When the smell of pork fat and re-heated bread came up to the window I left and locked the door. I went through the hall and down the square central staircase. The noise of the common room echoed up from below and the air rising to the skylight above was hazy from the smoke of dozens of pipes clutched like small prayer beads in the hands of the gnarled forms that stood on the landings. There were always ones like that in buildings like this. Some old, some crippled, some mad or slow, always looking out and watching whoever comes and goes. Some do it out of having nothing to do, but a few are tiny yet essential parts of a machine that takes any kind of base desire and turns it into greasy coin. As I descended the stairs the last wisps of my pipe joined with the rest of them and rose to the sky through an old iron grate above.

In the common room, the tables were already half full. I got in line and thought about the day ahead. I would go down to the college again, track the students out of the class and find out where they went for lunch, for dinner, at dark. I would find one that looked like they wouldn’t be too scared of me and chat them up or buy them a drink. Maybe chat up the servers at the cafes. It was nothing. I had nothing. Last night I had felt sure as sin that the professor was going to dance to my song but now in the dull sludge of morning, I felt alone and unsure. I cursed myself and became certain the brandy had given me a rosy frame of mind. Thinking about it made me reach for my flask but I had made a point to leave it at home. I cursed that too.

Breakfast was re-steamed bread, pickled eggs, a spoon of butter, a spoon of pork fat, and a plain porridge. There were also great jugs of tea, and some ale if you paid for it. I didn’t.

I sat in a back corner on a bench and set the tray in my lap. I took some of the berries out of my coat pocket and dropped them in the porridge and used the spoon to crush them against the bottom of the bowl. I stirred the dark juice into the porridge until it turned a bright pink, then I went to work on the bread and eggs.

When my plate was bare on the bench next to me and I was leaning back finishing the tea I felt a changed man. I was gonna dig something out of that college if I had to walk the whole peninsula. If I still found nothing I’d go to work in the slums putting light in all the dark places, checking all the faces of the worked girls.

Then what? What would I be doing in a month if I still had nothing? What would my mind be like? What would my life be like? I broke the thought off and got up and put the plate back. I went out the door and left that thought drying out on the bench.

As I walked out the door, Dal, the morning doorman, gave me a gift.

“Alany, right?” He said.

“That’s right, Dal”

He smiled big.

“Just makin’ sure. Got a message for you.”

“Yea, what is it?”

He reached in his pocket. That surprised me.

“Courier brought it by early. Sent out last night on the signals. Was gonna run it into the office in your slot, but then I seen you.”

It was a sealed red envelope. I had never gotten anything off the signals before. The House of the Emperor himself subsidized that strange system of flags and mirrors, and made Throne its testing ground. No doubt they wanted most of the kinks worked out before fielding it in war.

“Thanks Dal. There a fee?”

“Yea, a half-jack. Dawn added it to your tab.”

“Swell of her. See ya’ around.”

I went halfway down the alley and opened it. It was a simple message on letter paper.

“Mr. Alany

I would like to discuss a friend of mine. You seem interested. Idala Café. 1 AN. I’ll wear green.”

It wasn’t signed. I heard the signals charged by the word, which might explain the brevity, but discretion could too. I had never been called Mr. Alany before.

One in the afternoon. I had never heard of the Idala Café. By the name I guessed it was near the college. All the Anasian fare was either in Garden city or tucked away on the northside, and I doubted any signal message came from the northside.

So now I had a lead, or the start of one, and a few hours to kill. When I got out to the street I tore the letter and envelope into small pieces and threw them down the gutter. I stood there a moment to put it all in place with what else I knew. The message was sent late yesterday, or it would have been there when I got home. It didn’t seem like enough time unless the professor talked to whoever sent it right after I left.

I felt eyes on me. A man standing still on that street at that hour always draws eyes. The Noodle place in the front of my apartment was roaring and the shops on either side weren’t doing too bad either. The air smelled of smoking oil and browning fat and the broad street was packed with buggies, carts, and rickshaws interwoven with pedestrians that hopped and dodged at angles across the street. All was noise and motion as I stood quiet, so I walked and smoked.

