Saia and Serit left the hostel early in the morning, after refusing Atan’s half-asleep offer to escort them. Only one of the birdguards followed them, plumage ruffled with irritation. The sky outside was still a light azure, punctuated by the spirits still working at that our. The activity was more intense in the higher parts of the city, where shilvé and humans couldn’t go. Saia wondered how life could be for someone who never needed to sleep, then realized it wasn’t much different than what she was experiencing. Whoever had her shard still deactivated her at night, which was terrifying now that she lived suspended in the sky.

Without the crowd to obscure their view, they easily found the market district. Some platforms had been rearranged during the night to make space for new stands, and a few merchant assistants were already setting them up for the day.

Filsun stood out as the only light at the entrance of the residential district. The schedule he had sent them consisted mostly of early morning or late evening lessons, since he spent most of the day and night training young spirits.

“Welcome,” he greeted them, smiling at Saia. “Ready for a new challenge?”

“Let's discuss something else, first,” Serit interjected, then glanced around.

The only other presence in the area was their birdguard on the lower platform, and approaching spirits were easy to spot.

“Sure,” Filsun said. “I didn't expect you to accept, after yesterday.”

“I consider Hilon family, and you're her father,” they explained quickly. “Saia found out that the elders are buying iron and copper in huge quantities. And glass containers, probably to store food.”

Filsun nodded, hovering a bit higher.

“I’ve thought about it,” Serit continued. “Copper is one of the best materials to trace efficient patterns on iron.”

“How much iron are we talking about?”

“Dozens of crates, and it was just one cargo. Too heavy to be stored in the city. It was bought by a lower elder and we don't know where it is.”

“Thank you. I'll talk to my contacts, I'm sure someone smarter than me can figure out their plans.”

“Who are your contacts?” Serit asked. “You said you had resources, but they can't be that good if you still need me.”

Filsun produced a bitter smile.

“We all come from the lower strati of society, so we can't get closer to the elders. You are not tied to the ascension and can express dissent without being labeled as a traitor. You have a high social standing and the approval of your representatives…”

“Only one,” Serit specified. “And she'll get impatient if she won't get results.”

Filsun smiled wider.

“Well, you’re here with the approval of at least a representative, we don't need to divulge the details. Point is, we'll need someone to talk to the elders to convince them to postpone the ascension. You could request a meeting, if you can prove you have something important to say.”

Serit’s eyes flared, and for a moment Saia thought they were about to refuse and storm out. She couldn't blame them: it was an extremely unfair request, asking them to take all the risks of a rebellion in exchange for some lessons. But what they requested of her was even more unfair, so she didn’t mind seeing them struggle.

Serit gradually calmed down, their eyes getting more calculating.

“I’ll do it only if I'll be in a position to ask them something else for myself. You'll give me the arguments I’ll have to present and help me integrate them with my own requests. I won't do anything if the chance of me obtaining what I want won't look good enough.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“You'll know when it's time. We're too far from that point, we have no idea what the next step of ascension will be.”

Filsun nodded, his hair an indistinct mass of luminous fog.

“In regards to that, I have a possible lead that you could follow.”

Serit crossed their arms.

“Again, why me?”

“Because he won't talk with spirits for fear of being kicked away, despises humans, and you're the only shilvé interesting enough to catch his attention without having to pay a disproportionate amount of coin.”

Serit retreated slightly, as if they already knew what to expect.

“Who is he?”

“A memory reader.”

Serit shook their head. They looked at Saia, as if expecting the same dismay.

“Let's get started with the lesson, shall we?” Filsun said before they could find the words to answer. “Then I'll give you the information you need, and you can freely decide whether you want to investigate or not.”

“Freely,” Serit repeated in a cold tone.

They sat down between two vases and observed Saia practice for two hours, in complete silence and with a haunted expression on their face.

They were back at the hostel district, two birdguard following their steps. Serit had been fuming since Filsun had completed his description of the man they'd been looking for: an old shilvé who officially worked as a healer, but in practice offered memory-reading services at exorbitant prices. Apparently, Filsun’s contacts had spotted an elder visiting him for a total of three times, enough to think they had requested his other skills.

“Why would an elder ask for a memory reading?” Saia asked.

“That's what I'm wondering too,” he murmured between their teeth. “I wish they'd just gone to a brothel, to be honest. Much easier to deal with.”

They gestured in the general direction of the platforms around them, all closed like the rooms of the hostel, displaying multi-colored cloths in a competition for the one that was the most noticeable and appealing.

They were in the lowest area of the entertainment district, directly under the hostel one. There was almost no one around at that hour of the morning, except for the occasional eye observing the outside through the folds of their entrance. Human eyes, mostly.

Serit sighed.

“But more seriously, some spirits don't reject their human origins completely. At the very least, they are curious about the vague memories they had since birth. It's rare for an elder to risk this much, though.”

“I didn't know it was possible to read memories.”

“Don't worry, tanhata are immune and I have the suspicion you are too.”

