Despite his unease, Saryth fell asleep quickly. The bed was soft, the room cosy, and he was tired. But he woke abruptly in the middle of the night to a deeper feeling than confusion at Kite’s actions, an awareness that someone else was around. Out of habit, he kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady, feigning sleep so as not to draw attention. For a long moment there was only the sound of Kite’s breathing, deep and even, from the opposite bed, and then he heard again the sound which must have woken him. The window grated as it was opened, the sash pushed up from - from outside? His guess was confirmed by the creak of the floorboards by the window as their uninvited guest eased themselves slowly to the floor. He tracked their footsteps on the rug, almost but not quite silent, until he judged the intruder to be level with the heads of the beds.

“Hey!”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He and Kite shouted and grabbed at the same time, one skinny wrist each, and the intruder jumped and twisted in their twin grip. Kite switched her grip and pulled the thief forwards. She jerked back reflexively and Saryth lost his hold on her other wrist, but by then Kite had done something and the thief collapsed just like the toy donkey. Kite caught her shoulders in an awkward attempt to stop her hitting the floor.

“Can you get the light?” she asked.

“Oh, sorry.” He’d been staring. The lamp was completely out and the matches weren’t where they had been before. He glanced around, couldn’t see them, but Kite was waiting, so he took a breath and clicked his fingers below the lamp, willing the spark to come to the oil-soaked wick.

“Show-off,” Kite said with amusement and he grinned in relief as the light flickered and swelled, chasing away the pale moonlight. The thief was revealed to be a skinny teen with red hair tied up in scruffy bunches, dressed in a worn outfit that seemed designed for acrobatics. She had come through a second floor window, so it clearly worked.

“Who is she?” he asked. “And what are we going to do with her?”

“She’s a member of whatever passes for a Thieves’ Guild around here,” Kite said. “And she’s going to take us somewhere. Get dressed.”

By the time the thief opened her eyes, both of them were dressed and ready. She came to with a start, and as Kite turned to her she flinched back, against the nearest bed.

“I, um...”

“What’s your name?” Kite asked, kneeling beside her.

“Jig.” She seemed to gain courage from the absence of an obvious threat. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Nothing very much.” Kite stood up and paced towards the window. “I want you to take us somewhere.”

“An’ if I won’t?”

Kite turned to look back at the thief, a smile lurking in the corners of her mouth. “Then I’ll tell the whole town how we caught you.” She sounded completely sincere. Does she mean it? Saryth couldn’t tell.

Jig looked aside with a scowl, but she caved in quickly. “Where?”

“The place where the merchant Zereel makes his floating fire gems.”

“All right.”

To Saryth’s relief, they went out through the inn’s back door rather than the window Jig had used to enter their room. That was the easiest part of the trip, however, for Jig’s preferred routes involved the rooftops. She led them from roof to roof, along planks, up and down staircases and occasionally along balconies. The moonlight silvered the town, and Saryth was alternately grateful for its illumination of the tiles and beams they clambered over and terrified someone could see them. Not that there was anyone visible in the streets below. Eventually Jig stopped by a chimney and beckoned them forwards.

“Sh,” she said. “Down there.” She pointed forwards to a familiar square, its paving now empty of stalls, vendors, crowds and performers.

“That’s his shop,” Kite said.

“Yes. That’s where he makes the gems.”

“So what does he do with them?” She sounded puzzled.

“They’re kept in the basement,” Jig said. “But it’s locked, and I’m not picking it for you.”

“That won’t be necessary. Will you stand guard?”

Jig gave Kite a long, suspicious stare.

“I suppose,” she said eventually.

Getting down from this rooftop involved a scramble and a drop into a narrow alley. Jig stayed in the alley, leaning her back against the wall.

“I’ll wait here.”

“Thank you. Come on, Saryth.”

He gathered his nerve and followed her to a low door in the side of Master Zereel’s shop. She fumbled in one of her pouches.

“Are you going to use magic?” he asked.

“No.” She held up a thin bit of wire with a smile. “I’m going to pick it.” I should have known that. Watching her work, though, it seemed like magic. Just a few minutes’ fiddling with her wire and the door swung open.

“Not a very good lock,” Kite said with satisfaction, and pulled the door to behind them.

Dim light flickered from lamps along the wall, casting enough light for them to walk along the cluttered corridor without crashing into the crates and boxes piled at the sides. Ahead of them steps led up into what must be the shop. Kite stopped at the only other door and opened it to reveal a storeroom, piled high with crates and chests. She frowned.

“Not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” It looked about right for a merchant’s place, although it was odd that a storeroom should have curtains on the wall.

