They rode into Holy Gelusar - the city legend said was founded by the Great Light Himself.  The vast, sprawling city was the center of all Nidorian culture.  For two thousand and more years, it had stood almost unchanged.  The city spread out radially from its center, the Great Temple, where the mighty Council of Sixteen Elders ruled the world of Nidor according to the Scripture and the Law.

Kiv and Narla guided their deests through a crowded thoroughfare that led toward the heart of the city, looking for a public communicator.  They finally found one near a shabby little side street that edged off toward the river.  A few black-clad sailors lounged about, evidently just having come up the Tammul river from the southerly harbor of Tammulcor.  Dismounting, Kiv eyed them uneasily; coming from a line of farmers and priests, he had a deep-rooted dislike for seamen, who tended, in the main, to be a blaspheming lot.

Kiv entered.  A chubby little man behind the counter took Kiv's request.

"This is a local call, then, not long distance," muttered the clerk, half to himself.  "Hmmm.  That will be three pieces and four."

Kiv scooped a ring of coins from his vest, unclipped several, and handed them over.  He walked to the booth and closed the door.  Then, picking up the microphone, he flipped the switch.
"Communications central, " said a voice from the speaker.

"This is Kiv peGanz Brajjyd.  I have a message for the Uncle of Public Works."

"One moment."  Kiv heard a series of clicks over the speaker, and then a new voice.

"Office of Public Works.  What is it, please?"

"I'm bearing a message for the Uncle from Grandfather Dom peBril Sesom at the Bridge of Klid.  He asked me to tell you that he needs another squad of men if he's going to get the bridge repaired for the evening traffic."

"And your name?"

Kiv identified himself, was thanked, and cut the connection.

Outside the communications office, he found Narla talking to an elderly man - a farmer, obviously, judging by his dress.

"- and I tell you, something has to be done!" the farmer was saying.  "My sons and their families are fighting desperately now, but if we run short of Edris powder, there won't be a crop this year."