“Sorry for missing yesterday evening’s lesson,” Serit said as they entered with Saia into Filsun's garden.

He welcomed them in by opening his arms as if to hug them both from a distance. Saia noticed that his contours were trembling more than usual. She checked his viss, but it didn't seem to be caused by anything more than apprehension.

“Don't worry, I'm only glad you're safe. There have been some commotions in the industrial districts, I hope you weren't involved.”

Serit stepped behind Filsun and gave Saia a sideway glance through his translucent body.

“Atan has made us stay inside for that very reason,” they said, as Saia observed Filsun's reaction to their words. “He was worried the situation would get worse. Sorry for not alerting you.”

“It wasn't a problem, really. I don't sleep and I didn't have other plans,” he said, looking at the dark morning sky, the pink and orange slowly rising from the horizon.

Saia didn't find anything off in Filsun's reaction. But she also wasn't an expert like Riena, so there could be something she was missing.

“He seems sincere,” she still said in Serit's ears, then to Filsun: “What’s the lesson about, today?”

“Legs,” he answered, voice as cheerful as usual.

He proceeded to take a solid shape, allowing Saia to memorize the movement of his viss.

“Do you know what exactly happened yesterday?” Serit asked from their spot on the floor.

“No, but I've asked some friends to investigate. I've heard ten different versions so far, some talking about a flying ship.”

He chuckled, unaware of Serit's tense face. They crossed their legs and spread out some sheets of recycled paper in front of them, then took out a piece of graphite wrapped in cloth from a pocket.

Filsun switched to his fog form, and Saia started with her first attempt to solidify his legs.

“We investigated,” Serit said. “Asked your resource what the elders are planning.”

Filsun turned the vague shape of his head, his interest evident both in voice and viss.

“And?”

“Don't take what I'm about to say as the absolute truth, there's a chance we've been lied to. Apparently, they want to build a chain.”

They relayed the old man's exact words, as well as the questions they had asked the workers at the market. Saia realized at that moment just how many details she had lost during the conversation with the old man: she didn’t remember, for example, that the chain was meant to be anchored to the earth and built upward for the whole duration of the spirits’ journey to their gods’ abode.

“Do you know any traders who might be involved?” Serit asked.

Filsun thought about it, staring at his own half-solid legs.

“There's a lot of people the elders could have asked to, I'll try to investigate as discreetly as I can. But I ensure you it's the first time I hear anything about this.”

Saia checked his viss, then nodded as if to herself to communicate that he was telling the truth.

“Now that we know what they're planning,” Filsun added. “Have you thought about that meeting with the elders?”

“I won't meet them,” Serit said immediately. “But I can tell you what to say if you find another way to contact them. I have experience with building long ladders, I know what the critical points are. Frankly, if that’s actually their project, either they have found some amazing new patterns or it will fail badly.”

Filsun returned solid enough that his expression became visible again.

“If we don't get a meeting, we might need to sabotage them.”

Serit sighed.

“I’ll think a bit on how you could do that, just promise me you will act after we've left the city.”

Filsun nodded. He looked a bit disappointed, but still smiled at Serit.

“I appreciate it.”

“But you hoped for more.”

“Yes. But I won't ask anything else.”

Serit gave him a sharp nod, as if to signal that the topic was closed. Filsun looked at Saia.

“I think you're ready for a more difficult test. Solidify as much of my body as you can.”

Saia tried, starting with the hands, which only came easy as long as he didn't move them, then slowly added pieces of his legs.

“You're wasting a bit of viss, there,” he pointed out. “The movement should be tighter in the left palm.”

She adjusted her control on his viss based on his suggestions. They kept practicing for little more than an hour, until Filsun's trembling torso of fog stood on two perfectly solid legs.

“Excellent,” he said, “You're making a lot of progress. This evening we'll work some more on the arms.”

Serit finished writing down some notes, then gave him a stack of coins taken from one of their pouches. This time, Filsun didn't protest.

“See you tomorrow,” he said as they left his platform.

They walked through the market, only crossing platforms full of people. Saia surveyed each one before they entered: she preferred wasting a bit of viss that way than a lot to run behind Serit and their kidnappers.

Once back at the hostel, they took a different corridor of platforms than the one leading to their room. Serit had booked a different one the day before without Atan's knowledge, paying the owner extra coins for a bit of discretion.

They entered, finding three people inside: the prisoner, tied and asleep on the floor, and two birdguards standing at opposite corners of the room. Saia had expected to find the same two who had helped her save Serit, but there was just one of them. The other was apparently their captain.