“Some kind of chemical apparatus.” She went to the back of the room and pushed aside the curtain to reveal another door, this one with bolts on the outside. “Ah, maybe here.”

The door opened onto a large and well-appointed chamber, with books on shelves taking up one entire wall and a large writing desk covered in papers occupying another. In the far corner was a bed, also covered in papers, and a woman stood by the bed leafing through a book. She looked up as the door opened, and Saryth felt his breath stop. She was older than him, but not by much, yet her hair was pure white, untouched by any grey.

“Can I help you?”

“Who are you?” Kite’s question was almost lost as Saryth pushed forwards.

“Are you a sorcerer?” He had never met anyone like him before.

“I’m Catalys, and yes, I am a sorcerer. What are you looking for?”

“The catalytic process,” Kite said, and laughed. “I suppose I’ve found it. I take it you are responsible for the floating fire gems?”

“Yes.” The words were so much noise in Saryth’s ears.

“Why was the door bolted?” he asked. Catalys smiled.

“Master Zereel doesn’t want his source of income to walk away.”

“But you could, you know. It’s only bolted. The door, I mean.” It made no sense. Why would she stay?

“Yes, I could. But there would be no point.” Her gown was richly embroidered around the neck but it lay flat; there was no collar like he’d had. He clenched his fist.

“Why not? Don’t you want freedom?” His throat almost closed on the words. He tried to breathe evenly.

“Freedom?” She turned away. “What is freedom save living up to what fate has destined one to be?”

“Fate?” Kite asked. Saryth stared at the floor, the books on the walls, anywhere except at Catalys, struggling to control the mix of horror, fascination, yearning and rejection.

“Fate, destiny, karma. Luck, random chance. Whatever caused me to be born a sorcerer. I am meant to work magic.”

“Genetics,” Kite muttered.

“Without that,” Catalys went on, “I really have no freedom at all. And what sort of freedom is available to a sorcerer anyway? I don’t expect you to understand.”

“No!” Saryth broke in, pushing forwards. How could she say that? Kite’s hand on his shoulder checked his movement.

“Saryth.”

“But -” he turned on her and saw his own hair in the corner of his vision. His black hair. Dyed black so that people wouldn’t know. Catalys wouldn’t know. How could she? He shuddered, a toy donkey with its strings cut.

“Are you happy here?” Kite asked. The older woman looked thoughtful.

“Master Zereel brings me books,” she said eventually. “He treats me well. Here I can use magic as I wish.”

“You don’t wish to be freed?” Saryth was surprised at how level his voice sounded after all that. Catalys looked at him, then back to her desk.

“No,” she said at last, and gestured at the room. “Here is where my freedom is.”

Kite bowed.

“Thank you for your help,” she said formally.

“You’re welcome. Good night.”

They made it out of the building without further incident. Saryth barely noticed the clutter in the dim corridor. As they left the building, he couldn’t hold the questions back any longer.

“Kite, why didn’t she... I mean, what...” All that and he still didn’t have the words!

“You heard what she said,” Kite said.

“Yes, but how can I believe that? That’s not freedom, to be kept like that!” He’d at least had access to the grounds of the Duke’s keep, and the regular escape beyond too.

“She has a point, you know.”

“What?”

“If you loose a pet bird, it is not free if its wings are clipped.” Kite paused to check the street, but it was still empty. “Freedom for her is found within what she sees as her destiny, her calling. Outside of that it has no meaning.” She ducked into the alley and Saryth followed. “Either way, it’s her choice to make.”

Jig was still waiting, a few feet back from the entrance, her face a mix of worry and irritation. When she saw them it turned briefly to relief, then settled back to resentment.

“Thank you very much,” Kite said to her. “We’ll find our own way back.”

Four streets away - on the ground this time, to his relief - Saryth found words for the question that had been hiding in his brain for longer than he’d realised.

“Did I make the wrong choice?”

“Only you can answer that,” Kite said. She was walking a few steps ahead and he couldn’t see her face. “Her answer doesn’t have to be relevant to yours.” She turned and smiled. “You’ll have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Wha - why?” The sudden change of direction was disorienting.

“If you want to see the balloons?”

“Oh, yes...”

The early morning was worth it. It would have been worth it without the balloons; he’d never seen the sea, and the view from the cliffs south and east of the city was awe-inspiring. The sun rose over the vast expanse, colouring the sky in a thousand different changing hues of pink, gold, blue, purple and others he didn’t even have names for. As the light increased, the balloons began to take off from the launching area on his left, lurching into the sky and sailing with the faltering offshore winds towards the craggy rocks in the far distance. Saryth was vaguely aware of the sounds of people working hard, shouts between team-mates, cheerful banter and the thud and thunk of heavy things being manouevred, but the view in front of him was too entrancing to look away. He didn’t even notice the approach of another person.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Thurron had limped up to stand next to him.

