This process takes him a lot longer than a minute, but eventually Leareth uncurls, though he stays sitting on the floor. 

:I think I am not from this world: he tells the woman. 

"Not from this world like from the Surface or like from Parabola or like from Axile?"

A choice between exemplary options. The planet's surface, rich with light but under the rule of law. The realm of dreams and mirrors, which Is Not. A separate planet, from whence come creatures of water and slippery flesh. 

:I think - none of those specific places. I...am originally from a world called Velgarth, which is its own planet - likely very far from here, or I would have known of this place. More recently I was in a different world, called Arda, which is....very different from all of those other places, their world is flat and was previously lit by two very large trees and only recently acquired a sun, which is driven across the sky in a chariot by a dedicated small-god: 

Leareth says all of this in a very detached, distant way. 

"Chariot? Small-god? Please elaborate."

INTENSE CONFUSION. The conception of suns/stars as great beings, mightier than anything else that might be called a god and much too big to fit into a chariot and also completely sessile.

This is ESPECIALLY hard to talk about but Leareth tries his best. 

:Arda has - big gods, fourteen of them. Very powerful magic. Not...really embodied, in physical space - made of magic and mind. Control matter around them. And small gods, thousands, same but - less powerful. Their sun was made of fruit from the trees that were destroyed:

He really really really would like to stop thinking about gods now. And about what exactly happened when the Trees were killed. 

"When you say gods..."

Intense suspicion of the concept of worship.

Well, of course. Gods aren't for worshipping. For the most part they don't deserve it at all.

:I have my disagreements with them: he manages. Calmly, though in the process he's semi-involuntarily curling up again, knees pulled to his chest. 

"Okay. Well, I don't have a way to get you back to your world right now but I can keep an eye out."

The resigned addition of a task to an unnecessarily long to-do list.

:- Oh. I was not expecting you would have a way. If I want to go back, I - need to do that myself: 

He wonders, briefly, vaguely, if dying here would send his soul snapping back to Velgarth. That would be one way of solving this problem. Not one he wants to jump to trying, though. Especially since it might not work, and he has no way of checking. 

Nothing on Arda is currently on fire. Well, Vanyel and Maitimo are presumably searching everywhere - and maybe they'll even find him, eventually, that's probably a better bet than him getting his magic back somehow - but in any case, they can cope. The situation will keep. 

...It's very confusing how this is the thought that sends a sudden, sharp pang of grief-loneliness-pain through his chest.

He starts crying, although very quietly. 

"--Hey, hey, it's okay, I help people, I have other things I need to do but I will help you."

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. 

(The resigned expectation that if she doesn't involve herself in a thing, it can't be expected to get done.)

...This is not actually very reassuring, or particularly addressing Leareth's feelings, but also randomly crying in front of her is probably rude and confusing from her perspective. 

:Thank you: He takes a few deep breaths, trying to get himself at least a little bit calmer. 

Eventually he feels able to look up and meet her eyes. :Your world - has problems: 

...Usually this sentence would end in offering help. That - feels too risky, it's verging awfully close to a scenario where he could do serious harm if in fact he was still in Angband and all this was a hallucination, and besides, what can he do. He doesn't have magic right now. 

"It sure as hell does."

EXTREMELY EMPHATIC AGREEMENT.

:I...would help. Want to help. But - complicated, reasons - I...: 

Leareth is realizing that he's not used to having to communicate in WORDS when he's this stressed. It's much easier if he can just make varying depths of his thoughts public at Maitimo, who has all the context on all the things already. 

He really is not in the mood to have to fend off attempted stabbings by a 'knife-and-candle player', whatever that is, when he doesn't even have MAGIC. He has his shield-talisman and it's still working but at some point it's going to run out of power. 

:- Actually can we - go somewhere more safe? Would be easier to think: 

"Alright." 

Agreement to a proposed course of action.

She leads him through bustling city streets towards--

It looks like a giant stone building, carved all of a single piece without mortar or masonry, to ordinary sight. 

To mage-sight, it is also VERY MAGIC in ways that are similar to the woman in some ways and different in others. It's more...developed, in a way, but it's missing some parts that she has, and has a few parts that she's missing. More of the former than the latter, though.

Leareth follows her. He REALLY HATES crowds, especially of strangers, and he's doing pretty well at maintaining his composure externally, but this is a point where Maitimo would notice he was struggling and ask if he wanted to be carried or if they should just call Vanyel for a Gate - and Leareth would say no because not worth the resources but it's surprisingly upsetting not to have the option... 

(He could theoretically ask the woman to carry him but his entire brain starts screaming at the prospect of her touching him again, normally he's better about that lately but he's well past his tolerance for unexpected stress and he doesn't have an exit route even in principle and this is making everything ten times as hard as it should be.) 