Serit greeted him by raising their cupped hands.

“I imagine your subordinates have told you everything,” they said.

“Of course. We've tried to interrogate the prisoner, but we can't awaken him.”

Serit halted next to the sleeping man.

“The wound?” they asked.

“Stable. A healer should come here in the afternoon.”

Serit nodded. They closed the palm of their hand around the prisoner's sweaty arm. His pale skin had taken on a yellowish tinge of sickness.

“Let's try again, I'll help you.”

The two guards approached the sleeping man. Their heads turned to look at Saia, who was still standing near the entrance. Serit didn't ask her to help, so they knelt down and ignored her.

The three of them touched the prisoner and closed their eyes. The room remained silent and still for a bit, so Saia stepped closer and expanded her domain to check what they were doing.

She immediately saw that the prisoner's viss had many different imprints, as if it belonged to a handful of different people. It was also increasing in quantity, both with the energies pouring in from Serit and the guards and with others appearing from apparently nowhere. The three shilvé gradually increased their outpour of viss, until it was almost stronger than the one coming from the outside. Almost.

She was debating on whether to chime in with some viss of her own or let them struggle, when she felt something change within her statue. She had the feeling something was wrong, but her sphere wasn't the problem.

She examined her body until she found Aili’s shard. The change was almost imperceptible, a human wouldn’t have been able to detect it. Maybe not even a god, but she’d been keeping the shard on herself for days, like a part of her.

“Aili,” she whispered.

In the silence of the room it had the effect of a shout. Serit stood, looking around with a worried face. When no immediate danger appeared, they focused on Saia.

“What's going on?”

She ignored them, taking Aili's shard out of her shoulder. The viss was not as lively as it had felt before and she had no idea whether it meant she was asleep or cracked.

“Saia? What's going on?” Serit repeated under their breath.

The guards were staring at them with their blindfolds on, but gave no sign of approaching.

“Her shard,” Saia said, shaking it in her palm.

“Your friend? What happened?”

“I don't know! I wasn't paying attention and know she's like this.”

“Like what?”

"I don't know. She could be asleep, she could… She could be dead, but I have no way to know…”

“You do,” Serit cut her off. “Send her a bit of your viss. If she's alive, it will reach her. If she's not…”

“It will stay on the shard,” Saia said, immediately sending Aili a speck of her buzzing viss with full intention to wake her up.

The viss didn't stay on the shard, but Aili didn't awaken either.

“She's not dead,” Saia said. “But I can't activate her. I need to wake her up, she might be in danger.”

“I can try, if you want.”

Saia hesitated. She remembered Zeles asking her to deactivate him in order not to waste his viss. Maybe that was part of Aili's plan. Maybe she'd asked Dan, or Morìc, or someone else to deactivate her for some reason, and she would ruin everything by activating her. She could ruin everything just by trusting Serit too much.

Besides, the monks didn’t have Aili’s shard anymore.

“No,” she said in the end. “But something’s happening and I need to go home. Now.”

Serit tensed, as if expecting her to shower them with her feelings again.

“Unfortunately I can't do anything on that front.”

“I’m getting really fucking tired of hearing that, especially after I've saved you for the second time.”

“To be fair, you're doing what I've asked of you the day we met. But to be even more fair,” they added quickly, sensing her growing anger, “I can see my people wanting to interact with mount Ohat and your monks at some point, so I don't see why you couldn’t be sent back in the company of a representative or something. You just need to be patient.”

“I don't want anyone to send me back, I want to go home on my own terms. I thought you understood by now that I'm not here of my own choice.”

“And I thought you understood I don't make decisions. The representatives do.”

“If you really wanted, you'd find a way out. You'd fake an incident or something and let me go.”

Serit glanced at the guards, as if suggesting she shouldn't be saying those words in front of them. She ignored them, since the only alternative was to yell straight into Serit's ears.

“You're so smart when it comes to building weapons or finding uses for my viss, and you're telling me you wouldn't find a way out if you thought about it?”

She realized she was still holding Aili's shard and put it away inside her shoulder. She didn't want some of her viss staining it by mistake.

“You must really want that money the representatives are giving you,” she added.

“It's not about money.”

“Then what? See the earth down there? Well, I know someone who would love to explore the world, but if she left then the mountain would tremble, so she stays. She'd never ruin someone's life for her gain.”

