goal. The fact that those who die even once in the Neath cannot return to the surface.

A burst of shocked almost-laughter. The inherent absurdity of the idea that one's own issue could be vulnerable to the Judgements' light. The knowledge that such hazards affect only creatures at the bottom of the Great Chain - rubbery men, Snuffers, animals.

The concept of "animals" includes humans. The Bazaar realizes this after a moment. An apology for imprecise wording. An apology for inadvertently insulting the referent's incubating parent.

Understanding of lack of offensive intent. The separation of Rubbery Men and Snuffers from the taxonomic class of "animal" which includes both humans and sea sponges?

The coherent class of "animal" as a being which was produced by the base and unpleasant process of evolution. After a moment, The concept of evolution, as perceived by a being which did not evolve. The potentially mollifying information that humans, being possessed of souls, have the capacity to birth something greater than themselves.

The acknowledgement that one knows less than one would like about an important subject. Concern and confusion regarding the nature of a related subject. The suspicion that one understands something which was previously puzzling. The concept of etymology. "Egg-thief."

Familiarity with the etymology for the specific term referenced. The knowledge that egg-thieves, or "devils", once served as pollinators, but abused their station to steal a grand and coruscating soul, and hatched it into a haven for what cannot be: the land of Parabola. The knowledge that the egg-thieves still desire souls, but that this is not the reason for their name.

Concern for the souls taken by egg-thieves. Worry caused by lack of knowledge.

Concern overshadowed by great overarching sadness and the urgency of one's personal quest. Reluctance to forbid the trade in souls. Belief that the beautiful stories produced by humans seeking to return the souls taken by egg-thieves make the soul trade positive-sum.

Disagreement about whether a given activity is positive-sum. Understanding of the urgency of another's quest. The uncertainty of whether another has access to a resource. Beautiful stories written on the surface.

A multitude of agents who operate in the Judgment-light. A gift which is worthless because it has already been received.

Comprehension. The observation that the purpose of looking like a member of a species is to interact freely with that species. A promise to make attempts to influence artists.

Delight and boundless affection.

Delighted affection, she says, and then makes her way, well, delightedly, to the address given her by Mr. Fires.

Fires is within, flanked by two massive Clay Men. It still dwarfs them. It stands before a gaping pit.

"So, you wish to know my aims," it says without preamble.

"Something of an understatement, but good enough to be going on with."

"First, know that I have something that you will need," Fires says. "The moon-mother's moon-silk. She spins over the course of a decade, preparing for the birth of each miser; it is absolutely essential to the child's survival. I stole this swathe of it some time ago. If you kill me, you will not find where I have hidden it, and you will not be able to acquire another, and our mutual aspiration, the hybrid, will perish. Do I make myself clear?"

"Is there any reason I couldn't bring you back if I killed you?"

It shrugs. "That would rather seem to defeat the point, would it not? Unless you intend to torture me to death and back in search of the silk, and I do not think you have such an act within you."

"I don't want to, certainly. But it's always better to know what your options are. At any rate, I do not have any specific or immediate plans to kill you at this time."

"Good, good. Follow me."

And it steps over the edge of the pit and descends into the darkness, flapping its wings a few times to control its descent. One of the Clay Men takes a ladder from the wall and puts it in the pit so that the Wastelander can climb down as well.

She climbs down.