Layla does the needful quickly and efficiently, disbursing pay to everyone from the caravan's treasury. 

It's good to be home. There is much to be done, but it can wait a day or two. For now she wants to be with Rana and Naila.

They retire to their tent, and collapse in a heap together in bed.

At last they can rest. 

Naila takes her role as big spoon very seriously.

Eventually, though, Layla has work to do. She has to lay in supplies, and plan the caravan's next move. And it would be good to know what the plans Bastet has for them are. 

She goes out to the market and buys one of every newspaper in the city, then brings all three back to her tent in Caravan's End to read them in privacy.

The first newspaper is the old reliable mouthpiece of the Pharaoh and the Vault of Abadar, the Tephu Scribe. The headline story is a new training program accepting scribal apprentices at the Great Library. It drones on and on about how great a service is being done to the Tephu economy by letting young men receive a proper education, etcetera, etcetera. 

The second newspaper is put out by a local merchant conglomerate in Caravan's End. It's the Caravanner's Companion. The headline story here is about increased gnoll activity in the wastes nearby. Wonderful, she's very glad that she heard about this now. 

The third newspaper is a shameful rag by the name of the Tephu Tell-All. Usually Layla wouldn't bother reading it, since it's always full of scurrilous rumors and the quality of the reporting is atrocious, but unlike the other papers from Tephu, the Tell-All skirts the line between lèse-majesté and safety. It's run by some anonymous consortium, likely a front for the Church of Calistria, and is printed on noticeably worse paper. 

The headline story here is that a new wonder drug promising ultimate sexual bliss has hit the shores of Osirion, going by the name "golden blood." It's supposed to originate from a newly-discovered portion of Calistria's realm in Elysium, and is supposed to cause such pleasure that people fall comatose from it and never recover. Buried in the second paragraph is a mention that it's a contraceptive and thus there have been arguments that it is legal under the pharaoh's new alchemical laws. The newspaper carefully implies but does not state that the Pharaoh has caused all this with his shocking inattention to the proper, upright way of living in Osirion. 

... new laws about contraceptives? That seems like a glimmer of truth in an ocean of bullshit. 

She goes back through the Tephu Scribe. Buried in small print on page ten under the law and society section there's a question and answer column about the Pharaoh's new decree regarding alchemical contraceptives. Married men are allowed to possess no more than a month's supply, alchemists may apply for a license to possess commercial quantities. 

If there's a new law, it must be in response to some new product on the market. Something changed the landscape so that the Pharaoh had to respond. The Caravanner's Companion would know about that.

She goes to the investment advice columns, and sure enough there's a column on what's called "amberwine", a recent alchemical formulation strictly controlled by the Church of Calistria in Absalom that, if taken regularly, promises to prevent one from getting with child. The column is deeply negative about its forecasted profitability, noting that House Avenstar has a stranglehold on the foreign market, that trading with it may lead to allegations of Calistrianism, and that in any case nobody in Osirion wants it. 

That has to be the worst investment advice she has ever heard.

She's found her amber drops, and the clinking sound of money to go with them. No upright Osirian man is going to be involved in this enterprise, but any Osirian woman with a thought in her skull is going to want access to this formula. It's a golden opportunity, and Bastet has given her a clear chance to seize it. 

There is the issue that she needs a good alchemist and a sample of the formula, but that's a detail. She knows what Bastet wants. The spirit will guide her.

"Rana," she says, looking up from her broadsheets. "I think you want to see this."

Rana takes the papers, and nods. 

"A contraceptive, to free our sisters. Bastet must mean all the women in marriages they hate. We won't get there with these regulations, but if we trade carefully with those who have need of it..." 

"You're proposing smuggling." 

Rana has always had too little respect for the law and her reputation. It's not that she disagrees, but the penalties for smuggling are serious, especially for women like themselves. Sentences of enslavement are not uncommon.

