The three made camp in another grassland that night, and Mai had still not told the others about her dreams. She believed, to a limited extent, that the quick stops for breakfast and lunch had not given her enough time to tell the stories in full. But, near the bottom of her heart, Mai knew that the reason she had delayed so long was because she felt the dreams were somehow personal, and not to be shared.

For if the dreams meant nothing, and they were just odd fragments of a shattered mind, Ishad and Broken would learn that Mai did not trust them very far. Mai cared little what Broken thought of her, just as she was sure he cared little what she thought of him. However, if the dreams meant nothing, Mai didn’t know if she could bare Ishad hearing them. She did trust Ishad.

Mai thought briefly about perhaps only telling Broken, who, after all, was probably the one who would know the most about dreams anyway, but she found she couldn’t bare telling Broken a secret to be kept from Ishad. If anything, it should be the other way around, but, Mai had the feeling that Ishad would know little of things such as dreams.

The three had a quick dinner of rations from the Holy Citadel. Then, Mai cleared her throat. Before she could say anything, however, she saw Broken take out a red vial from his clothing, and run it through his fingers. She remembered it was the vial he had caught from Eton’s hand. And he had done exactly what the dream had said he would. Mai was unnerved.

“I…I think I have something important to tell you,” she said. And then, as Broken quietly encouraged her, she explained both of them, as well as she could remember. When Mai was done, she asked, “Do they matter?” She didn’t know which answer would be a better one, at that point.

Broken, being Broken, started his answer in an odd fashion. “Do you believe in the mystical, Mai?” he asked her.

“You mean God?” Mai responded. “Of course I do.”

“No, I do not mean God,” said Broken. Ishad was off to the side, but Broken sat across from Mai. They had lit no campfire, for it was still summer, and his face was dark and shadowed. “God is the spiritual. I mean the mystical. I mean magic.”

“Well, I guess,” said Mai. It was an odd question. “At the Palace, magicians entertained all the time, and, on odd occasions, I saw spellweavers going about their business. Magic is more of a fact of life than anything else, isn’t it?”

“That, indeed, was more the answer I was looking for,” said Broken. “So we are agreed that magic is real. Thus, it is quite possible that those dreams mean something. Considering the situation, and all the factors at play, I would say it is quite likely.”

“So,” said Mai. “A Nari is using my dreams to tell me that if I go to Asan Paril, danger and betrayal awaits me?”

“The most obvious answer is often the correct one,” said Broken. “I agree with your synopsis.”

Mai swallowed. “You’re going to betray me?” she asked him. She turned to Ishad. “And you, as well?” Mai could barely imagine what kind of demonic scheme would play out like this, and yet, Broken seemed not to be denying it.

“No,” said Ishad. “I would never do anything to harm you. I--”

But Broken cut him off. “That is quite enough lover talk, for the time being.” He turned back to Mai. “You miss my point. Just because a Nari says something doesn’t mean it’s literally true. Nari never lie, but they can hide things. Just as I do.”

“Just how many ways can ‘your closest companions will betray you’ be taken?” asked Mai.

“A great many ways, besides the obvious,” said Broken. “That statement you just made could also mean that fellow travelers on the street will at one point accost you, or that a group known as the Companions will go after you. And I have many more examples, if you care.”

Mai could hardly believe how quickly Broken had thought of his answer. His mind was a force to be reckoned with, indeed.

“But the Nari didn’t say that, exactly,” she said. “He said something much more convoluted. And more than that, he predicted that you would take out the red vial. He can see the future.”

“It is not a great leap of the imagination to think, once I had the vial, I would take it out and look at it,” said Broken. “The Nari was not reading the future, there. What worries me more is what that vision implies. As we were fighting for our lives in the Holy Citadel, the Nari was watching us.”

“Do you think the Nari in my dreams was the same one you spoke to?” asked Mai.

“It is quite likely,” said Broken. “The Nari believe in balanced equations. They send out just the right amount of force to accomplish their tasks, no more, and no less.”

“You know a lot about a race most believe to be myth,” said Ishad, immediately, asking the question Mai would have had she not been in weakness.

“Did you really expect anything less of me?” asked Broken. “I know a great many things others do not.”

“Considering the circumstances,” said Mai, “could you tell us what the Nari spoke to you about?”

“That business is my own,” said Broken. “I would tell you, and I would tell you quite readily, but I fear that your knowledge of what was discussed in that conversation would only serve to further confuse and complicate things.”

“So, what do you think I should do?” asked Mai.

“My advice?” said Broken. “Ignore the dreams, and continue to Asan Paril. The Nari might have a reason they don’t want you to go there, but you might not like that reason. Of course, what you do is ultimately up to you, and I will not hinder the choice you make in any way.”

Mai looked as Ishad.

