Head injuries were tricky and the greatest danger they posed lay in their unpredictability. A man could wake up feeling fine and dandy early one morning, then fall dead by noon when the blow he hadn't even realized he'd received during the night finally manifested its true nefarious scope.

Fortunately for Meyo, it appeared that his kind of hurt was a good, old-fashioned concussion. Not that he knew much about treating it, since he'd shirked most of his mandatory medical training at the Academy in favor of sneaking into advanced engineering classes. By then, he had fully embraced his researching career and was very much intrigued by the prospect of thoroughly documenting famous empirical experiments whose lead scientists had cared too little or not at all for proper documentation procedures.

Of course, all of his colleagues had sneered at his preoccupation and labeled him a "bookworm", which was not as insulting as they had originally intended. Meyo naturally gravitated to anything and everything related to books, and worms were known to be essential contributors to the delicate balance of the environment. In libraries of all sorts, Meyo had found his purpose and contentment, and it was also there that he felt safest. It was therefore the heaviest of ironies that his dreams would be cut short and his life thrown into disarray in his own home library, at the hands of people he couldn't even blame.

If there was anyone he was willing to point the finger at, it would have to be himself. He should have guarded the subject of his research better. In fact, he shouldn't have had it in the first place. Perhaps he should have even considered Nazar's advice and locked the library doors, but the very thought of barring someone else's access to the fount of knowledge he often took for granted was unfathomable. Therefore, he concluded that no one was truly to blame for what had happened, that it made no sense to waste valuable resources of time and energy in assigning culpability, while the problems at hand loomed larger and more forbidding.

Meyo was now out of his laboratory, which was to say he'd been exiled from the only home and comfort zone he'd ever had. He was to become his own research subject, conducting experiment after experiment in a new and untested environment, where he couldn't possibly account for all the variables.

Where was he to go? Who was he going to meet? And how could he possibly justify his sudden appearance?

Rubbing at his smarting forehead, he finally tried to move, raising first his arms to better anchor himself against the floor, then his shoulders, and only afterwards his head. His hands brushed against the sad remnants of his glasses as he fought for purchase, all the while trying to avoid serious cuts. Twisting his neck slowly, he winced as several muscles protested, but he kept at it until he faced the room at large.

Predictably, it was a vegetable storage facility with a special focus on green bottle gourds - the kind that grew only in a handful of regions to the northwest of the capital, at the foot of the Dorkesh mountains.

Meyo had already made his educated guesses regarding the purpose and functionality of the exchange conduit - or as its creator had dubbed it, The Great Swapping Thingamajig - and he was pleased with having been proven right on that account. At the same time, he did feel sorry for the other gourds he'd squashed as he switched places with one of their brethren, an exchange which must have unfortunately occurred before his own bewildered siblings. Just thinking of Tahni and Steppo brought about a pang of homesickness to Meyo's already aching chest, but he knew that the sentiment only masked his fear of the unknown, so he resolved to focus on the situation at hand.

Carefully, he twisted onto the floor and stretched his legs, resting his battered back against a tall crate. He breathed in slowly and closed his eyes, willing the pounding headache to subside as he focused on the next necessary steps.

The first matter was one of location. Knowing the general area where these particular gourds grew did not help him very much, apart from guaranteeing one aspect: he was very far from home, certainly out of walking distance.

The next problem related to purpose, and was a decision he could not postpone. Should he immediately try to head back to his family, or should he stay a while longer and investigate? Reluctant as he'd been to test the conduit, Meyo had to appreciate that this strange turn of events had made him take a shortcut in his overall investigation, since arriving here had been his intention all along. Of course he wished he could have conducted additional trials, written down other applications, or thought up an exhaustive list of potential risks. However, it was impossible for any one person to account for absolutely everything that could happen, since life was notoriously unpredictable, so his sole duty now was to make the best of the present circumstances.

He smiled briefly as another thought entered his mind, namely that with all his indecision and insistence on preparation, he'd been robbed of many possibilities of action, and dealt a hand with limited avenues of play. It was up to him to decide how he was to go about it.

A sudden shooting pain at the back of his skull brought to mind the third and most important issue: he was injured, and was in no state to properly consider the other two aspects if he did not see to that one before.

He sighed, then he slowly guided his bruised body into a standing position, holding on to the crate behind him for balance.

At a second glance, the room he found himself in was not particularly large, the several lines of towered crates giving it a labyrinthine feel that subsided if one actually stood and did not crouch down against them. There was a barred window, which let in the tentative sunlight of a fog-shrouded dawn. Meyo breathed in deeply, as if he could draw it all in, and he dared to dream of feeling fresh air again - it had been a long time since he'd left the capital. He might even go as far as considering this new outing as a kind of vacation, one that had been overdue after months on end of burying his nose in the writings of others, all the while hoping to improve his own.

