He had heard of Prebovna being massive. His father had told him about how he'd travelled there for his wedding to his mother. But that particular memory was foggy, because Aldeim never talked about his life with Diase if he could help it. Diase never spoke of her work in Prebovna, and remained tight-lipped even when Felie had begged for her to tell stories about the capital. His eldest sister Brytha had shown him the long lists of merchants and guilds that she wanted to visit should she ever come to Prebovna. The merchants there had such huge caravans, she had gushed, they were so massive that they needed to hire an entire room of scribes to manage their business. Or businesses, she had amended, looking very starry eyed. Nikolas didn't know what Guigo and Diasa thought of Prebovna because the twins reacted with indifference at traveling. Viola and Sanna though, he knew what they thought of it. His two sisters had spoken of dresses and instruments made out of gold, of food piled on platters as high as one can look up.

But none of their words could prepare him for the city that rose out of the ground, spirals upon spirals of color, red and gold, blue and whit, and green and… orange. It would look gaudy, but for some reason the combinations worked.

"You should close your mouth before the flies start flying in," said Tino cheerfully from where he was marching along with the rest of the Rytsar.

There are no flies in the winter, Nikolas thought dismissively. "What are those towers for?" He pointed to the tall sloping domes, from afar it looked like jewels but he knew it must be some sort of glass.

"Don't know," said Tino, shrugging his pike to his other shoulder. "I'm not the type to be tithing enough to enter."

He was seated next to Brytha, and Nikolas peered over the woman's shoulder to look out at the sprawling city that would soon greet them. There were wagons in front of them as well, though he knew that it was winter and this was barely all the merchants that would soon rush to Prebovna.

"Did you ever enter the church Sanice?"

"Me?" Sanice looked baffled. "Do I look like the type to carry around praying robes? I don't have the time for that."

"Do you want to visit it then, Nikolas?" Tino said, elbowing Nikolas, a sly smile on his face. "The priestesses don't marry so you shouldn't get your hopes up."

"I wasn't looking for a priestess!" Nikolas shook his head, pushing Tino away. It was a playful kind of push, the kind he hadn't done in years. "It looked nice, I just wanted to see if I could come closer."

He thought maybe he could draw it, he was certain that the spirals were simply elongated circles and if he had the time, maybe from a rooftop, he could draw it and send it to Brytha. He could draw other things too, maybe, the beautiful dresses that Viola and Sanna spoke breathlessly of. But he wasn't sure what to send to Aldeim. A letter that he was well, that should do it. Or perhaps he would find a girl and they would get married and then Aldeim would be happy that he had found someone. Out of all the puzzling things Aldeim said, Nikolas was certain that his father wanted him to be happy.

"Ah, you don't need to come closer lad," said Sanice cheerfully. "You'll smell it before you see it, there's nothing more the priestesses love than food offerings." He stared at her, and she took the reins into her right hand to pat his shoulder with her left, "You'll soon know everything." Then she laughed, "Smell everything too!"

He wasn't sure what she meant until they reached the massive gates, and Sanice was reaching for her purse to pay the fee to enter Prebovna. The first smell to hit him was sour, sour and then sickeningly sweet. Then when the gates swung open he was greeted with a chaotic tide of people, and the smells that accompanied them.

'Welcome to Prebovna," said Tino brightly, swinging his legs back and forth and looking as if he wanted to laugh at the disappointment on Nikolas's face. "What did you expect?'

"I did know there were a lot of people!" Nikolas said defensively.

In his childhood town, and in Bifeld they had sewers. The maintenance of the whole system was done four or three times a year by a team of surly volunteers. Well, he knew it wasn't completely voluntary, sometimes it was done by people who had already done it and their family. Sometimes it was done by people who needed to be paid, as no one liked the filthy work. Certainly not Brytha and her fellow merchants, all of whom pooled money into a pot to pay out to the workers. There didn't seem to be this system in Prebovna. The wagon sloshed over water that was dark brown and as they passed the food merchants Nikolas could see the man simply tossing rotten food out into the street. It was immediately swarmed by pigeons, and then cats, and then dogs.

If the animals of Prebovna looked desperate, then so did the people. Sanice waved away beggars that approached her wagon, and then children of beggars.

"Can't be seen handing out anything," she said grimly to Nikolas before standing up and shouting for her Rystars to follow the wagon with their pikes at the ready. "Else you'll be fighting them off before long."

There were many people that approached them, Nikolas thought. They looked like… no, he shook his head. They did not look like the ghastly remains of the people he'd seen while on the way to Prebovna. But they might as well be, what with their gaunt faces and outstretched hands. The locket around his throat felt warm, and he tucked it firmly back into the layers of tunics he wore. They were desperate and that meant there would be witch hunters. The last thing he needed was to know what a witch hunter did.

"Don't worry," said Tino, sounding matter of fact. His pike was in the back of the wagon, but within easy reach. He had chosen instead to twirl around two knives, one in each hand. "We'll be leaving Skipperginnel soon enough."

