Matabar

Only now, after meeting both the Ragman and the Dandy, did Ardan notice the subtle similarity between these two individuals. And no, it wasn't about their looks, since one resembled an otter, and the other a mixture of a cat and a fox. Nor was it about their clothing, as Belsky dressed quite conservatively. Even now, without a jacket, his sleeves rolled up to reveal a pair of black tattoos — one depicting a skull biting a strand of barbed wire, and the other an angel weeping at a grave — he still managed to look quite restrained.

From materials Milar had once given his partner to study, Ardi had learned that tattoos were exceedingly rare and unusual in the Empire. This was because of two reasons: first, they evoked memories of the tribal markings of orcs, ogres and goblins, who had adorned their bodies with such art back in the days of Ectassus' rule. And on top of that, tattoos were also associated with Selkado and their military Star Mages.

But that wasn't the main point.

The Dandy looked dignified and formal. He was wearing gray trousers with white pinstripes, extremely expensive, polished shoes, a watch, and a wedding ring. His shirt was nearly whiter than the few silver strands in his hair, which, at that moment, looked more like a raven's nest. Then again, if it was true that the Dandy had spent the entire night personally auditioning all the performers, it was hardly surprising.

In fact, that might explain the dark circles under his eyes. Even his usually well-groomed stubble, which tried to pass itself off as casual scruff, now looked genuinely unkempt.

So no, it was not their appearance, nor was it their mannerisms. It was something else, something intangible, and it irritated Ardi that he couldn't pinpoint what that thing was.

"Let's sit." The Dandy extended his hand toward the central seats of the front row and, without waiting for Ardi, loosened his bow tie and headed in that direction.

For a moment, Ardan remained where he was. It would have been foolish not to be wary of someone like the Dandy. As Aergar had used to say, only a fool abandoned caution when facing any sort of predator, even a weak one.

And there was no doubt that Arthur Belsky was a predator. Misjudging the strength of such a man would be an unforgivable luxury. A weak man could never rise to lead the criminal underworld of the Empire's capital, conducting his affairs right under the nose of both the Second Chancery and the Guard, all the while remaining within the limits that kept far more dangerous forces from taking an interest in him.

It would take someone clever, calculating, cold-blooded, and most importantly, ruthless and cruel, to pull that off.

Ardan gripped his staff more firmly and ran his ring across his belt (Aversky had given him several Green and Red Star accumulators from his personal stash). With a sharp click, the platform with a crystal locked into place on the ring. It wasn't like Ardi suspected he would need to use magic here, exactly… But, just like having a revolver at his side, it was comforting to know he had the option.

It helped him keep calm.

Following behind the Dandy, Ardan took off his coat and laid it between himself and Arthur, then settled one seat away. The stage rose a little higher before his eyes, although perhaps he just felt lower and-

"You've never been to a theater before, Mr. Egobar," the Dandy observed. As he had done back in the private Irtiad club, Arthur lounged in his seat. Crossing one leg over the other, he toyed with a cigar cutter between his fingers. "Considering where you're from, that's entirely understandable, but I believe you've lived in the capital for nearly nine months now, if I'm not mistaken. A terrible oversight, young man."

The Dandy spoke in the same manner he had used with Milar before the captain had asked him to "speak plainly." This time, Ardi did not feel like there was a dagger pressed to his throat.

By the Sleeping Spirits, had he not known who exactly was sitting beside him, he might have assumed that he was simply in the company of a somewhat eccentric, but nonetheless educated and refined man. Someone who was used to working with his head rather than his hands.

"I'm not trying to hint," Arthur added quickly, "that I know your biography and intend to use it. Nor am I about to exert pressure or blackmail you with my knowledge of your… friendly relationship with Miss Tess Orman."

Ardan remained silent. He was, as the Colonel might've put it, sticking to his strategy.

"I trust you know why."

In his mind, Ardi exhaled wearily. Again, it was just as the Colonel had said — sometimes, you had to choose a slightly different approach.