“Oh, hello Thurron. Why are you here?” Had Kite called for him? She’d stayed in bed that morning when he’d got up to see the balloons.

“To remind myself what I’m missing.” He stared up at the balloons. “Otherwise I might get fond of working in the inn.”

“I see,” Saryth said.

“One day I want my own balloon.”

“Why?”

“So that I can go where I want. I want to explore, not pick up bird droppings.” He edged forwards. “I want to see what’s over the horizon. To sail the endless sky.”

Sarth felt the words echo inside him, speaking to something he rarely ever took account of. The same feeling he had when staring at the sky outside Corwaith Keep, the same feeling as when he’d followed Kite away, into something completely outside his experience. Exhilarating, wonderful, potentially dangerous. He took a deep breath of the salty air.

“That’s not your natural hair, is it?” The question wrenched him back to earth. Breathe. Breathe. Don’t panic.

“No, it isn’t. Why -”

“You can always tell.” Thurron was still watching the balloons, still at ease. Not the pose of someone confronting a dangerous criminal. “But don’t worry,” he smiled. “My cousin wears a wig too, it’s not that unusual.”

“Ah, yes...” Saryth put his hand to his head, torn between indignation and relief.

“We should go, you know,” Thurron said, turning away. “I have to help with breakfast, and you have to eat it.”

Saryth followed, turning to look back at the balloons strung out in the morning sky like pearls on the necklace of the dawn. Free and not free, flying to pick up bird droppings. Something else to add to the balance he was trying to find.

Breakfast was reheated stew with fresh bread, even tastier than the night before and very welcome after their exertions over the rooftops. Thurron came out from the kitchen to say goodbye with his uncle.

“Thank you for your custom,” said the innkeep. “Safe travels!”

“Goodbye, and thank you.”

On the way out, Kite took a detour via one of the smaller markets, where she mused over a table arrayed with secondhand footwear. Eventually she chose a small, plain, sturdy pair of boots, much to Saryth’s bemusement. They were good quality, but in no way a replacement for the tall black boots Kite already wore.

“How much are these, please?” she asked the stallholder.

“They’re fine leather, they are,” he said, the traditional opening. “One gold horse coin.”

“Thank you very much,” Kite said, handing over the money. The stallholder gaped.

“Um, thank you,” he said, but Kite was already turning away.

“You’re supposed to haggle,” Saryth said, amused, as they left the market and headed for the nearest city gate.

“I know. I didn’t feel like it. Come on, let’s go.”

“But... why boots?”

His question went unanswered until, about fifteen minutes into the walk away from Taerside, Jig caught up to them.

“Wait!” she shouted. Saryth jumped and turned, but Kite just smirked. “Wait for me!” The thief panted up to them and bent over, breathing hard. Her feet, protected only by wrappings, looked sore from the run on the rutted earth.

“You? Why -?” Saryth was nonplussed.

“What do you want?” Kite’s face was solemn, her amusement hidden.

“Let me come with you,” Jig said, straightening.

“Why do you want to?”

“Because.. everyone knows I messed up last night.”

“We didn’t say anything.”

“I know,” she waved a hand, “but stuff gets around. And you’re interesting.”

“Interesting how?” Saryth folded his arms, unimpressed with her plea.

“No-one’s ever seen clothes like hers before,” Jig pointed at Kite. “And you’re a sorcerer.”

“What?” That had come from nowhere. Calm down. She isn’t afraid and she’s not about to tell anyone. Kite snickered unhelpfully.

“Any sneak thief can smell hair dye,” Jig said with a grin. “Yours is very good, but it still doesn’t shine right.”

“I had to wear a towel round my head for three days for this, and it’s that obvious?” Does that mean she knows how to get hair dye? That could be useful.

“Well, we’re going to Kirmouth,” Kite said, recapturing the conversation. “If you want to come, you’re welcome. You might need these.” She produced the boots, and Jig’s face lit up.

“Thanks!” She grabbed them, sat down and pulled them on over her footwraps.

“Kirmouth?” Saryth asked. He hadn’t really paid attention to their destination.

“I need to talk to someone.”

“About the sun?”

“No, not quite. I don’t think the sun has been very close to this world. The Eskandian technology could be simply a precursor to a normal phase shift.” There was that phrase again, but he didn’t interrupt. “So I think it’s time to move on.”

Finished, Jig jumped up, admiring her new boots, and Kite started walking again.

“After Kirmouth, I think I’ll be leaving this world.”