"Skipperginnel?" Here Tino had taken on a rougher tone, and it almost sounded like something Aldeim would say.

"Skipper, you know, like the little bugs that bite you," Tino explained, "and ginnel, because well, if you stay long enough in these ginnels you're sure to have skippers crawling all over you. That's if you're lucky."

Nikolas decided he didn't need to know more. His excitement had faded, he stared cautiously around, until his eyes settled on a thread and needle sign. A seamstress he thought, and as the wagon rolled past he could hear the sound of boisterous laughter.

"Don't be going in there either," Sanice spoke up, glancing at where Nikolas had been looking. "You won't be finding anything worth your while there."

"I can mend my own clothes," Nikolas agreed, and Tino nearly fell off the wagon and dropped his knives laughing. "What?"

Even Sanice was chuckling.

"He doesn't know what seamstresses are here!" Tino said, between huffs of laughter.

"Are they not seamstresses?"

"Oh, they do sew alright," Tino wheezed. "They sew all kinds of things!"

Whatever mirth or meaning they found in their words was completely lost on Nikolas. "What do you mean?"

"Right, I'll spare Nikolas, you are being cruel now," Sanice was still smiling when she looked at Nikolas. "Has your father ever spoken of marriage, Nikolas? Well, the seamstresses here are not the type you'd be wanting to marry." At his open mouthed confusion, she rolled her eyes and leaned in, pitching her voice very low. "What they're selling isn't their sewing skills."

"More like undressing!" Tino cackled, letting go of the knives with a clank to hold in his laughter.

"If you're still laughing at that no wonder no woman would look twice at you," Sanice said irritably.

"Who says I want women to look at me?" Tino said with a raised eyebrow. He clapped Nikolas on the back, "But heed our words Nikolas, you won't find anyone going to the seamstresses any time soon."

"But what if you really needed something fixed? Do you not go to a..." he frowned, "tailor?"

This made Sanice sigh deeply and shake her head. Tino's grin was so wide that Nikolas could see two rows of teeth. "They are the same as seamstresses here."

"If you want something fixed you'll just go to the troupers," said Sanice. "They have costumes and costumes need fixing."

He nodded, even though he still did not know what seamstresses and tailors do that made them unmarriageable. Was that not a trade? Did the Tsarina decree something against sewing and the associated profession?

The wagon was going to the nicer part of the city now, he could tell because the smell was less, and the cobblestones were actually not slippery with muck and other unmentionables. The people were well-dressed and the houses well-kept. It reminded Nikolas of his first home, the brickwork and the colorful embroidered curtains and flowerpots that could be seen from the window. Occasionally there was a teapot, or a child's toy, and he felt a sad longing in his stomach. It was too much like home, and the sudden burst of childish laughter had him spinning his body around, half-expecting to see Felie or Ada. But it was just a pair of siblings, a boy and a girl. Guigo and Diase, Nikolas thought, and the feeling did not go away.

"Ah, why the long face?" said Tino, moving closer and giving him a sympathetic look. "I was just jesting you know, it's not everyday I see someone so green. All the Rytsars know these things they've all lived around here."

"It's not that," Nikolas said, and swallowed down the tumultuous feelings boiling in his gut upon seeing the children. "It just reminds me of home. My first home, not my second." He glanced at the children again, a final look to confirm that it wasn't his younger siblings he was seeing.

"Ah," Tino looked solemn. "Yes, sometimes it happens and you can't really control what you remember. Do you want to remember? Or I could talk about the troupers, they are an interesting group you know. They have their own district in Prebovna because they're always moving around and it's easier for the tax collectors to get a share from them that way."

"They share the district with us," Sanice clarified.

"Yes, but they do keep their own wagons around each other, and merchants have their own houses here if they've got enough coin."

"Very much coin," Sanice groused.

"Do you know Faila and her troupe?" Nikolas asked, hoping that at least he wouldn't have to go around searching for a written sign.

"No, but the troupers all know each other," Sanice said, and at Nikolas's crestfallen look continued, "Look, Nikolas, I did promise your sister that I'll leave you with the troupers. How she even knows them I don't know, but maybe she's their patron. Wouldn't be the first time Brytha is a patron of some odd art here and there."

"Brytha is a patron?" Nikolas said, wide-eyed.

"Yes, didn't you know? Your sisters were good but Brytha's always liked songs and stories."

"I've never seen her watch a trouper show!"

"You can read a trouper show, if you're a patron of a troupe, you can commission said troupe to perform a play to your own liking. And they'll send you a script of it. I assume this is what your sister does, and this must be the troupe your sister took a fancy to."

"I see," said Nikolas crossing his arms. It was very much unlike Brytha to spend frivolous money, as she would put it. So this must mean something more, and he hated that she didn't tell him about it. He felt left out, like how Viola and Sanna didn't tell him what songs they were practicing or how Guigo and Diasa was always together. Why didn't Brytha tell him what she was doing?