"To be honest," he replied, his dry lips moving while his equally-dry throat almost made him cough, "I don't understand it at all."

"Really?" Arthur's face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. "Well, I won't mock the Second Chancery for failing to uphold its usual standards… But I understand why you might… not understand. Forgive the tautology. We've spent the entire night listening to new, and not-so-new, talent. Fatigue, you understand."

The Dandy gave Ardan a knowing glance that conveyed better than any words ever could that the criminal (though calling the man a mere 'criminal' was probably an understatement) had easily noticed the signs of invigorating tonic use.

Seeing that Ardi was not inclined to speak again, the Dandy continued.

"Perhaps you think that I have enough, shall we say" — Arthur clicked his cigar cutter meaningfully — "opportunities at my disposal that I need not worry too much about the Governor-General of Shamtur. Or that I could arrange things in such a way that no one could point a finger at me with absolute certainty."

Ardan felt a puff of cold air escape his lips.

"But in truth, Mr. Egobar," Arthur went on, acting as if he hadn't seen it — just like back at the Irtiad — "you, in turn, have the power to send me to the Eternal Angels right here and now. As you can see, I am here without any bodyguards, without a weapon, without any form of protection."

Arthur spread his arms wide, underscoring the truth of his words.

"My esteemed business partners from the concert hall have all gone home to their families. Meanwhile, I'll have to come up with some explanation for my wife. Alas, that's the price of work." Arthur flipped the cutter into the air, caught it between his index and middle finger, then, like a practiced card sharp, waved his hand and made it vanish. One more wave, and the little silver guillotine appeared again. He wasn't showing off so much as simply keeping his fingers nimble. "Forgive the digression… But as you can see, I am alive. You haven't killed me, though you could. And I, for my part, could do something or other — but I'm not doing it. Possibilities do not always imply an immediate need to act, Mr. Egobar."

"Let's assume that's true," Ardan replied, keeping his hand on his staff so that he could weave a seal at any moment if he needed to. "Why are we having this conversation right now?"

The Dandy regarded him with genuine surprise.

"Do you always need a weighty reason, Mr. Egobar, just to spend a bit of time talking pleasantly with someone?"

Perhaps Ard could have said he found the Dandy disagreeable, but in truth, that wouldn't have been entirely accurate. No, Ardan didn't exactly like the kingpin of the criminal world, but he felt no particular dislike for him, either.

He simply didn't know him. Personally, that is. Ardan's impression was based solely on the fact that Arthur belonged to the criminal underworld — the very same underworld to which Arkar belonged, with whom Ardan, and Tess, and even Boris and Elena had… unusual connections. It wasn't quite friendship, but certainly something more than a casual acquaintance.

"You're not on duty at the moment, Corporal. Nor am I 'on the job,'" Arthur retrieved a cigar from his vest pocket, snipped off the end, and lit it with a simple match. A plume of smoke swirled up, redolent of pine, leather and strong liquor. "So, there's nothing preventing us from simply talking."

"About what?" Ardan asked, waving the smoke away. "With all due respect, Mr. Belsk-"

"Just Arthur is fine."

"In that case, just Ard is fine for me."

"Wonderful." The Dandy took a deep drag of his cigar and exhaled a dense, perfectly-formed smoke ring. "I'm not offering you a handshake because I suspect that, due to your youth and prejudice, you might refuse to shake it, and then I'd be forced to respond in some way. So, let's avoid putting us both in that awkward position."

Ardi couldn't tell if that was a threat, a random observation, or something else. He simply did not understand Arthur. The man was far too different from any other criminal Ardan had ever encountered — and Ardi had come across quite a few of them.

"With all due respect, Arthur, we really don't have any common ground to discuss."

"With all due respect," the Dandy repeated slowly. "I've never truly understood that phrase. If you respect someone's mind, Ard, then you assume they're intelligent enough to sense you're not trying to offend them. And if you are aware that your conversation partner's strengths lie in something other than intellect, then no matter how many times you talk about respect, they'll feel affronted anyway, by virtue of their own foolishness."