“Why?”

“Because if you’re not one of us you have to drink éshan first. Only humans and completely solid wind spirits can do that. Then the reader manipulates the éshan inside the body to access the data stored in the person's viss.”

Saia thought about the monks’ trials.

“Can he remove memories too?”

Serit’s eyes flashed with curiosity.

“Why this question?”

Saia didn’t answer, not wanting to give them precious details about the mountains.

“It’s interesting that you would ask that,” Serit continued. “There are also memory wipers and memory writers. Three separate sets of skills that require their own training and they’re regulated by different laws.”

“How can one delete memories without reading them?”

“They can locate them temporarily. Say you want to forget every single thing that happened two days ago. A decent memory reader can wipe away your memory from today up to that point. A good memory reader will be able to locate the memories belonging to that exact date, give or take a few hours. An excellent one… Well, they probably would know some techniques or memory reading and find exactly what they need.”

They stopped in front of a ladder that led up to another platform. The walls of cloth were a dull dark green, completely unimpressive compared to the golden embroidery of the adjacent rooms.

“This looks sketchy, and trust me, I’ve seen a lot of sketchy stuff,” Serit said. “But we already knew he pretends to be a healer, so he's probably not licensed as a memory reader. Please wait here,” they said to the birdguard.

Saia expanded her domain to look inside the platform: it was dark, but she could still see the old shilvé crouched next to the entrance, looking at them through the folds of the cloth.

“He's watching us,” she said in Serit's ears.

“Healer Urnit,” they said out loud, startling the old man. “We're here for your services.”

The flap of cloth was drawn aside.

“It's early. Shop's closed.”

“We can pay.”

“You're not carrying any bags, so you probably don’t have enough.”

“The representatives of Iriméze sent us here. Whatever payment you request, we can find an agreement. But we can’t talk out here.”

The old man looked at the guards.

“They stay out.”

Their blue plumage raised like heckles, but Serit nodded.

“It was already our intention. I'm sorry,” they added, talking to the guards. “We're leaving you out in the cold twice today. I’ll give you extra for your help when we go back.”

Saia climbed the ladder after Serit. The inside of the room was divided in two by a cloth tied to the top of the wooden frame. The side they were standing on was almost completely empty, except for glass bottles wrapped in cloth, a soft carpet, and the sleeping bag on top of it. All the illumination in the room was given by a small wind sprite, moving around freely.

“You're not here for my healing,” the old man commented, standing on the opposite side of what technically was his house, shop and room at once.

“No. We need information about one of your clients.”

The man didn't react to that, staring straight at Serit instead.

“What's your name?”

Serit tensed. Saia wondered what difference it could make to tell the man that information, why they didn't just give him a fake name if they were so worried. Then she realized it wasn't exactly their name the old man was looking for.

“Does it matter?” Serit asked. It sounded almost like they were begging.

“Yes. I want to know name and affiliation of anyone I work with.”

Serit breathed deeply.

“I’m Serit.”

Urnit’s eyes widened in hearing their god-particle.

“The lady of the light.”

Serit looked to the side.

“What do you need?” the old man asked.

“The representatives have received news of an imminent ascension.” Serit's eyes slowly drifted back to the man. “They want to know which form it will take in order to adjust Iriméze’s economic treaties with the elders.”

Urnit’s eyebrows raised with sudden interest.

“I’m not an elder,” he said.

“No, but one of your customers is. We want to know what you saw in their memories.”

Urnit’s brows raised. He sighed, stepping closer to the sleeping bag.

“This will cost you a lot.”

“We have money.”

“I don't mean that. Memories.”

“No,” Serit answered before Saia could even process what was being said.

“My daughter…”

“No. Anything but this.”

“Then I fear your informers were wrong. I haven't met a single elder in years.”

Serit closed their eyes as if in pain. When they opened them, they were looking at Saia. She had no idea of what was going on, nor whether she wanted to help, so she just stared back.

“I will tell you. By voice,” Serit said, reluctantly facing the old man again.

“No. I want to be sure, so I need to see her face.”

“What's going on?” Saia snapped. “Which memories are you talking about?”

Serit stepped back toward the entrance, gesturing for her to follow them.

“He's talking about the memories I had when I was... When I first appeared in this world.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes people seek us children of viss with a portrait and a memory reader in hope to find which one of us is their loved one.”

“And then what? It's not like they can get them back.”

“That's not how they see it.”

“And what happens if they find someone with the right memories?”

“It's only happened once in my life: it was a well-off family that lived at the bottom. They took my friend in as if she was part of their family all along, just because she had a memory of their son. Her life improved, of course,” their tone became bitter, “But she has to act like him as much as she can, answer when they call his name and pretend she enjoys what he did.”

They sighed.

“At least she has a better life than what we could ever give her.”

They turned to look at the old man.

“I have two guards outside,” they said. “If I have an inkling that you read the wrong memories, I'll have them slit your throat.”

