Now that he had the uniforms he needed to find where Tino was. That was rather stupid of him, to not ask Tino where he would be. He frowned, trying to remember what Tino had said.

He concluded that Tino told him quite a bit, all of which was about food and the fruits he was clearly missing from home. When he wasn't working with Sanice he would be free to wander Prebovna, so he would be with his own people, if he was that homesick for their food and fruits. Unless he couldn't pay in which case he would have to be in the taverns, that was the most likely place, though now Nikolas had no idea which tavern. Then he recalled Tino saying something about deals at the harbor shops.

"Do you need any errands near the harbor?" Nikolas announced loudly. Then he waited, but no one answered.

He'd since left the wagon with Eldis and Philipa, even though it was cold outside, the light made it easier to thread and work the needle. They were seated next to the fire for compensation though, and Erwing was roasting something over the coals. It used to have feathers, there was a pile in a basket next to Erwing. The pile of feathers were too big to be simply from one bird though. Faila had gone off with Anni and Mae, and as hard as Nikolas looked, he couldn't see Jaufre or his hat anywhere. It was just Nikolas, the two women and the elderly Erwing by the fire. Troupers must live a very busy life, Nikolas concluded. There must be so many plays one must prepare for. He stared at the roasting meat and decided to try again, this time with a question someone would be sure to answer.

"Are those pigeons?" said Nikolas.

Erwing looked up, "You've never had a pigeon?"

Pigeons were for delivering merchant letters, "No?"

"Hm, the merchants have plenty of pigeons here so they sell off the excess," said Erwing. "They aren't using pigeons nowadays, so there's plenty of them to go around."

"Not using pigeons," Nikolas repeated.

"Why have a very dumb bird when you can have a smarter one that doesn't just let anyone take letters from them?" Eldis remarked.

"They're just trading one problem for another if you ask me," said Philipa, biting off a thread with her teeth. "Koteks… more trouble than they're worth if you ask me." She glanced over at Nikolas, "Best stay away from them. They're not normal, koteks. Some sort of wizardry made them."

"I thought I've seen them before," Eldis remarked, "Little cat things with wings? Aren't they native here?"

"Yes, but not in the colors they make them here," said Philipa, reaching for a new spool of thread. "And there's something off about their eyes."

"Hm?"

"Something human," said Philipa, "It's not right."

It was Surio's pet, Nikolas thought, and leaned in, his interest peaked. But not too much, so he pulled himself back, slightly.

"What do you mean something human?"

"You see horses, and you see the odd animals we have around here?" said Philipa. "You can look into their eyes as long as you want, but there's no way that you're going to get proper understanding. But the koteks here, they understand you. It's not right." Then in a lower voice. "I will pay for our drinks when Faila decides to pack up."

"All of them?" said Erwing and he leaned in so much that his beard caught smoke and he had to jump back, frantically swiping at it. When he had sufficiently recovered he scowled at all the mirth thrown his way. "If it's a bet, it should be made in good faith!"

"And it is!" Philipa said, and she pricked her index finger with a needle and held it out to Erwing. "Here's the faith!"

He sniffed, and took out a carving knife, like the one Faila used to carve her wooden toys and made a similar, shallow cut. "Deal."

"You two are the worst," Eldis sniffed. "Absolutely batty."

"Oh, don't you go telling us off!" said Philipa laughing and playfully nudging Eldis's shoulder. "You would celebrate leaving this golden city I know you would!"

Nikolas looked from one face to another and valiantly tried to guess at what they meant. His conclusion though wasn't good. It seemed like no one was enamored with Prebovna. Was he the only one that was impressed with the vastness of the city? And all the inhabitants and their strange animals and merchandise and odds and ends.

But he was getting ahead of himself, he had originally wanted to find Tino. Perhaps he ought to try again, "Do you know what route I can take to go to the harbor?" he asked, deciding to interrupt their conversation.

"Follow the smell," Erwing grunted. "You'll smell it before you see it."

"The boy's new Erwing, stop playing your games with him," Eldis reprimanded. "Did you see those dragons on the gates?"

He nodded, because Tino had made it clear in no uncertain terms not to look into the eyes of one of them.

"You see Prebovna has three levels, and there's four gates on the first level. The one facing the west is where the harbor is." At his puzzled look she paused, "I suppose I can ask Posilo to show you where is it."

"Posilo is busy with a performance," Erwing muttered, getting up on his feet. "I'll take him, you two don't need to be worrying, I'll make sure he comes back in one piece."

The way that Erwing said it, Nikolas was extremely doubtful. His doubts weren't assuaged when Erwing was nearly ran over by a careless Llandrian driver and an overly enthusiastic horse.

"Your father was a scrote!" Erwing shouted, picking himself up and shaking a hand angrily in the youth's direction.

It was probably wise not to ask what a scrote is, Nikolas decided. "Is it always this dangerous?"

"No, they've just had a good season and were spending the money before the Rytsars get to it," said Erwing, and he scowled. "I told Faila to leave but she keeps on hoping she'll get a final commission."

"I heard about the Rytsars," said Nikolas, deciding he ought to see what Erwing thought of the matter as well.