Ardan was not using his Witch's Gaze. He simply couldn't do both — keep up the Gaze and simultaneously hold the seal's blueprint in his mind, ready to cast a spell at any moment.

Even so, Arthur's near-monologue did not seem to be happening due to Ardi's Gaze. Of that, Ardi felt certain.

"I never really thought about it," Ardan admitted honestly.

"See, Ard, we're talking already." Arthur allowed himself a slight smile. "Give it a moment, and you might even ask me about the origin of my…" — the Dandy raised his forearms, displaying his black tattoos — "…and I might reward you with one of the dozen tall tales I usually make up out of boredom. It's a rather tiring question, after all, and it's just idle curiosity."

Ardan nearly blurted out a question in spite of himself. Were it not for that comment from the Dandy, Ardan would have had no interest in the tattoos at all, but now it felt as though they concealed some mystery.

"Getting back to our initial topic, Ard," Arthur continued, "I have no intention of exerting pressure on you, nor do I plan on using Miss Orman as leverage. Because I know" — for the first time in their conversation, Arthur looked Ardi straight in the eye, and Ardan understood that the man was lying when he claimed to have no protection — "I know with absolute certainty that if I did attempt such a thing, you would do everything in your power to inflict upon me a fate that would be even worse than a simple death. I can see that in you, Ard. A certain wild and dark cruelty. It's easy to detect in another what you yourself possess … And it's there, inside of you, even if you don't realize it yet."

A memory flashed through Ardi's mind — Lorlov's eyes, wide with horror after she'd realized that her fate was sealed.

"Or perhaps you do realize it… which is all the better for you," Arthur said, exhaling another cloud of smoke and flicking the ash into a simple tin can he must have brought with him. "You might be able to guess why none of my enemies ever risk laying so much as a finger on my wife or children, despite knowing exactly who they are?"

Ardan recalled what Milar had said about how the Second Chancery dealt with anyone who harmed the family of a Cloak.

"Because they fear what you'd do to them."

"Almost, Ard, but not quite. You see," Arthur sighed and leaned his head back against the chair's plush headrest, "knowledge like that only deters those who aren't willing to go all the way. Those who are uncertain of their own strength, unwilling to risk everything. And the majority of people are exactly like that. But there's always a rare exception — a unique individual who won't be stopped by anything. I've encountered enough of both in my lifetime, Ard, to learn how to see who a person really is, rather than what they claim to be."

Ardan… said nothing. He would never harm the Dandy's wife and children, regardless of what happened between them.

The faint scent of spring herbs, the kind that grow by a stream, filled the air. The scent of Tess.

Or… perhaps…

Ardi looked at Arthur.

For an instant, real terror seized him. One so deep it made him tremble.

But he wasn't afraid of the man sitting next to him.

He feared himself.

And the secret he had just discovered about himself — a secret he would strive to conceal even from his own mind.

"The only difference between you and us, Ard," the Dandy continued, clearly referring to far larger groups that encompassed the two of them, "is that life forced us to think of ourselves first, and you to think of others. Still, both we and you… we're not like the rest. Our hands will not shake, and we stand ready to bear the consequences — or at least we think so. Either way, I'd rather keep our relationship amicable when we have no conflicting interests. And if we ever do end up at odds, well then, so be it. We'd be adversaries, perhaps even enemies if things truly go poorly, but nothing more."

Nothing more… In Ardi's limited life experience, "enemy" was already the worst category of negative relationship. He couldn't imagine something beyond that.

But apparently, the Dandy could.

"If I may be frank, Arthur?"

"Of course, Ard. Don't hold back."

"You're a very strange person."

"And do you think you aren't strange?" The Dandy asked at once, wearing a faintly mischievous grin. "But alas, Ard, I'm afraid our not-so-pleasant little chat — which was nearly a monologue, as I'm sure you noticed — must come to an end. If I stay here for even half an hour more, I'll have to deal with a wife who's not just upset, but thoroughly distressed. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I must take my leave."