“Go to Asan Paril,” he urged. “Continue this journey. Perhaps I am not the best one to say as such, considering my history with the Nari, but I think it would be best to spite them.”

“And so I shall,” said Mai.

There was training that night, but only a little, and then there was sleep.

Morning came soon, preceded by a dreamless night. They traveled for the next day, and the day after that, until a week had passed.

Nights were spent in inns, soon enough, when they left the farmlands, and entered more densely populated areas. And always, there were two rooms purchased.

The war had yet to fall on the Vedil heartlands, when that week was up, but it felt more and more like the calm before the storm. Vedil recruiters were everywhere, and in all the taverns and inns, word had it that Vedil army after Vedil army had been sent to its doom trying to stop the advancing Makini hordes, and even the armies of the great Emperor Ehajdon would not be able to save them.

Rumor had it that the Makini armies were lead by the greatest tactician in a thousand years, a man with a fist of steel, that could squeeze, and break bone. Varsis, Mai knew was that man, and at night, she trembled. She imagined him coming to squeeze the life out of her, and do it right the second time around. And Mai was afraid now, for unlike before, she cared about her life.

Ishad was a comfort, but only so much. Mai thought it was his humanness in the face of Broken’s unchanging perfection that had attracted her to him, but he was as worried as her about what was to come.

And Broken, well, Broken was the same as he always was. He had an answer for everything, even if that answer actually said little, and he managed to make their limited coin supply seem to last forever, and even increase. But he, too, seemed at least a little worried, at what was to come.

For it seemed they would not make it to Asan Paril before the battles reached them.

By the end of the week, they were at a large city named Barad, and only midway between the Holy Citadel and Asan Paril. At that place, they had already gotten the two rooms necessary at one of the local inns, the Restless Dog, and Broken had gone to do whatever he did to find more coinage.

But neither Ishad nor Mai were in the Restless Dog, either. They walked the streets of the river city, born on the banks of the waters of the Paril River.

Barad was the largest city in all the Vedil lands, and in a way, much more refined than the Holy Citadel. While the Holy Citadel focused on religion, Barad focused on the arts, and other secular culture. It was said that the Empire, all those thousands of years ago, had been born in what was now Vedil lands.

Mai believed that statement to be true. Barad was a center of learning, and growth. The city had two universities, and scholars from even the Unknown Lands, outside the Empire’s borders, made their way to Barad, where all could learn in peace. The great Library was here, and it was said that any trivial bit of information could be found within the palace-shaped building, down to the weather the Holy Citadel had experienced a year ago to the day.

And here, on the ancient streets, Mai walked hand in hand with Ishad.

“This is all so amazing,” she said, looking at a great fountain, spitting water a dozen feet into the air, built into the center of the intersection of a pair of streets. It was night, and the water sparkled.

“I have something to show you,” said Ishad. He walked all the way up to the fountain, which was quite easy, as the streets were not crowded.

Mai followed him, even as Ishad reached the fountain, and leaned against it. “Do as I do,” said Ishad. Mai leaned against the fountain as well. Then Ishad instructed, “Look up.”

Mai did, seeing, to her amazement, that the very top of the water stream shooting from the top of the fountain pointed straight at the head of the constellation Reconsus, the Northern Sage.

She knew immediately that the phenomenon was what Ishad had been referring to. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Mai, and she was being honest. In the Occluded City, things were designed to make people gape in awe, not gape in wonder.

“I thought you’d like that,” said Ishad. “This fountain was built two thousand years ago, in exactly the right proportions so that the illusion would be effected.”

Mai pulled away from the fountain’s stone, and examined it in new light. The fountain looked old, to be sure, but not as old as two millennia. The stone dolphin in the center of the fountain, and its blowhole, from which the water shot up into the air, did not seem quite so ancient.

“The fountain is kept in perfect condition,” she marveled.

“Indeed it is,” said Ishad. “The Rememberers, a group of scholars, pay enough money from their own pockets to make sure all of Barad’s many historical artifacts and landmarks are kept as pristine as they can possibly be.”

“How do you know this?” asked Mai. “You’re sounding like Broken.”

“My family traveled far and wide to trade things, and set up deals,” said Ishad. “Barad was one of the major cities we traveled to. In many ways, it almost feels like a home, even though I have not been here in two years.”

“A second home?” Mai repeated. “Does that mean you have connections here?”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Ishad.

Mai, in response, spread a hand out to encompass the city. “Anything else one can see here, that is more…restricted?”

“Since my family ostracized me,” said Ishad, “I am sure most of my connections have dried up. But I do have some friends here, that have little to do with my family. Come.”

And so they walked through the streets, heading a place only Ishad knew. They passed by the great Library of Barad, which, complete with an impressive courtyard, really looked like a palace. And to think all of it is filled with records, exhibits, and artifacts!

