Miria lifted both eyebrows as she watched the jinni leave. She expected him to bolt out of the cart like a cat sprayed with water, but instead he shuffled out, moving quite strangely, and even paused to give her a bow of respect. She didn't return the bow, far too anxious to do much of anything except tap her foot and wait patiently for him to leave. She kept casting anxious glances at the guard, hoping the jinni would get out of the area before the guard to turned to see. Just go already! she wanted to shout if she didn't worry so much about drawing attention to herself and to the jinni.
At last, he moved out of sight around the corner, and Miria released a sigh of relief. "Hopefully, we never see him again," she murmured to Raha, giving the donkey an affectionate pat on his neck before hoisting her bags up and moving around the cart to dump them inside.
She saw the urn almost immediately; the cart was simple without cubby holes, drawers, or the like, and the only other thing in it was the canvas tarp. With a frown, she pulled the tarp aside, shoved the bags into the cart, then climbed in, stepping over her belongings to investigate the vase. It certainly looked like an urn, which was what stopped Miria from picking it up right away. Already she could feel her skin crawl; why would the jinni leave the remains of someone in her cart? She had dealt with enough death in her lifetime to be used to things like this, but the manner in which this particular urn was presented to her made her feel uneasy.
Perhaps the jinni was hiding something. Perhaps the contents in the vase weren't at all ashes. Hesitantly, she lifted the lid of the urn to peer inside.
The material certainly looked like ashes, and Miria closed the lid at once, wiping her fingers vigorously on her clothing and wondering why a jinni would leave a person's remains in her cart... unless he was hiding something within the ashes.
Dread followed the thought, Miria not wanting to handle the urn more than she had to. She could always just dump the ashes somewhere, but what if the urn really did contain nothing but ashes? She didn't feel right scattering the remains of someone that she didn't even know, yet she had to be sure of the contents. If her cart was inspected in the morning and the guards found something strange in the urn, she'd be arrested.
Miria hopped out of the cart and wandered around the darkened square until she found a twig suitable enough for her needs. Satisfied, she rubbed it clean the best she could then climbed back into the cart, carefully re-opening the lid to the urn. Cringing and barely able to stand to watch her own progress, she stirred the ashes with the stick, relieved when she felt nothing out of the ordinary. With a grimace, she discarded the stick over the edge of the cart, closed the urn, then gently picked it up. She looked around and spotted a shadowed crevice against the wall of the inn. Glancing about to make sure she wasn't being watched, she placed the urn in this crevice, satisfied with her decision to leave it.
This satisfaction gradually changed as she prepared Raha and herself to rest for the night and for the journey the following morning. Her mind kept drifting to the brief conversation she had with the jinni. His master had died and he was tasked with one final order. What if that task was to scatter or bury the remains of his master somewhere? Perhaps the jinni had somehow forgotten the urn.
Thoroughly annoyed by her current situation, Miria trudged back to the spot where she had left the urn, picking it up with care. She ought to be looking for that jinni to return his urn, but she had no idea how to find him, especially if he was still actively trying to make sure he couldn't be found. Frankly, she couldn't stay up all night to look for him. Grumbling under her breath, Miria set the urn at the end of the cart where the jinni could easily grab it if he returned, then she settled in for the night.
~~~
Departure mornings were always very stressful, this morning no exception. Miria rose before dawn, hurrying to wash up and prepare to leave. Despite the early hour, the inn was bustling with other merchants doing the same thing; Miria had to wait in line for food. To make matters worse, Raha decided to be stubborn, refusing to move from his seemingly never-ending supply of hay. After much coaxing, a lot of swearing, and offering Raha a dried date, they were finally on the move, Miria rushing to get to the city's front gate.
Here, too, was a line, and she groaned, worried that she would miss her caravan. Only a caravan leader had the magical connections to get heavy carts across the desert sands. Only caravan leaders knew how to navigate these sands without getting lost, and only caravan leaders had the means to protect the party from bandits. Miria had already paid the caravan leader the night before for her spot in the caravan, but she knew that it would not wait for her. Traveling the desert without a caravan leader was almost a death sentence.
Finally, after what felt like ages, it was her turn at the gate. She waited patiently for the guard to check her things, waiting for the usual, "Nothing strange here, move long," but instead got, "What's this?"
She turned in her seat, surprised, then gaped when she saw the urn in the guard's hands. She had completely forgotten about it! "Those are my uncle's ashes," she blurted out. "He died recently, so--"
"Mmm-hmm," the guard replied absentmindedly, opening the urn. He brandished a small dagger, stirring it inside the urn, squinting at the contents, then taking a sniff. "Where is your uncle from?"
"He died in Hudris a little while ago," Miria rattled, angry with herself for forgetting the urn. "I have not yet arrived at the designated spot to--"
"Mmm-hmm, move along!" The guard set the urn back down, then motioned for the next person in line to step forward.
Miria did not need to be told twice. She nudged Raha forward, the open desert spreading before her. And, with luck, Miria found her caravan group, the leader a little delayed due to a heated verbal dispute with another caravan leader. After an exchange of hearty insults, her group finally began the move, Miria at once more relaxed knowing that she would make the trip safely.
She wondered why the jinni hadn't returned for his urn over night; had he been arrested? Suspecting that she would never see him again, she decided that when the caravan camped for the evening, she would gesture a small token of respect towards the remains of this unknown person she assumed was the jinni's master and leave the urn there.
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