Arthur tipped an imaginary hat at him, dropped his cigar into the can, picked it up, and rose.

"And-"

"And Miss Orman," Arthur interrupted, "was intended to be the crown jewel of our program ever since I signed the documents for joining this venture. Rest assured, Ard, that within a couple of years, everyone in the capital will know of your… friend, and within a few more, the entire country will as well. Forgive me if I'm being tactless, but you might want to brace yourself for that."

Ardan blinked, puzzled.

"I also trust that you'll keep quiet about my… less-than-reputable pursuits, as well as my line of work, when it comes to her. After all, despite knowing who I am, you didn't stop her from appearing here, which shows you have a certain pragmatic wisdom. And to thank you for that small favor, let's say…" — Arthur tilted his head to the side and smiled in a way that was both catlike and foxlike — "…I owe you a small favor in return."

The Dandy turned and headed for the exit. Ardan could find nothing better to do than call out to the odd criminal.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"In that case, Arthur, in exchange for that favor, tell me — what do you know about the Order of the Spider and the upcoming auction?"

Arthur froze, as if rooted to the spot. For several moments, he said nothing, then spoke in a soft, measured tone, the same one he had used with Milar, "I said I owed you a small favor, Corporal." Ardi felt a razor-sharp blade against his throat, waiting to bite into his neck. "If you want to do business, Corporal, then let's talk business, not engage in idle chatter. But then it wouldn't be your friend Tess on stage — it would be the friend of a Second Chancery corporal."

Ardan clenched his staff, and icy patterns snaked across the floor. He now understood what the Dandy had been trying to tell him in such a veiled, roundabout way. As long as they maintained their neutrality, aside from some occasional shared interests, neither of them had to worry about their loved ones.

The Spiders clearly had no direct link to Arthur Belsky, but if he started giving out answers left and right, even in passing, that balance would crumble. And not just regarding the Spiders, either…

"Let's pretend, Ard, that this long night has worn us both down so much that I didn't hear a thing," Arthur said, his tone calmer once again, as the sensation of a knife at Ardi's throat and the icy filigree on the floor both vanished. "There will always be a balcony seat available for friends and family of the performers here at our concert hall, and you're welcome at the Irtiad anytime. I rarely set foot in there, so that's not a personal invitation from me. I was simply upset by how you were treated at the gates last time, so I set things straight. The rudeness was uncalled for. And now… well, I leave you in good hands."

Without turning around, Arthur gave him a brief nod and walked briskly away, disappearing behind the doors leading to the foyer. Barely a moment passed before a soft rustle from behind the heavy stage curtains signaled Tess' appearance. She stood alone, with no musicians accompanying her.

She wore the same dress she had worn the very first time they'd met — black and glittering, plunging nearly to her midriff, and with a slit up to her thigh. And yet, on Tess, it looked neither vulgar nor overly suggestive.

"Ardi!" She exclaimed. Coming to the edge of the stage, she gathered up the hem of her gown, dropped into a crouch, and smiled at him.

Ardan, whose mind had just been awash in thoughts of demons, Spiders, Star Magic, and criminals, felt it all vanish the instant he saw her.

Tess smiled, bright and carefree. And somehow, the entire concert hall grew lighter, as though the summer sun had peeked inside.

"I'm so sorry," she said with a faint frown. "The schedule shifted a bit, and we finished auditions almost an hour ago… and guess what?"

"What?" Ardi asked gently, though he already knew the answer.

"No, guess!"

"I really can't say," he teased her back.

"We were picked!" Tess exclaimed, flinging her arms up so quickly she almost fell. Ardi caught her around the knees just in time. "Oh… thanks. They wanted to do the grand opening of the concert hall in mid-summer, but now they've moved it to the first day of the Month of Saints. They're having some issues with the Ley-cabling here."

"Really? How terrible… Hopefully you won't burn down."

"Hey, Ardi-the-wizard, don't jinx us."

"I'll try not to."

"Promise?"

"Of course," Ardan said, smiling.