"We'll do more good if we can legitimize the contraceptive. Right now hardly anyone knows about it. The more widespread we can make it in Osirion, the more money we'll make and the more public opinion will shift. We just need to be at the forefront of the legal trade. Let the established smugglers do their work, they're better at it than us."

"And how are we going to trade in it legally without an alchemist in the caravan?"

She sheafs through the papers. "I suppose we could try to sponsor Fahim for alchemical training, he's male, but he's amurrun and none of the reputable universities accept us. And I'm not sure he's sharp enough for it, to be blunt."

"What, you don't know any alchemists who don't get along too well with the Pharaoh? I thought you knew everyone." 

Layla raises her eyebrows.

"I know one, but he's a sad sack and not a very good alchemist either. Got his license, but failed at the business side of things. His father supports him. He's kind enough, but he's incredibly tiring to be around. Not really my kind of person." 

Rana's judgement on these matters is usually good, but sometimes she cares more about if someone's fun to be with rather than a good business partner. She thinks she needs to meet this sad-sack alchemist. 

"Hmmmmm. I think we could make that work. We'd need a proper source of amberwine if we don't have someone capable of rederiving it, but the main point is to have someone licensed to possess commercial quantities of the formula. House Avenstar can't have a complete stranglehold on it, there's bound to be someone else trying to sell it. It's a lead, at least."

"Alright. I'll arrange a meeting. In the meantime I think you should go test more charms in the marketplace; there's enough occult shops that you should be able to try many more holy symbols. And you should talk to the rest of the caravan about this contraceptive idea, put it to a vote. We'll probably have to make a trip up to Sothis to acquire the formula even if everything goes well, and I don't know if the caravan wants to move onward that soon, especially after the narrow escape we had earlier."

The caravan is not actually a democracy, but it's still sensible to put things to votes. Rana's got the right idea. 

"I think I want to know if we have an alchemist or not before we put this to a vote. But the charms thing is sensible; I've been meaning to attempt it myself. We could make it a date, take Naila and whoever from the caravan wants to come."

"You have fun with Naila, then. I'll take Kamil and go talk to our alchemist - he'll be more comfortable if I'm escorted." 

Rana's flat tone makes clear her contempt for the concept of a woman needing to be chaperoned. 

"Alright. Let's move then, there's only so much daylight."

Layla ducks out of the tent, pushing aside the flap as she steps out into the sun. 

Hayat is making soup, keeping her hands busy. She stirs her pot slowly, looking off into the distance. It smells like it's almost ready.

Naila sits next to her, leant against a stack of ingredients. She watches the people go by around the camp. She's always wary in cities. Wary outside of cities too. Really, she's wary almost all the time. 

Kamil stands a casual guard over the camp, mostly for the sake of appearances. His bow is slung against his back and his body is relaxed. 

Rana emerges from the tent behind Layla and goes to talk to Kamil. Her hushed voice doesn't carry across the camp.

Kamil nods and listens.

"Hey, Naila," she says to her sister. "Want to make a round of the occult shops in town and see if we can find my spirit's symbol? I thought we could linger over it, have lunch in the city, you know, the usual." 

She looks over at Hayat. "You're invited too if you want to come."

Hayat shakes her head. "I've had entirely too much excitement in the last few days," she says. "I want to stay in camp and be very, very bored for a while. You could ask Fayruz though, I think she'd be interested to spend time with you."

Yeah, Fayruz likes it when there are real beds available for activities, and she's an old enough hand that she's probably unshaken by the attack.

She's not Layla's sister, but that's no reason not to invite her along. She's still fun to spend time with.

"I'll ask her, if you know where she is?"

Hayat nods and spoons herself a bowl of soup. 

"She's reading in her tent."

Naila nods. "I think I could use the company. Fayruz is always better in cities than me."

She stretches, then knits her fingers together behind her head.

Layla steps back into the camp, and finds Fayruz leant against a tent-pole, a small, well-worn book of traveler's tales in her hands. 

"Hey," she says. "Fayruz. Want to come into town on a date with me and Naila? I want to try more holy symbols."