I thought it over and figured if this mystery person had anything for me to work on I would have to work on it fast. And if they didn’t, I’d have to get working on trying everything else just as quick. Every day, every hour I didn’t find her, it was that much more likely that…

I cut that off. It was probably a student that sent the letter so it would be best to look like an authority or at least like some kind of thug. I probably already had that down. I would also need to have a bit of money to work with. Going on foot was a luxury in these things.

I took a cab across the river to the Imperial City peninsula where I had a box at a veteran lockhouse. It rained lightly as I went over the river on the soaring bridge. Looking out across the steaming city at the horizon I couldn’t tell if it was going to start pouring or clear up.

When I got to the war district I looked out at the soldiers sitting outside the old army kitchens and shelters, some without even a full set of limbs between them. I wondered if I would be there with them If I had lost the arm and scratched the scar on my right elbow.

The Lockhouse was an old stone fortress and guarded by some purple boys with the newest rachets they made. The handles and clip housings on them looked strange to me and I felt that stung pride I always felt upon realizing that things had changed since I got out. I paid the cabby my fare so far and told him to hang around.

I climbed out and started up the stairs. When I was halfway up, two young Armsmen came out the double doors with slips in hand. They were talking jovially until they saw me, and together as if of one brain they scanned me up and down, saw my cloak with its stitches and patches, looked me dead in the eye, and no doubt seeing something just as telling there, gave me a nod which is useless to try and describe but anyone who has been on either side of one knows what it is. I nodded back and went up the rest of the stairs. I remembered now why I avoided this place and all other gatherings and allocations for veterans. Seeing someone else read your past in your eyes, your walk, on your jacket, raises old ghosts like nothing else. I passed through the doors at a jog.

I showed the desk girl my tag and she led me to the back. We both put our keys in the box and opened it. She stepped out without a word.

I took out four ships and eight jacks and put them in the pouch inside my shirt. I put five spears and twenty stars in my coin purse. I grabbed an old blackjack, one of the six knives, and a pack of lock-rakes.

In the chest was my breastplate with a single hole above where the right hip would be. The hole seemed frozen in time. I ran my finger over it and remembered the heat. In the back of the locker was a thick rectangular leather satchel folded closed. I took it out and looked it over. Inside was my old rachet bow, broken down. All the pieces were still well oiled. Looking at it after seeing those new ones out front was like waking up from a dream where your house had been moved or you didn’t recognize your wife. I put it up and gathered my things together and called for the girl. We locked up and she led me out.

I had the cabby take me to the post office. It was a squat square of brick at the top of a hill with other buildings pressing in on it. A signaling tower, a frame of metal and wood topped with the distinctive flags and mirror boxes, rose off the top of it. As I walked up the front steps, a carrier bird swooped down onto the roof and I heard the low soothing voice of the birdmaster.

Inside sunlight streamed in through the high windows and lit up the dust. There was a long row of clerk windows with lines of tightly dressed people waiting, smoking, reading. Along the edges were closely packed booths where others sat writing or picking over masses of papers spread out across the low tables like dinner plates. I took my place in line and looked up at the large clock set in the half wall above the clerk windows. It was just after nine. Having nothing else to do, I smoked a pipe and let my mind wander as the line moved.

I remembered the sound of her voice and the shudder of her breathing. Her skin had a distinct scent I had never smelled on any other woman and just the memory of it made me dig my heels into the tile and bite my pipe. I could see her floating before me. Her copper hair and pale skin dotted with cinnamon had carved their colors into my memory so thoroughly that I’m sure even if the suns exploded in my eyes I could call them to mind.

I felt wrong summoning her to a place packed with dusty clerks and old stationary, so I focused on the ticks of the big clock and watched smoke and dust dance in the sunbeam until it was my turn at the window.