Tess smiled too — she already was, but now her eyes smiled as well.

"Eternal Angels, Ardi! The acoustics here are unbelievable!" Tess jumped to her feet and, like a child, called out: "Heeeeeeey!"

Her voice echoed off the walls, growing louder and louder even without a Ley-microphone to amplify it. Tess laughed and shouted something else, while Ardi watched her. She was radiant and lighter than a feather.

Tess didn't know. She didn't know who Arthur Belsky really was. She didn't concern herself with Arkar or the Orcish Jackets. She had never meddled in that swamp of crime. And from what she'd said, Arthur hadn't been the only one present at the auditions. So… Tess simply didn't know. Yes, there might've been rumors floating around the city about Arthur's shady dealings as a patron, but…

Ardan stood there, looking at her and smiling just as foolishly and lightheartedly as she was.

He probably ought to tell her. Sooner or later, all secrets would come to light. Tess would eventually learn whose concert hall she'd been invited to sing in, and her resolve to avoid any relationship with the Orcish Jackets would prove meaningless.

And she'd learn that Ardi had known from the very start.

"Yoo-hoo!" Tess cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting joyfully. "Do you hear it? Isn't it amazing?"

"I can hear it," Ardan replied in a playful tone. "It sounds incredible."

Yes, Ardan should tell her. He had to do it so this wouldn't turn into another fiasco like the one with the Menagerie and the Temple. He had promised himself that he would no longer try to handle everything on his own.

Yes. He would tell her. Thi*s v^ers%i&o!n was so^u+r#c$e+d- fr%o*m M|V|.L+^E+M$P+Y@R.

Absolutely.

"Let me sing for you," Tess said abruptly, and for a moment, her eyes — brighter than any New Year's lights or all of Baliero — met Ardi's. "I really wanted you to hear this song from the stage, but the schedule got all mixed up, and…." She trailed off, shaking her fiery hair. "Shall I sing?"

"Of course."

"Then," Tess declared, standing straight and looking directly into Ardi's eyes, "tonight, and only tonight, for you, Mr. Ardi-the-wizard, a performance from the future diva of the Baliero Concert Hall — Tess Orman." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, that's your cue for a standing ovation, Ardi."

"Oh, right. Sorry," Ardan cleared his throat, then bellowed in an exaggerated, low tone, "Hooray!"

He clapped as loudly as he could.

"Thank you, thank you," Tess said, bowing theatrically. "And now I need silence, please."

She began to sing, and Ardi found himself traveling through his own memories once again.

"I'm here with you.

Streetlights flicker on,

And I'm singing this song.

You asked me to dance,

I looked at your face,

And your eyes were so blue."

***

They walked along the Palace Embankment, eating ice cream and chatting cheerfully. Cars glided past, shining their headlights and chugging on diesel. But all the unpleasant smells were carried off by the Niewa. It was awakening from the dreary winter and shaking off its icy mantle of cold embraces. Spring was only just beginning, but…

That didn't stop Tess and Ardi from eating ice cream. They paid no heed to the puzzled looks of the bundled-up townsfolk, who simply couldn't understand why two young people would eat ice cream in the still-rather-biting cold of the Metropolis. But the young pair only laughed in response and, as always, kept talking. Whenever they strolled together like this, they never seemed to feel the chill, no matter how harsh the weather got.

"Can you imagine?" Tess flung her hands up so abruptly that she nearly nudged a dignified gentleman with her cone. Beneath his warm hat, several strands of gray hair gleamed. He grumbled something inarticulate about how eating on the go was the height of rudeness, but fell silent the moment he noticed Ardi's cloak and staff. That didn't stop Tess from apologizing to the gentleman, however. "Oh… sorry! He's gone already… Anyway, this client shows up and says I stitched the seam the wrong way."

"And then what?" Ardi asked.

"She spent a whole hour insisting to Madam Okladov that the stitching should be different."

"And how did Okladov handle it?"

