The engines never roared now, only rose slowly to a comfortable purr. Guff watched the bustle of the platform, the shrieking boys and girls flinging legs here and there, the stiff businessmice parting the crowds with firm blows of their briefcases, with something like satisfaction. It was always good to get through it in one piece.

They were out of downtown Jiharu in seconds. The engine rose a little more and then relaxed as the train slid into the downward curve of the slender track reaching out across the lake. The first time they had come this way, Guff had felt he knew what it was to be a dragon, with the whole word beneath your talons. Now, he only felt a little sick.

There was a throaty cackle from across the carriage. “Can’t handle your syrup anymore, friend?” Venn called. He was so far away Guff could hardly make him out. There were pockets of speciesism here and there, down in poky little shops and snobby theatre gatherings, but the municipal council was certainly good enough to skern. All the trains had these extra-wide carriages with long, cushioned galleries from which to watch the buildings blur past. The council had been very good to them, hadn’t it?

Guff said nothing. He wanted to say many things, but they kept toppling over each other when he tried to rearrange them in his head. “Just call it old age,” he settled on.

Venn got painfully to his feet. Then he was crossing the passage, abandoning his own comfort for his friend’s. He drew close. “There’s nothing to worry about now. Nobody, and I mean nobody, remembers any of that in these times. Nobody even cares. Remember what we used to tell them about the Twin Uprisings?”

Guff remembered. Skern were valued as history teachers in the Union for obvious reasons. Guff and Venn had both signed up at twenty or so, when a couple of generations of levin had already slipped by like paper in the wind. Their pay had only grown as the years went on. Their memories had guided the city as much as its politicians and scientists. The pair had counted many famous figures among their tiny pupils. They had also attended most of their funerals.

Memories were good, but there was also the national curriculum to uphold. And sometimes, particularly as far as the troubles were concerned, things were simplified. Sanitised.

“It was all lies. Like us.”

Venn shook his head, though not disagreeably. They were over the lake now, speeding southwards through the busy riverside wharves where an ancient stone bridge had once stood. The foundations on its left bank were still visible. They had visited it once, years ago, but quite frankly it hadn’t been worth the bus ride.

Old minds are always wandering, but this time, like many times before, both wandered in the same direction. It was something that had allowed them to remain close over the past century or so, even after Guff became disillusioned with the approved brand of truth and withdrew to his rented floor of the rotting Clanmates' Hall on the western lakeshore. The memory of the visit had kindled curiosity in Guff, and he pushed his guilt to one side for a more lonely day. He had to celebrate now. For his friend.

“So, I find myself sitting on a train, whizzing through town, and you still haven’t told me where we’re going. You could be taking me anywhere!” His voice was cheerful, and about halfway through, the words convinced his own heart too.

Venn’s nostrils flared. There was still that cheeky gleam in his eye, and Guff was struck by just how young he still looked. He wasn’t too sure about himself, but Venn really could pass for one hundred and fifty seven.

The gentleskern fumbled at a little leather pouch hooked onto a brittle spine on his side. “It’s a secret, and it shall remain so until we get there. But I do promise you it will be far more exciting than your choice last year.”

Guff snorted good-naturedly at the insult. They took it in turns to organise their hatchingday outing. The pair weren’t always backward-facing; often it was a trip to see a comedy at the Lakeside Cinema or a posh meal at one of the up-and-coming eateries downtown. Venn usually paid.

But last time, it was Guff that had led them south-east on a trip down memory lane. The riverbank was redundant; the now-sedentary water lazed its way along a rather unceremonious canal towards the lakelands. So were most of the rusty warehouses that cast their ragged shadows over the slope. Even the marsh, seemingly endless in its day and ripe with the fancied scent of females, had drained into obscurity long ago.

They had spent most of that afternoon arguing over where the burrows had been.

Venn’s aching feet had finally found their way past the clip on his pouch. He closed his claws around a small object and pulled it out. “Alright, I’ll give you a little clue. We’re still almost an hour away after all.”

Guff glanced up at the stations on the route panel, but found no name there to kindle his curiosity. “The rest of the gifts are getting sorted by the servants as we speak, I take it?” There was no bitterness in his voice. Or very little.

Venn gargled out a sound that only his old friend would interpret as good-hearted dismissal. “Yes, yes, and put into the twentieth vault on the left ready for a rainy day. I think you’re going a bit senile in your old age; you say it every hatchingday.” But then the edges of his muzzle puckered in a sudden seriousness. “This is the very best though. And why we’re here.”

Gently, he set down something onto the corner of Guff’s cushion. Guff peered closer and closer. He really did need to scrape the money together for some decent spectacles.

The offering was something long and thin. There were hints of intricate swirls and ornaments in Guff’s blurred impression of it. And, when he moved his head from side to side, it gleamed and twinkled from a thousand glassy facets.

He reached out and pressed a scale to its surface. Despite the pleasant warmth of the train, it was deeply, impossibly cold.

“So I’m not alone. Another ancient miscreant sends his regards,” Guff said.

“Close enough,” said Venn.