Urnit only laughed.

“Your threat is wasted. In a month I'll rain for the last time. I can feel it in my bones, my viss isn't moving like it used to.”

Serit nodded, apparently believing him. They spoke to Saia again, their voice little more than a breath.

“Please check that he doesn't change or delete anything.”

She recoiled.

“What? How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don't know, but please try. I can't lose anything, I need all of my knowledge to accomplish what I have to do. And there are things he should never know.”

“That's not my problem. I already wasted a lot of viss to help you and received nothing in exchange.”

“You keep asking for the only thing I can't give you.”

“I’ll believe that you can't when I'll see you trying.”

Serit dropped to their knees. Saia was so shocked that she stepped back, staring at their cupped hands.

“Please,” they said, tone still extremely low. “I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can, to the best of my abilities. I can't promise to let you go home, but my knowledge is at your service.”

Saia would have refused, but she was close enough to see their viss buzz with fear and she couldn't bring herself to ignore it. She hated the empathy she felt for their feelings, when they weren't forced to feel her own. For an instant, she was tempted to flood Serit with her nostalgia for home, the uncertainty of not knowing whether her family and friends were safe, the resentment and anger toward them and their representatives.

But that wasn't the moment.

“Fine,” she said in their ears.

Serit nodded and stood.

“Thank you.”

They stepped toward the old man, who was now pointing at the sleeping bag.

“You can lay down here. Close your eyes and think about the memories from your birth.”

Serit scoffed at the word, but did as instructed. Saia stepped forward until she stood over them.

Urnit sat down next to Serit's head and put his fingers on Serit's temples. Saia expanded her domain just enough to see the flow of energies in both of their bodies.

The old man's viss flowed down from his fingers into Serit's body. She saw it interacting with Serit's éshan, absorbing the data.

At that moment, Saia realized she had no idea how she was supposed to make sure that the old man was only reading the memories he was supposed to. The only data she could understand was the one stored in the éshan, since the rest appeared only as random intensities. She focused on the information Urnit was copying, and her vision was filled with a huge garden.

She was on top of a flying city, similar in structure to Iriméze but different in a lot of other ways. The garden at the top in place of the barren ground, to begin with, and the thick walls of glass that surrounded it. She saw a man with slate skin at her side. He smiled, and she knew he was very important to her.

She stopped, feeling extremely uncomfortable about seeing Serit's past, or better, the past of the people who made up their body. Still, she realized, it was the only way to know whether the information Urnit was accessing were only the ones he'd gotten permission for.

Before she could resume reading, she felt a sudden surge of viss coming from inside her statue. She immediately focused on Aili’s shard, but she didn’t notice any change: it was still covered with her viss.

She waited, hoping she would send another message, panicking at the same time because she couldn't read it.

“Done,” Urnit said, startling her.

Serit opened their eyes, blinked a bit, then slowly sat up.

“What do you know about the next ascension?” they asked, in the tone of someone who wanted to be six towerlengths away from that room.

“You're not interested to know whether I found what I was looking for?”

“You didn’t,” Serit answered. “It's clear from your face.”

They stood, and Saia imitated them.

“So, Urnit?”

“I haven't seen much,” he said. “Whatever it is, it used a lot of iron.”

Serit crossed their arms.

“You have to give me a bit more than that.”

Saia expanded her domain, keeping part of her attention on the viss inside her sphere. She started to worry about the lack of activity. What if it wasn't a message, but a request for help? But no, she had perceived a lot of enthusiastic energy, nothing that resembled fear. She wanted to answer with a signal of her own, but she wasn't sure of how to do that without flooding the shard's viss with her own, losing the only connection she had with Aili.

“I’m not completely sure of what I've seen,” Urnit was saying. “There were pieces and impressions. I clearly remember a huge chain.”

“A chain,” Serit repeated, unimpressed.

“Exactly. A bit like the ones we use to connect our cities to the earth.”

Her sphere pulsed with new viss. Saia focused on it again, ignoring the old man’s words: now Aili was sending signals with different intensities at regular intervals.

“They'll use the chain to periodically send the hunters back,” she distractedly heard Urnit saying. “And store the meat in glass containers.”

There was a weird shift in the old man’s viss while he was saying that, but Saia couldn't investigate, because the messages suddenly stopped. She had received nineteen in total, and she had no idea of what any of them meant.

“That's it,” Urnit concluded.

Serit looked at Saia.

“Do you think he's telling the truth?” they whispered.

She quickly nodded, wishing they would just stop involving her completely.

“Well, then, we're done here,” they said, turning to leave. “And if you learn more, there’s money waiting for you at our hostel.”

They gave Urnit the directions to their room and left. Saia followed them outside, thinking that Aili wouldn't send messages without establishing a way to read them, first. She counted them again, then realized: nineteen, like their alphabet's letters. Aili had sent her a code.

She started to compose the answer in her head as they returned to the hostel, to let her know that she had understood. She only needed to learn how to send it.