"As she always does — she picked up her scissors, ripped out the seam, and offered to let the client do it herself. And if the seam looked better, Madam Okladov would refund the entire cost."

"Whoa!"

"Of course, the client just puffed herself up like a turkey and threatened to sue."

"And… did she?"

"Nothing yet. It's been a month, and she's still 'threatening to sue,'" Tess threw her hands up again, but Ardi was ready this time and carefully steadied her so she wouldn't smear anyone with her cone. "It turns out Madam Okladov already knew about this… peculiar lady. Apparently, she goes around to different ateliers, complaining about everything she can think of in order to wring out discounts or get a full refund."

"What nerve…" Ardan murmured.

"Exactly! That's pretty much what I said."

They looked at each other and smiled, and then…

Something cold poked Ardi's nose.

"Your nose is all dirty now," Tess laughed, sounding almost like a mischievous child. "And-"

"And so is yours," Ardan said as his own cone tapped against her nose.

They exchanged glances and burst into laughter again, ignoring the protests and scolding of passersby.

***

"Let's hide from the city lights,

The moon has never been so bright.

Together we'll dance around,

Get lost and never be found.

You worry a lot,

I noticed today,

And the sky is so gray.

So I'll drive the car,

And we'll go far,

To where it's not so cold."

***

Ardan was gazing out the window. Outside, the rain was coming down hard, accompanied by wet snow. Spring was claiming its rightful place, and soon the city would be besieged by furious showers that would give way to that nasty, insidious drizzle. The one that was sharp against your face and would drip down your collar. And it was hard to decide which was worse.

"Sorry, Tess. It looks like we won't be able to go dancing tonight."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because you've been looking forward to it all week."

"Well, I can just wait another week," Tess said with a shrug. "It wasn't you who made it rain. Why apologize?"

In truth, Ardi himself had no idea why he'd apologized. He just really wanted to take Tess dancing — she'd been looking forward to dancing under the open sky at Baliero. And now… well…

"But we can dance right here," she said, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him toward the door of their — no, her, yes, her little apartment. They weren't even… Ardi couldn't bring himself to say it. They simply weren't rushing things. "We do live above a jazz bar, remember? And besides, we're both already dressed for the occasion!"

Ardan tried to protest, but Tess was having none of it. Her heels clicking against the floor, she guided him toward the stairwell, and they practically glided down the steps.

Downstairs, a jazz ensemble — or, more precisely, a jazz group — was already playing. A saxophone purred, piano keys danced beneath quick fingers, and the bass and drums kept time.

The place was packed with patrons talking loudly over drinks and cigarettes. Arkar, as always, was behind the bar, polishing glasses and occasionally stepping in to help the bartenders when things got too hectic.

Tess, who didn't seem to have a care in the world, dashed over to the musicians and whispered something to them.

They conferred amongst themselves, and soon the lively jazz tune shifted into something slow and gentle.

"Hey…"

"Why'd they change the music?"

"Piano man, you-"

"Ahem." A loud, rough cough rang out — Arkar's, by the sound of it — backed by the disapproving scowls of the bouncers. "The musicians need a break. The show will resume in…" The half-orc cast a quick glance at Tess. She motioned with her hands. "The show will resume in twenty minutes."

Tess placed Ardi's left hand on her waist and extended her own left hand so she could entwine her fingers with his.

They began to dance, ignoring everything and everyone around them. It was awkward and a bit clumsy. Some of the customers laughed, only to fall silent beneath the orcs' fierce gazes. And after a minute, no one was paying attention to the pair dancing by the stage.

A couple of minutes later, other couples joined Tess and Ardan.

"See, Ardi-the-wizard," Tess whispered, leaning her cheek against his chest. "All it takes is for someone to start things."

They twirled slowly. Sometimes, they missed a beat; every now and then, Ardi almost stepped on Tess' toes, but his clumsiness didn't bother her in the slightest.

Ardan could feel how calm and steady her heartbeat was. Her soft and gentle breathing filled his ears. It was as though he was holding a small, contented flame in his armsbreathing in a fragile glow that drifted in the hush of near-sleeping embers. A warm, soothing, and oh-so-important flame.

