Yes.

"Well call me a fish and throw me in a lake," says the fort commander, but he commandeers a bigger bag of holding for the rest of the diamonds and authorizes the use of a Teleport scroll for one of the wizards to take Samora and optionally Cam to Vigil. Losing Samora, the wizard, the soldier holding the door, and the soldier stationed in the bar in case anything happens to the guy on the door is going to mess with the patrol schedule something serious, but if you can't abuse Keep Watch for an opportunity like this, when can you?

"- I can't go to Vigil, I have to stay here till the - I should get some Elves in here but they still would have a hard time finding a replacement to do all the resurrections, I can't make it possible that I become unavailable."

"Could someone here summon your kind of demon as a replacement? Ah, no, then the replacement would become unavailable if they died. I'll try to be back today and if I'm not back by tomorrow morning I'll try to Sending you an update."

"You don't have to actually send me updates, just write it down under the words 'letter to Cam' and I'll check whenever I'm wondering what's keeping you. - uh, I'll make you some stationery since you don't like actually know English and I don't have your language to designate a new mail label." Voilà.

If these folks would let the door shut for a second Cam will open the door to a different universe and call Alassëo in and give him an explanation and send him to sing in the backyard and kill time.

They're fine letting the door shut if they understand correctly that Petrai will be able to open it again when he's done in the infirmary. (They're killing two birds with one stone. The patrol schedule is a harsh mistress.)

The infirmary is categorically adequate to his needs!

Excellent. Off to Vigil! Or rather to a designated teleport arrival zone a short walk from the main gate. 

"State yer business."

"Select Samora, fifth circle, delivering a donation to the treasury and I need to meet with someone who can get me in touch with the Archbanker for a related matter."

There ensues appropriately rigorous procedure to make sure that that's on the up and up and then she can go through.

Once they're through the gates, there are additional Forbiddances to walk through on the way to the treasury, where a clerk asks for the value of the donation and who it's from. 

"I'm afraid that's classified, tier 3, and if it's at all possible I'd like to deliver it directly to the Exchequer, ideally already in a vault."

"Your oath this won't endanger him? You'll have to walk out the same way you went in."

"I swear the valuables are not significantly dangerous on their own sitting in a vault, or in my hands even if I meant to do ill with them. They could be dangerous given to someone else."

"The Exchequer won't be free for another three hours."

"I can wait." An attempt to claim it isn't scale-of-hours urgent dies on her tongue; there are people risking their lives at the Worldwound and people being damned in Cheliax and at this scale those--not matter, they always matter, they need to be taken into account. "But if you interrupt him, he'll be glad you did."

The clerk looks at Samora's headband and her face and says he can't guarantee anything but he'll knock on the exchequer's door. 

As soon as he's out of the room and out of earshot, Samora takes a minute--the first calm minute she's had since she opened the chapel door--to kneel and stop controlling her facial expression and pray. (She isn't completely alone, but the wizard understands. He's praying too.) It turns out what her face wants to be doing is a mad hysterical grin and her prayers are hardly more coherent. 

Iomedae--look! Goddess of decisive strikes and broken stalemates, warrior whose eyes are always searching past the horizon for the path to victory, this is Yours, this could matter. Thank You for everything You've built to turn resources into Good. Thank You for the guidance I've had in my life that let me get this far. The other worlds may be beyond Your reach but I know they are not beyond Your concern. Please help me be equal to everything ahead. 

There's no answer, reassuringly. By the time the Exchequer arrives, Samora is on her feet and composed again. 

The Exchequer has a neat gray beard, keen gray eyes, and the slight hunch of a man who's sat at a desk for decades. "Alright, what do you have that you think is so important."

She opens the larger bag and holds it out. "It is what it looks like. It gets weirder from here."

"Weirder, you say."

"I need to talk to someone who can cast True Resurrection." The Exchequer never leaves Vigil and has clearance for practically everything. "Or possibly Wish, if True Resurrection doesn't work outside Creation."

"You need to give a full report to one of the Precentor Martials first. What manner of madness is it?"

"Extraplanar and diplomatic."

"Hmmmm, I'll drop it on Jimmy then. That's His Excellency Count Jamanthor, Precentor Martial for Diplomacy to you. I'd better walk you up there myself so he doesn't decide you're insane. After I get that bag of yours squared away."

"Thank you very much, I keep looking over my shoulder for pit fiends." She holds out both bags. "There's, uh, more than fit in one bag."

His Excellency Count Jamanthor, Precentor Martial for Diplomacy is wearing a headband as good as Samora's and is old enough to be her grandfather, and he listens to her full story in complete but highly attentive silence and then asks about fifty questions.

"How confident are you in Cam's intentions?"

"More confident than I am about most parts of the whole business. I don't know much about other Creations or physical souls, but I know what sort of person does what he did and is doing what he's doing."

"How good of a judge of character are you? Be honest not modest."

"In my adventuring days I made truces with multiple sets of Chaotic Evil mortals and I've never been betrayed where I didn't expect to be."

"Think he'd take an Atonement?"

"Take one, yes, but if you'll excuse me, your excellency, he'd think less of us for wanting it."

"How so?"

"He's never had to think about going before the Judge. It would be--interrogating him on personal matters, purely to satisfy our fears, when we'd already represented ourselves as believing him and willing to cooperate."

"What do you think this Bar person's goals are?"

"Limited to within Milliways, I think. Within that scope, generally benevolent, though in a way where I wouldn't expect her to be less benevolent towards bad actors. The Landlords are more mysterious, but providing an infirmary and forbidding violence are more good signs than bad."

"And he said he could make documents based on the title?"

"He said he could check anything I wrote on this stationery and that if he knew my native language he could 'designate a new mail label'."

"Hrrrm. I'll need to meet with some people about that."

"My colleague said you were fifth circle?"

"Yes, your excellency."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"When did you hit fifth? This morning?"

"Shortly before my enlistment, your excellency."

"Been leading an interesting life, haven't you. Tell me more about those deals with Chaotic Evil mortals."

The eventual upshot of it all is that Samora is relieved of her post at Araval's Fort and appointed the Ambassador to Milliways. The position comes with permission to live at Araval's Fort indefinitely, a salary of "I don't have time to get one approved and I doubt you care", and permission to classify things Tier 5 except the fort commander has to be told if he needs to know. Also a letter of introduction to Felandriel Morgethai and a teleport to Almas.

Almas! The greatest city in the greatest city in the greatest city in the woooooooorld Andoran!

"I'm afraid the Provost is teaching a seminar right now, you'll have to come back later."