He moved tentatively to the door, and the longer he stood, the more confident he felt in his stride. The headache did not subside, but at least he wasn't feeling dizzy anymore. By the time he leaned his ear against the keyhole the way Tahni had taught him, his heartbeat had almost returned to normal.

Silence seemed to reign on the other side of the door, and Meyo calmed down even more. He turned around to once again assess the storage space and glanced guiltily at the corner where he'd smashed one of the crates and scattered its contents. Still, he knew that if he tried to bow down now and pick them all up, his ears would start ringing and his head would swim, so he didn't even try.

What caught his eye was a separate pile of smaller boxes by the door, containing a mixed assortment of root vegetables. Meyo picked one up, once again bringing his sister's advice to mind - always finding a plausible excuse.

Of course, a strange man emerging from a storage room holding edible items wasn't much of an excuse, but it was the best one he could think of. If anybody asked after his purpose, he'd just say that he'd gotten lost, if someone commented on his disheveled appearance, he'd say that he'd taken a fall, and if someone accused him of being what he was - namely, an intruder - he'd just have to figure something out. Tahni had long accused him of a lack of creativity, but he knew that necessity was the ultimate catalyst in all aspects of life.

Resolving to cut his procrastination short, Meyo took a deep breath and confidently pushed down onto the handle.

The door didn't budge.

He tried again, twisting, then pushing some more, and finally pulling. Nothing happened, apart from gaining sudden cramps in his fingers which were unused to this kind of abuse. He stifled a groan and walked away from the door, depositing the smaller box back where he'd taken it from. He couldn't help but resent the owners' care for their food supplies, locking the door as a reasonable protection against thieves. Of course, he was no thief, but neither was he legally supposed to be here, and now his options appeared even more limited. His migraine had become a punishing force driving him to bang his head against the wall so he could relieve some of the pressure. Desperately, he turned to advice from the other relevant figure in his life.

Tahni was bound to find a way out of this room by disturbing it as little as possible, but Meyo currently lacked the patience and acuity to do it her way, so he tried to imitate his brother instead. What would Steppo do were he stuck here?

First, he'd swear, then he'd probably rail at the injustice, and if he had his dueling sword, he was perfectly capable of charging through solid walls in pursuit of the people he held responsible for his predicament. Even though he was a planner in day-to-day life, the elder Sebek sibling had more than once proven his penchant for using brute force if it could make thorny situations untangle any quicker.

Without giving himself time for further hesitation, Meyo picked up the discarded box, upturned it to throw away the contents, then proceeded to bash it against the handle. If the corridor outside had been silent before, the ruckus he was causing was bound to attract guards, inhabitants and any other person with functioning ears within the perimeter. Still, Meyo forced himself to continue, angling the edge of the box when the handle began to give way.

All in all, he made rather short work of the thing, and a subsequent kick was enough to push the door open at last. Meyo waited a few moments before venturing outside, wary that someone else might barge in and demand what he was up to. He wondered what the penalty might be for breaking out of a vegetable storage, and counted among his blessings the fact that the conduit only exchanged people with gourds and not priceless jewelry or gold coins.

After his breathing had slowed down, he poked his head through the door and eyed the corridor.

It was deserted.

Frowning, Meyo rubbed at his eyes, but he still couldn't make out any onrushing figures. And if he didn't put enough trust in his eyesight now that his glasses had been ruined, his unimpeded hearing betrayed no approaching steps either. By all accounts, he should have been pleased with this development and immediately taken the opportunity to make a run for it, but he found it difficult to come to terms with the situation. He hadn't landed in a cellar, it wasn't the middle of the night, and the dust-free room packed with fresh vegetables suggested frequent visitors. So why was it that no one had come to see what was going on?

Meyo forced himself to step out into the corridor and put a distance between himself and the room with the now shattered door lock. Sooner or later, the incident was bound to be discovered, and he had to conduct a thorough enough research of this new environment before he could devise an appropriate strategy.

He tiptoed carefully towards a better lighted area farther ahead, highly conscious of his unkempt appearance. Every once in a while he passed by a door on his left side, but there were no other notable features about this long stretch of hallway, apart from the etched walls, whose inscriptions were too fine for him to read.

At last, he reached a junction where two additional corridors met the one he had just emerged from. A quick glance above revealed a small domed ceiling engraved with a Pantheon sigil he remembered seeing before, but couldn't quite place at the moment. It wasn't one of the main gods, but still had the power to reassure him that he hadn't been wrong and he was still within Kassinem's borders, since their national deities were not eagerly embraced by foreigners.

Meyo turned slowly in place, aware that he had initially been heading south, but unsure as to what direction he should try next. Just then, he spotted the little alcove a little way further down one of the other corridors, and he picked up the faint echoing noises it brought forth. Both excitement and apprehension battled for his attention as he made his careful way to it, but it was relief that won out in the end.