"Want me to teach you how to play the piano?" Tess asked suddenly. "You have long fingers and broad palms."

"My teacher in school said the same thing, but as you can see, she didn't succeed."

"I'll succeed. The only question is whether you want to learn."

Ardan didn't really know if he did, but Tess clearly wanted to try teaching him, so he answered:

"I'd like that."

She nodded, and they kept dancing. Anyone watching them might have thought that they were only embracing and swaying gently, almost dozing.

The jazz concert did not resume in twenty minutes — or even in forty.

***

"Let's hide from the city lights,

The moon has never been so bright.

Together we'll dance around,

Get lost and never be found.

Sometimes I don't know

What's real and what's not.

We feel like a story,

that someone has told."

***

Ardan ran his palm across the sand and scooped some into his hand, lifting it to his nose. It smelled of both silt and fish — so pungent and salty he didn't dare taste it. He straightened up and, sinking ankle-deep into the cold sand, gazed ahead.

Out there, mighty, towering waves rolled toward the shore, breaking into plumes of white foam. The spray soared into the air, shimmering against the blue, and sparkling more brilliantly than any gemstone. It was as if the water itself had shaped and cut those jewels, setting them in a lapis frame, but only for a fleeting instant — a split second before the spray was swallowed by the brown sand.

A wind was blowing.

It carried freshness and the scent of freedom with it, but of a different sort than in the Alkade. Here, the air smelled of salt, cold, and the boundless unknown — a vastness stretching from Ardi's own feet all the way to where the weary sky fell like a hawk into the embrace of the Swallow Ocean, shattering against its dark-blue surface.

Or perhaps that was just how it seemed to him. Perhaps the ocean wasn't reaching forward at all — perhaps something was straining to break free from Ardi's own chest. Something that was trying to escape the confines of his flesh and blood, to soar, giving itself to a flight, however brief, however brutal and uncertain, through storms and tempests, toward that far, distant horizon. It would do this in order to witness constellations skipping across islands, and see the swallows nesting in winter somewhere along the Kargaam cliffs.

And maybe it would go even beyond that. To the place where only forgetful winds wandered, winds that recalled none of the places they've visited.

Just like when he was a child, Ardi still had no idea what this feeling was, how to describe it, how to rein it in. How to lock away the thing that was surging inside him. It was something new, unknown, and unrelated to magic or-

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tess stood beside him, holding onto her hat and keeping a short fur mantle in place on her shoulders. "It's even prettier in the summer, though the water's still too cold for swimming. For that, you'd have to head south, to Moon Cape. It's warmer there."

Ardan didn't know how to respond, so he gave a jerky nod.

"Let's go, Ardi-the-wizard," Tess said with a laugh, and they strolled along the shore, both barefoot. Above them, as usual, passersby cast them disapproving glances — and occasionally even tried to call the guards to intervene. Those same guards, upon seeing Ardan's staff, would turn around and admonish people to not bother them over trifles.

They just kept on walking, chatting, laughing, sometimes throwing themselves into heated discussion, sometimes quietly standing in each other's embrace. Cold winds blew in across the ocean, which was only barely awake, its waves rumbling without end.

"You know, this is the place where I first came up with 'The Cat,'" Tess said suddenly, her small hand enveloped in Ardan's.

"Really? How so?"

She shrugged.

"I was walking along this same promenade when I spotted an elderly couple. He must have been about eighty, and she around seventy-five. Both of them were stooped, both carrying canes, and yet they were supporting each other as they shuffled to a bench on the boardwalk not far from here." Tess pointed ahead to the distant boardwalk that was popular during the warmer months.