They reach the building and he stops and looks at it. 

:What does the magic on it do: he asks the woman, :- also what is your name? I...am called Leareth: 

(In non-shared-language Mindspeech, the name comes across both as a sound, but also with an echo of - stars, the night sky, every light in the world worth saving -)

She smiles at him, radiating approval of the name, but also a sort of wry irony. 

"I'm called the Light-Hearted Wastelander." Light that is life. A barren field of jagged stone that is home. "You can see that the Bazaar is magic?" Curiosity at a new perceptual phenomenon. "The Bazaar is a Messenger." A specific individual as a member of a category. The envoys and chief servants of the Judgments/stars. "I'm sure there's specific magic for going places fast, and of course speaking the Correspondence, but I'm also sure that some of it is just--being a person high on the Great Chain." Superluminal transit, of the form specifically employed by Messengers in conjunction with non-sentient symbiotes. The burning language of the stars. A hierarchy of being, with more powerful beings higher than less powerful beings, with connotations of doubling as a socio-political hierarchy.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!! 

Leareth is not sure how much if any of this particular aaaah he endorses. He tries to take a deep breath. It sort of works. 

:...The building itself is - a person? Intelligent entity? Representing a 'Judgement', which is a star god? - Are they friendly. What - agreements does the building abide by - is there...safe passage for individuals like us...?: 

Leareth is not, generally, liked by gods. Usually he wouldn't go anywhere near a space maintained by one, whether or not most people who weren't Leareth were supposedly safer there. 

"The building itself is a person!" Deliberate camoflage as a result of fortuitous morphology. "It's not representing the Sun right now." A self-assigned task, for the benefit of but not originating from its Judgment. "The Bazaar isn't what I would call universally friendly, but I and it have a pretty comprehensive mutual-cooperation agreement." A close personal relationship stemming from ties of blood and strengthened by personal interactions. "It has some constraining agreements with the Masters, but that's probably not something you need to worry about." An ancient and fraught contract, deeply complicated and with a regrettable history. "If I ask it to keep you safe, you will be safe within its walls." A great ability to protect, called upon when needed. "Anyway, I don't know what you mean by 'individuals like us,' but this Messenger and this planet's Sun are, uh, heretics, it would not be great if the Space Constables got called on them." Uncertainty regarding categorization. Those beings whose existence is contraindicated by the consensus of the Judgments. A star in secret defiance of the will of its fellows. The crime of procreation between links on the Great Chain.

All of this is so confusing and upsetting! 

It would be way easier to think if he could curl up on the ground again, but that will just confuse his guide even more. 

:...I would be deeply grateful for your protection and - I cannot think of any way that the other - Judgements - could know of my existence or have opinions, but...I lack context on your world. What manner of things causes the Space Constables to be called?: 

"The Seekers are trying to do it, but they've been trying to do it since the Third City and haven't succeeded yet. The odds that you come to any Judgment's attention are slim to none unless I bring you to the Surface and introduce you to the Sun, which I don't have any reason to do."

The cultists of the dead and angry god. The pursuit of revenge for the god's death and devouring. The alerting of the Space Constables/dragons to illegal activities perpetuated in this solar system, including by the culprit and by the Bazaar, who did not prevent it. Time measured in centuries and in the Fall of three cities. The apathy of Judgments towards life as low on the Great Chain as humans. A beloved ancestor. 

Leareth is mostly managing to parse that, despite the buzzing lowkey-panic encroaching on his thoughts, but right now everything that the Light-Hearted Wastelander says is only opening even more questions. 

:- All right. I will go in with you if you think it is a good idea: 

She nods. 

She opens her mouth and says another fiery star-word. Enthusiastic greetings to a beloved ancestor!

Another voice rumbles words of fire into the air. The building is very much a person. Warm greetings to a beloved descendant. Inquiry as to the nature of a companion. 

The project to rescue the victims of that-which-is-devoured. An unexpected fall. An individual from an unknown world, she responds. 

Amused assumption that if the one addressed is involved, things are sure to be interesting, the Bazaar replies. 

Warm, amused agreement, Lucy says, and a door swings open, and Lucy leads Leareth inside. 

Leareth is quickly running out of slots in his mental stack to keep track of individual elements-of-confusion, which is frustrating but also makes it easier not to have any particular emotions about THAT baffling exchange. 

He follows Lucy and peers around with mage-sight. 

The place is VERY VERY MAGIC. 

Lucy leads him to a small suite containing comfortable furnishings. 

"You can just rest here, if you want, or you can ask me questions."

Concern over Leareth's apparent exhaustion. Curiosity and the desire to exchange information.