The clerk was a girl fresh from school with a smile that made me wish I had gone to another window or walked up backwards. Her brown hair floated in thick waves and she was short enough that her doe eyes looked up at me as if she was on her knees. She purred a good morning and I spoke to her with a low rumble that I hadn’t planned.

“I need to same-day a local letter.”

Her smile curved as If I had just guessed what color her underclothes were. When she spoke her tone didn’t fit the words, to say the least.

“Residential or Business?”

“Residential”

“We sell scented envelopes. Some girls go for that.” She winked.

“This guy’s taller than you on my shoulders and weighs as much as both of us soaking wet.”

“Just imagine that.”

“I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.”

“So he’s a scary guy.”

“I just wouldn’t want to lead him on.”

She smiled and brought out a plain envelope, stamped it, and handed it to me. I didn’t take it and handed her a card with one of his addresses on it.

“Write that on the front for me.”

“You’re supposed to do that yourself.”

“Post guys don’t like my scrawl.”

“Mines pretty messy too.”

“Clean it up best you can.”

She took it from me with the same smile. I pulled a piece of paper off the stack and inked the pen

“You don’t even have it written yet?!” she said.

The guy behind me cleared his throat

“I'll be finished just when you are.” I said without looking up.

I could almost feel her smile in the pause before I heard her pen start again. I wrote:

“Dear Jack,

I won't be able to watch the kids for you any time in the next two weeks. Tell them I still love them and haven’t forgotten them.

Love, Jack D”

She finished a bit before I did and stood there smiling. I handed her the letter.

“That’ll be five marks.” She said.

I put a spear in her upturned little palm and her fingers brushed mine as she took it. She put it in the drawer and put the letter in the envelope. She took up the sealing brush and brought it to the envelope, stopped, then dabbed it on her tongue while looking me dead in the eye. I’m proud to say I didn’t jump out of my jacket.

“Careful doll. I hear that stuffs addictive”

“I know my limits.” She finished sealing the envelope.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She batted her eyes and all but gyrated. I let the first few answers that came to mind lie and gave her the fourth.

“No, thank you.”

I turned to leave then stopped myself and came back. I could be dead tomorrow, anyway, and the month alone must have gotten to me. I leaned in to the window and the guy behind cleared his throat again.

“If you were to get a scented envelope, what scent would you prefer?” She blushed, leaned forward, and whispered.

“Whiskey and sweat.”

I smiled like a schoolboy. “Enjoy your morning”

“Wait! You didn’t put any return information on it. What if some silly thing loses it?” She called after me. I was out of time for this sort of thing so I just smiled at her and walked towards the door. The guy behind me in line gave me a dark look.

I told the cabby to take me to within a block of the Idala Café. He knew where it was.

“I can take you right up to it, mister”

“No thanks. I wanna sneak up on it.”

He frowned and opened the door. I climbed in and wrenched my mind from thoughts of smiling brunettes to the possibilities of this meeting. It was almost certainly a student and I was hoping like hell they meant business. There was a good chance it was just some kid who had been indulging in all the usual youthful vices with Liana and wanted to know how much they’d be in for if it came out that she was tied up in something messy. There was a small but more concerning chance it was someone hooked up with whoever had taken her and once they saw my face and put a name to it I'd be marked as a dead man within the week.

That was the thing. Did she leave or was she taken? I had gone back and forth on it since our missed meeting, shifting between worlds like a lost spirit. In some worlds, she was laughing in the arms of some rich student, and in others, she was being carted away to some den of sin hidden in the hills where senators and brokers paid hard coin to break her. Or, she was lying dead in a back alley or roadside ditch. Even then I wouldn’t stay long in those worlds. I would have enough of that if it ever came to it.

Up until I found her absent from class, the most likely scenario was that she had simply gotten tired of me. I hadn’t enjoyed that possibility enough while it still seemed likely and now I was stuck with the others.