"Don't be one of them, that's all I'm saying," said Erwing. "No man worth his salt becomes a Rytsar."

"My friend's a Rytsar!"

"Your friend was a rytsar," Erwing said, the lines of his face very prominent when he frowned. "There is a difference. But not by much mind."

"You don't like them."

"A person should never hold a weapon on the orders of," here Erwing paused, and smacked his lips before deciding on, "someone who's never held one themselves. Fair and square, you see? You tell people to hold this or hold that, you should also do it yourself. It's like how Faila performed in a play before she ever came to lead a troupe."

Nikolas suspected that Erwing would frown deeply upon people who paid to own troupes. Or sponsored them, like Brytha. It wouldn't hurt to ask, "What if you are sponsored?"

"Takes away your creativity," Erwing responded, matter-of-factly. "Can't be going around putting on a play that would insult your patron or what she holds dear now can you? And with some of these sorts, the things you can say switch as fast as those fancy hats they wear around."

This made Nikolas grin, for Erwing truly was a kindred spirit, "So you don't like Jaufre's hats either?"

"It is not my place to stop someone from making a fool of themselves."

That was a rather fun sentence, and Nikolas felt like it was something Aldeim would say. Speaking of Aldeim. He hesitated, then asked, "Did you know my father? I know that he knew Faila, but I don't know if he knew you—"

"Do you think that all old people magically connect with each other?" Erwing scoffed, and then, let out a chuckled and waved away Nikolas's flustered response before he could say them. "I do. Somewhat. Faila was the one talking to him, not me."

"Was it when he was younger?"

Maybe Aldeim had wanted to join a troupe as well, Nikolas thought and wondered if his father still entertained the idea. It could be that he did, he had all those maps in his study after all, they must mean that Aldeim did have more than a passing interest. Most of the maps weren't even of Icfeld and its surrounding lands. He didn't have one of Skapina, though, Nikolas had looked.

"How young are we talking?"

"I don't know, did she first meet him when he was my age?"

"Younger."

"Oh," Nikolas blinked, and struggled to think of Aldeim as young. "How did you—"

"He was very talkative, your father. Faila was as well so I suppose they matched each other's interests."

He searched his mind for a time when Aldeim had conversed for a long while with Diase and came up empty. Nikolas decided the falling feeling in his stomach was due to whatever he ate at lunch.

"They met again?"

"Before your father married," Erwing raised a hand, "and before you asked, I will advise not to entertain ideas of what if he did this or what if he did that. Your father made the choices he did and it is on him to think about his life not you."

Erwing's words did the opposite of reassuring Nikolas. No, Nikolas was convinced now that tonight he would dwell on it. If Aldeim had ran off with Faila then he wouldn't have married Diase and then wouldn't have had such a miserable marriage and—

"I told you not to dwell on it!"

Nikolas scoffed, "Then why did you say it? I wouldn't think of it until you told me to!"

"There was a play I was in a long time ago," said Erwing, "about our the previous Tsarina. Or was it the one before her? Anyway, they don't hold those plays anymore so I don't recall the name. But what is it is that she won his war because her enemy's horse lost a shoe and tripped and crushed the woman to death."

Erwing was a very strange man with wilder ideas, Nikolas thought, perturbed. Was this how it was like, getting old, that all your thoughts became jumbled together?

"I don't understand what you mean," he said, with complete honesty, for truly he could not begin to comprehend what it was that Erwing was trying to say.

They were walking past the Llandrian wagons, and past the merchants bustling and hawking their wares. It was nicer here, because the wares were not food items and they wouldn't rot. He also didn't have to watch out where he was stepping. The last two hours he had spent listening to Eldis and Philipa complain about hems being ruined by the filth of the streets.

"The horseshoe theory of life," said Erwing, "little things that shift here and there and create a tide of changes. Sometimes for the good but sometimes for the better. But it's a foolish thought I don't buy such a notion."

There was something to the man's cadence and words that reminded him of Aldeim. Of the nights his father had spent with him, and of that one night when everything went horribly wrong. He could smell the honey and the cinnamon, feel the warmth of the mug on his cold fingers. Or was it the warmth of his father's hands on his?

He shook himself out of his thoughts and blurted, feeling like the child he was so many years ago, "Why?"

"They all point that the horse threw the other woman and then she died and because she died the war was lost and so on," said Erwing. "But that's very simplistic. Wars aren't won by one man. It's the same as how your life isn't made by one choice, but a series of them."

Then why didn't Erwing just tell him what he thought instead of leading him to such a convoluted dance. He decided if Erwing would be cheeky then he would be as well, "Such as choosing to be a rytsar?"

Erwing scowled, "I'm going to be keeping an eye on you. You're too smart for Prebovna. Ever considered academy work?"

"Can't, I can't read," Nikolas confessed and blinked, surprised that it was Erwing he told it to.

"A picture is worth a thousand inked words," Erwing said, and Nikolas flinched when the old man threw an arm around Nikolas. "Don't worry, you're in good company.

Nikolas grinned, and decided to return the gesture. With their height difference it was a rather arduous task.

"You can stop if your arm is getting tired," Erwing muttered.

Nikolas refused to do so.