You ride through the streets in relative comfort. the cliff and the sea dominate the background, but hte foreground is a mixture of wonders and mundane - normal, boring humans conversing at cafes with beings of light and shadow, flyers leaping off crows' nests high above, falling a distance before swooping elegantly away, or circling, wings outstretched, to slowly descend or ascend, or flitting bit by bit, seemingly erratically, moving to a rhythm you can't quite detect. at one point, you see a house stand on eight legs and move slowly across another road. where a house has to be that it isn't already is anyone's guess.
those unused to the city life crane their necks in awe (Thrips' fake sulk turning to open jawed wonder after a short time), and those used to city life experience a weird disorientation, as of being somehow out of place. the mix of familiar and foreign is enough to disturb anyone's equilibrium to some extent. PYLON sees another PYLON at some point, and Cho Ja senses an enclave of bugmen, though not of his own race.
Altair does nothing, which is odd - I thought he wanted to work on his constructs?
Anyway, you arrive at the bakery - a vast kitchen, on an industrial scale, in fact. Yo are delivering some rather exotic spices here, and they need to be delivered specifically to the Spice Master. You'll be picking up a cartful of more mundane ingredients for the rather plain fare that Omega provides. Of course, there is a bit of flex in the accounts, giving you some extra spending credit, so a little extra could be arranged, if negotiated properly. By someone who's charisma isn't an invitation to a lynching.
After this, there is a potions shop, and a manufactory for some clockwork parts before you head back up to the desert.