But that building, in the end, turned out not to be where they were headed. They headed into a section of the city where street performers were everywhere, and festivities were in all directions. A large crowd of children had gathered around a puppeteer, and various live and exotic animals were on display. In the corners, more hidden, were groups of men at tables, making bets and rolling die.

Ishad and Mai turned a corner, and she saw even more of the same, but even grander. The street before them was fifty feet wide, and headed in a straight line, all the way out to docks on the river Mai could see in the distance. Here, taverns had their customers seated on tables out on the streets, to enjoy the cool night breeze.

Suddenly, there was clapping, and everyone on the center of the road got out of the way, as a parade turned down the street and headed Mai and Ishad’s way. First in line was a giant snake, operated by perhaps a dozen people within the costume, and then other entertainers leapt about, dressed as eagles, lions, bears, and a host of other creatures. They operated with an enthusiasm that almost seemed forced, but was amazing nevertheless.

When the parade passed, Ishad said, “That was the Boralang. Every night, without fail, the Boralang roams the streets of the Art Quarter. This road we are on is the center of the Art Quarter. Maverax Lane.”

“Maverax?” Mai asked. Maverax was the name of the first God-King, the legendary immortal who came down from heaven to grant order. Maverax was the immortal who founded the Empire. “People think a lot of this road, don’t they?”

“They do indeed,” said Ishad. “There is even a local story that the reason this road is named such, is because Maverax himself gave the name.”

“Is that even possible?” asked Mai. “This city can’t be ten thousand years old.”

“Ah,” said Ishad. “But it is. Barad is far older than the Imperial City.” He walked over to one of the buildings on the strip, which looked to be yet another tavern, though its doors were closed, and windows were shaded. Ishad knocked on the door.

A young man, perhaps Ishad’s age, opened it. He wore clothing that made him out to be a soldier, but instead of wearing the colors of any of the Houses, he instead wore black, with a strange, twisted green insignia on the center of his shirt.

“Welcome to Maverax Precinct,” he said, automatically. “As I am sure you were not intending to come here…” He trailed off.

“Hey, Ral,” said Ishad, clapping him on the back.

“Ishad?” asked Ral, returning the gesture. “Come in!”

And so Mai and Ishad walked into a small, though nicely kept office. A second soldier was sitting at a desk filing through some things. He did not look up as Mai and Ishad entered.

“What are you doing here, Ishad?” asked Ral, with fading enthusiasm. “Last I heard you were a monk, but you’re not wearing a robe, and you have a lady at you arm.” He flashed a smile at Mai.

“I got out,” said Ishad.

“But you don’t get out,” said Ral, confused. “To be a monk is for life.”

“Not under all circumstances,” said Ishad, grinning. “It’s a great story, and I’ll tell you sometime. But first, can you let us up to the rooftops?”

“For you?” asked Ral. “Sure, but I’m going to hear your story sooner or later, you know.”

They walked to a door in the back of the room, and Ral took out a key and unlocked it. He remained behind, and closed the door, as Mai and Ishad ascended the twisting stairs that lay beyond it.

Mai had thought there was nothing else that could impress her about the city. When she got to the roof, she found herself wrong.

From the rooftop, it could be seen that almost all the buildings in Barad were exactly the same height, and had flat roofs, with railings. Causeways Mai had not noticed before connected different buildings. It was as if the city has a second level.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Do you see the soldiers up here?” Ishad asked, pointing out indistinct shapes all a distance away.

“Yes,” Mai said.

“Well,” Ishad replied, “Barad, a thousand years ago, was mostly burnt to the ground, and when the city was rebuilt, it was decreed that most roofs had to be built at a certain height, to create a second level of the city where soldiers could get around to spot trouble. That’s why the precinct was so small. There are dozens of different offices spread throughout the city. Most of the Barad Guards patrol from here, looking down on the city, and if they see trouble, they go through the nearest precinct, and deal with it. The idea was ingenious.”

“Why is there so much empty space?” asked Mai.

“Because no one is allowed up here but the guards, and those they deem safe enough to come up here,” said Ishad. “And that number is few. You have no idea how well I got to know Ral, before he let me up.”

Mai walked over to a railing, and looked down on Maverax Lane. From above, it looked even more incredible.

“Is this the kind of thing you wanted to see?” asked Ishad.

“Yes,” said Mai.

And so it was.

While Broken did whatever he was doing, while people fought and died on battlefields too close for comfort, Mai gazed out onto the streets with Ishad. They carefully avoided the soldiers, who Ishad said would probably ask questions, and together enjoyed the view.

She was with him, and she was at peace.

A cynical part of Mai’s mind wondered when Barad would fall. At this point, it seemed inevitable that the Makini would reach it, or at least so Broken told her. But if the people of the city still found the time to celebrate and be happy, so could she.