"He spread a newspaper across the bench for her and helped her sit down. And she fussed over him, fretting about his bad lungs and the cold wind. They sat there, huddled together, staring at the ocean. I'd come here often, and they did too — always at the same time. Just imagine how long they'd been together. Everything they must have experienced, all that they'd endured, and then…" Tess paused, extending her hand to let the spray kiss her skin. "Then one day, I saw her come alone. And after that, neither of them ever returned. And somehow, that's when 'The Cat' came to me. Everyone thinks it's a fun little song, but it's not. It's about a cat running to the ocean, hoping to meet someone it's been missing."

Ardan said nothing, though he could guess what Tess was trying to say. He could guess, and he stayed silent, because he had no answer for her.

"When I'm fifty, Ardi, you'll still look thirty. And when I'm seventy, you'll… still look thirty. Maybe thirty-two," she whispered, flicking water droplets into the air. "Sometimes, that thought scares me so badly, it makes me feel… I don't know."

Ardan remained silent. No matter what he said, it would feel pointless.

After all, as Tess had recently pointed out, they weren't husband and wife. He had no right to say what he wanted to say.

"And then I think: you know what, sixty years is like adding up a few of my lifetimes, so maybe I'll get sick of you by then."

"Oh, really?"

"Absolutely. I'll find myself a lover with wrinkles, someone as rickety as I'll be by then, with false teeth and a voice like a file scraping against iron. We can grumble together about how the world's gone downhill." Tess spoke those last few words in an intentionally squeaky, dry voice.

They fell silent again, gazing at the ocean.

"You know," Tess said, changing the subject, "when it finally warms up, the Old Park funicular will open. Wanna go? It's so beautiful there. I promise."

"All right," Ardan agreed.

Tess managed a reserved smile and started walking again, but Ardi stopped her.

He searched her eyes and finally let himself say the things he had no right to say.

"Tess, no matter how you look, I'll still… I'll still…" She watched him expectantly, but Ardi's tongue suddenly refused to obey him. His heart hammered ten times faster than before. Fear sent a cold sweat down his spine, and he saw in his mind's eye the letter he had never managed to write back in the steppes.

What if… What if it ended up just like last time? What if he-

She drew him closer and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss.

***

"If you had the chance

To see how it ends

And make any change,

Would you turn the page?

Let's hide from the city lights,

The moon has never been so bright.

Together we'll dance around,

Get lost and never be found."

Tess finished singing, and their gazes locked. She stood on stage, and he stood below, in the orchestra pit. They looked at each other, at their own reflections in the other's eyes.

"Tess, I lov-"

"Ardi, I lov-"

They spoke at the same time, then both stopped. Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then, wordlessly, Ardi held out his arms, and Tess let him help her down from the stage.

They embraced.

"Let's go home, Ardi-the-wizard," Tess whispered, resting her cheek against his chest as she often did. "I'll make us some hot cocoa, we'll climb up onto the roof, and we can just talk."

"Let's go," Ardan said.

"But you'll have to drop by Arkar's kitchen again because we're all out of cocoa."

Ardan burst into laughter, and together, they left the building.

He would tell her about the Dandy. Just… not tonight.

***

"All right, you head upstairs," Ardi suggested after the cabby dropped them off at building number 23 on Markov Canal, pocketing eighteen kso for his efforts. "I'll grab the cocoa from the kitchen and be right there."

"Sounds good," she said, pecking him on the cheek.

They stepped through the doors of the bar together, but parted ways near the staircase leading upwards. Tess headed to her apartment while Ardi, circling the counter, slipped into the kitchen. It wasn't like they used it often, just… sometimes. After all, "Bruce's" had been sitting idle for months, and the food would have spoiled anyway. The orcs who dropped in from time to time to fiddle with the register or the "back room" barely paid the kitchen any mind.

And so Ardi had no obvious reason to expect anyone to come up behind him as he reached for the cupboard.

"It seems to me like you and I have some unfinished business, sir Imperial Mage."

That was a familiar voice.

Ardan turned. Standing right there was the man from Selkado who'd called himself a Squire. He still wielded two swords, except one of his hands was now sheathed in a black leather glove.

"Damn it," Ardi swore, grabbing his staff just as a swirl of orange wind surged out from the Selkado warrior's blade.