I hadn’t tracked anyone since the war and in those cases, I had the backing of the most powerful military on the planet. Now I had no one and no ideas. All I had was the knowledge that I was the only one looking. If I were in her shoes I damn sure would want someone better than a half jobless ex-soldier looking for me if my life depended on it. If she had been making love to some general’s son, like someone of her wit and beauty ought to have been, then maybe she’d have half the boys with the golden patches looking for her right now.

Maybe she didn’t need anyone looking for her. Maybe she just got sick of me and her studies all at once and ran off. It was a nice thought. I wished it still worked worth a damn.

The cab rolled up the bridge towards the Garden City and the Ea river glittered below me. Great barges and smaller crescent hulled traders sped away from me while ferries cut across sideways. The great river tangled around the eleven isles, reflecting their towering white stone faces in the dark fractured water.

As the cab moved over the bridge the imperial complex, with its rising levels of solid stone angles topped by the great tower, slid into view. I closed the window and shifted in my seat to look out the left towards the sprawling green of Garden city. Little stars of glittering light filtered through the trees here and there where sunlight struck the ponds, lakes, and canals. The suns were nearing the top of the sky and we had been driving for over half an hour.

The cab moved faster now that we were outside the old city but after a while, we slowed up again and I knew we were near the heart of Garden City, and most likely the café as well. Out the window, the buildings pressed in on the street and there were far more people on foot than in carriages. Shop faces and outside seating packed with students and tourists flowed by at a slow pace. The sound of affectatious speaking and forced laughter filled the air and I remembered I was old. The cab slowed to a pointless pace and I leaned forward to the flap.

“How much farther to the café?”

“You said get within a block of it.”

“Yea I know. How long till that?”

“We’re about two blocks away. Three blocks from the café.”

“Thanks, I’ll get out here.” I said and opened the door.

“You sure?” He asked from the driver’s seat.

“Yea, I’ll pay for the extra blocks anyhow.” I got the coins out in a hurry.

“Thanks, mister!”

The wind brought the smell of more rain as I stood out on the street, but the suns still seemed to reign above. I turned back to the cabby still waiting.

“It's just three blocks down that way, right?” I nodded in the direction he was heading.

“Oh, yea, it’s on the left up here. It’s a two-story with vines all over it.”

“Thanks again.”

I moved down the sidewalk and left the cabby standing still in the traffic. Half a block up at the end of the street a Trooper held up the line of carriages and carts to let by a stream of bouncing students. The day I see something like that on the northside is the day I’ll be able to avoid traffic altogether and just fly home.

The street was packed with bookstores, cafes, tailors, rice houses, and a few dance hall kitchens that sputtered out low lunch hour string music with the hum of conversation. Every establishment seemed to have tables out front behind low fences, even the tailors and cobblers, and they were filling up fast.

The sidewalk was a mass of people and I gave up walking tactically and took up a battering ram march with my chin out like a cavalry lance. Those who didn’t step away instinctively hopped to the side when they saw my jacket, probably used to seeing it’s like on vagrants. Others seemed to clock my step from yards away and were well to the side when I passed them.

The average age on the street was about 20 and the few outliers all had the same look. Cleaned up salarymen sitting like counts taking in an opera, flashing smiles and coins at girls who sat staring like kittens watching a mouse dance. It was embarrassing. At least I had had the decency to meet my kitten out of eyesight of her school.

I found the café and walked past it. It was covered in vines like the driver had said and the inside was well lit with sunlight. The aroma of roasted coffee rushed out of the front door and trampled over a few other more subtle smells I couldn’t place. Winding through them like a snake was the distinctive sharp scent of Anasian spiced tea. It was more subdued than the ones I had drunk on the isles but all the pieces were there. A tall kid with a military cut pushed his chair back suddenly and it sounded like a door being broken down. I controlled my breathing until the memories faded and focused on the sounds around me as I walked.

After I circled the block and had a good picture of everything nearby I came back to the street and looked at the café from a few doors down. The suns weren’t quite in the noon position yet. I hadn’t seen anyone in green on my first pass and didn’t now. I lit my pipe and sat down at one of the single tables outside the café with my back to the door.