When Sarla disembarked the train, she had to resist the urge to connect to the Meadowlark to clean the air around her.
The station in Makiwen stank of dirt and grime, and it was far busier than stations in the Haven had been.
Worse than the smell was the attention.
In the Haven, Sarla could glare at starers and let them awkwardly pretend they hadn't been staring.
Here, though, yaks and dwarves alike eyed here with cautious curiosity.

―Why are they staring? she asked Mijesi.

―It's the robes.

―Aren't they used to it?
	People travel to and from the Office of Knowledge.

Mijesi shook his head.

―Not often.
	Most in the Office are lay people anyway.
	Not many other nuns.

Sarla grew somewhat accustomed to the attention as they moved through the station, with people looking at her until they got their fill.
There was a loud chatter in the air around her, the clipped staccato of Border.
The handful of other passengers on Sarla's train walked far more quickly.
More familiar with the station, most likely.

The passenger cars opened to the same platform as the freight cars, and as Mijesi and Sarla walked through the station cranes were unloading and loading containers on the train.
Stairs led to an upper level, to the main floor of the station, and from there, Sarla could see the other side of the tracks.
A line of great stone archways at the end of the wall swallowed stacks of containers.

―The great Tunnels of Makiwen, Mijesi said.
	Mountberg run.
	Those are Mountberg Dwarrowfolk, he said as he indicated the dwarves with long beards near the archways.
	Mostly Border Dwarrows live here, but Mountberg controls the Passages.
	The Republic pretends to run it.

As he said this, he pointed down past the rail platform they'd come from.
There was a patrol of yaks in blue uniform―the Makiwen City Garrison―carrying spears with other weapons at the ready.
Mijesi continued down the hallway.

Near the end lay a large staircase, with station security waiting in front.
Two Garrison yaks were standing by, but most of the security personnel wore station uniforms.
One dwarf called them over, then said something in rapid Border.
Mijesi responded, and the dwarf seemed to look a bit agitated.


Another dwarf came by, and said something to Sarla.
Mijesi's dwarf was pulling him away, as Sarla shook her head in a lack of understanding.
The dwarf frowned, and Mijesi shouted in Border, gesturing at Sarla.
Sarla's dwarf called over for a yak colleague.

―Miss, come with me, the yak said.

They led Sarla behind Mijesi, through side hallways.
Eventually, the dwarf and yak took Sarla into a room, and sat her down.

They chatted between them in Border, leaving Sarla bewildered.
Clearly, they had done something to offend security, but she had no idea what it was, or why it didn't cause any reaction before they reached the security point.

―Excuse me, but what the fuck is going on?, Sarla asked.

The yak gave her a stern glance.

―Mind your language, miss.
	Be patient.

The yak returned to talking to the dwarf, leaving Sarla to stare at the room.

The room had little furniture, besides a table and a handful of uncomfortable metal chairs of various sizes.
Meant for both yaks and dwarves, she thought.
Maybe other beasts too.

The table's thin wood felt insubstantial and cheaply made.
Scratches across its surface suggested it was older.
The whole room felt cramped.

As exhaustion from travelling started to hit Sarla, she instinctively reached to the Meadowlark.
The moment she did, the dwarf snapped out of the conversation, focussing on Sarla and saying something in Border.

―No magic, the yak translated gruffly.

―What?
	I'm a Practicant, Sarla said while indicating her robes.

―I don't care if you're wearing the Hierarch's robes.
	No magic.

―This is ridiculous.
	Even the Republic respects the birthright.

―Not here.
	The Transport Authority sets the rules.
	Complain later if you want.

Sarla huffed to herself, but didn't touch the Meadowlark again.

After a few minutes, the door opened and another dwarf walked in.

―Practicant Sarla?, she asked, with no trace of an accent.

Sarla nodded.

―Wards detected magic.
	Your companion said you were the cause.
	Can you use the Meadowlark?

The yak near her spoke up before she could say anything.

―She used it here.
	It's her.

―Fine, the new dwarf said.
	Then let me warn you, Sarla.
	The Transport Authority is very strict on magic use.
	Especially near the Tunnels.

She started to leave and gestured for Sarla to follow.

―The City Garrison takes security seriously as well.
	There aren't many Practicants in the city, so you are immediately suspicious.
	It's expected you will follow local laws.
	Understood?

―Yes, Sarla said, despite not entirely knowing what local laws entailed.

They reached Mijesi, and Mijesi and Sarla entered the station.

―Sorry, Mijesi said after a bit.
	Didn't warn you.

―It's okay.
	I don't know why they reacted like that.
	Not like I'm hiding being a Practicant.

―Mountberg doesn't like beast magic.
	The Republic doesn't like magic.
	And Border Dwarrowfolk don't like Mountberg or the Republic.
	High tensions.

Sarla thought about that as they left the station, and started to walk to the Flockhouse.

The Ennearch of Knowledge had her Offices in the largest Flockhouse in Makiwen.