As expected, the portal led out onto a small cobbled inner courtyard, surrounded by the high walls of the one-story structure Meyo had just left. He hadn't seen any stairs leading to the first floor, and he'd suffered a brief moment of pure panic when he considered the possibility of being forever stuck inside the hallways, like some of the unfortunate heroes of his childhood stories.

When he stepped foot outside, he offered his silent thanks to Channa, Darush, and any other god that might be paying attention as he followed the clear-cut path meandering through wildflower hedges and the odd juniper tree. Meyo could tell most of the species of plants present in the cramped surroundings, since his mother used to make them help her out in the gardens when they were little. They were all beautiful to look at, and he knew they proved their benefits in an entire array of domains, but he had never actually derived any true joy from tending them. Instead, he would sneak off to the library every chance he got, which happened more often than not since Tahni and Steppo were the more outspokenly disobedient.

Another twinge of homesickness made his heart skip a beat, and Meyo unconsciously covered his chest with his palm in an attempt to soothe it. Coaxing his curiosity out of its shell of fear, he made it wonder about the strangeness of this new place instead, and then he finally caught sight of real people further up ahead.

His immediate instinct was to dive behind the nearest flowerbed and cower for a good few minutes, hoping no one would come by and drag him out of his hiding place, but he forced himself to continue down the same path. He'd gotten lost, he needed directions, he was new in these parts, and other excuses presented themselves, awaiting his judgment on plausibility. He still hadn't made up his mind by the time he reached the end of the small road beneath a holly-wrapped arch leading out onto a veritable thoroughfare traversed by robed figures. As far as Meyo could tell, they were all heading down towards a flat wooden structure with the same Pantheon sigil he'd spotted earlier in the hallway.

He halted just beside one of the columns supporting the arch and considered. The sight made everything come into perspective and he might have even ventured a guess as to his exact location. It was clear now that this was a monastery, and the robed men were all monks in service of one of the gods - Meyo wasn't yet sure which one, so he could be reasonably certain of finding some form of assistance were his plea to fall on sympathetic ears. He couldn't yet say what these people thought of strangers wandering around their private spaces, but he could only hope they served a merciful and understanding god, and followed in His teachings.

Making an effort at appearing more confident than he had ever felt, Meyo stepped out onto the wider road and was immediately jostled by a sour-smelling heap of rags bundled up to resemble a grumbling human being.

Meyo bit his tongue in surprise, trying to stifle a scream so as not to attract even more attention, but the man who was now clutching onto him was perfectly capable of drawing every pair of curious eyes that happened to be around. He was drunk, for one. He was also dirty, slightly confused, and wearing the wrong-colored robes inside out. Meyo was at a loss regarding how he should proceed, but he could hardly shrug the man off or ask for assistance.

"'Scuse me, Revered," slurred the stranger, squinting at a point somewhere in the middle of Meyo's chin.

"I'm not the Revered," he replied calmly, quickly throwing out an arm in support when the man teetered dangerously to one side.

"You're not?" the other one asked in open astonishment, widening his clouded, blood-shot eyes. "Where'd that scoundrel be? I l-left him by the..." Meyo shut his eyes tightly, anticipating the moment when the drunk would throw up all over him, but he fortunately only hiccupped with conviction, then went on. "The barrel. Iz'e still there?"

He peered suspiciously up at Meyo, who struggled to make out the meaning of this interaction, as well as the fact that no one else paid them any mind. In fact, when Meyo analyzed some of the passing monks, he noticed that they were all wearing different-hued robes, mostly some variation of mustard. Additionally, they all appeared to have a slightly different cut, some of them even revealing their wearers' bare shoulders.

He frowned at this new development, aching to come up with plausible theories, but only after he'd gathered additional information. Glancing back at the wayward monk - at least, he assumed that was the man's status, given that he appeared to be living here - Meyo decided on a reasonable approach.

"You could use someone to look at you," he suggested mildly, guiding the man further up the road, away from the place of worship. "Do you remember the way to the medical facility?"

The other one scowled and leaned to the side to spit, hitting a delicate forget-me-not right in the center.

"I d'wanna go there," he complained, making a feeble attempt at breaking away from Meyo's iron-hard grasp.

"But that's where the Reverend is," lied Meyo, marveling at his own composure. "I thought you were looking for him."

The man paused, hesitantly putting one foot in front of the other.

"Tha' bastard swore he'd never take there stuff again," he pondered, the words thick and slurred on his tongue. He then glanced guiltily at his own shoes before confessing: "I d'remember the way."

"That's alright," said Meyo, whose headache had gradually subsided throughout this odd exchange, giving way to the alertness of genuine intrigue. "We'll ask around."