“I… I never wanted to go to earth myself. I think I would hate it, actually. I think it would feel like an entirely new world, and I kind of hate stuff that's too unpredictable.”

“I really don't care. This isn't what I was talking about and you know it: you have some reasons why you're doing this, but you like to act as if you're totally innocent.”

“I can tell you why I'm working for the representatives, maybe it would clarify the situation.”

“I doubt it, but go ahead.”

They stepped closer and lowered their voice to the point only Saia could hear it.

“I’m doing it because if I succeed, the representatives will move the children of viss' shelter from the fourth level to the second.”

They emphasised the word, as if Saia should have been as excited about it as they sounded. She knew it was something important, but didn't remember exactly why.

“Then they won't need... Documents?” she tried, remembering pieces of the conversation they'd had on her first day above the clouds.

Serit shook their head.

“The shelter takes in people like us, but it’s not an official institution. It was built directly from the first children of viss that appeared on Iriméze. This would allow us to register it, make it official and take in even more people. And yes, they could go from one level to another without having to prove they're citizens.” They suddenly smiled. “I’m impressed you remembered that, your people don't even use documents.”

Saia deliberately closed her eyes and sighed.

“Don't do that. Let's stay on topic. Isn't there any other way you could achieve that without involving me?”

They shrugged.

“It's easy and fast compared to the alternatives. And it still allows me to be paid and receive funding for my research, but that's secondary.”

“I would like to hear these alternatives.”

Serit dared a tight-lipped smile.

“Nothing you could do anything about even with a lot more viss at disposal. Mostly talk to the other citizens, make them aware of what's it like for us. Make them care, possibly without manipulating their viss. And I don't know how to do any of that. It would make everyone hate me even more. I'll eventually lose the representatives' support and be unable to continue my research.” They looked to the side, seemingly thinking of something else. “Which might also happen if I fail with this project, to be honest. I promised the representatives a lot of things and used a lot of their resources, so I don't think failure is an option I should even consider.”

So there was it, Saia realized: her demise or Serit's. Except she was the one kept away from home and being considered a walking reservoir of viss. At least now she knew there was no convincing them to help her.

She focused on the sleeping man.

“Let's get this over with.”

She approached him, pushing her viss into his body in the exact quantity needed to awaken him. He started to rise, but the guards extracted their tridents and pointed them at his throat, forcing him to stay down.

“I’m on your side,” Saia said in the man's ears, then to Serit: “Ask away, but keep it short. I don't want to waste too much viss.”

They looked so pleasantly surprised it almost made her feel guilty.

The man looked at her, blinking, then at Serit. She felt his fear grow in his viss, even if his face remained still.

“Who are you?” Serit asked. “Why do you want to kidnap me?”

He looked up at the two blindfolded guards.

“I… We're trying to make Iriméze a better society for everyone.”

“Which means?”

“We want the fourth level to become a part of the city like any other.”

“We?” Serit emphasised the word, leaning forward. “I could understand it if you were just humans, but there are shilvé among you. Unless they all live on the fourth level, I don’t see why they would care so much for the people who do.”

Saia wondered how much of their belief that there wasn't another way to achieve what they wanted was tied to that conviction.

“Most of them are related to us, and the ones who aren’t want what we're offering them: make it so that no shilvé will have to rain anymore.”

All the three cloud people in the room tensed and looked at each other through the blindfolds, as if to check that they had actually heard their words right.

“What do you mean?” Serit cautiously asked.

“I can't tell you the details.”

The birdguards’ captain raised his beak toward Serit, as if to ask for permission. They shook their head, then started pacing around the room, deep in thought.

“Listen to me,” Saia said in the man's ears. “You must know who I am, right? Scratch your head for 'yes', your nose for 'no’.”

He hesitated, then did both in quick succession. He knew a little, Saia interpreted.

“Do you know that the representatives have my shard and can deactivate me through it?”

He scratched his bald head for a slightly longer time.

“Good. Do you have a way to communicate with your people?”

He raised a hand, but let it fall back onto his lap without scratching anything. The glance he gave Saia was full of distrust.

“You don't want to tell me, understandable. Well, if you can communicate with them, tell them that I will help them once, at two conditions.”

His head perked up, then he immediately looked somewhere else to hide the fact he was listening to her.

“First, I want to know where my shard is. Don't take it yourselves,” she quickly added, realizing that would only worsen her situation. “But look for it and tell me where they're keeping it. Close your hands if you understood so far.”

He closed his fists. Saia was about to go on with her second condition, when Serit stopped pacing and stepped in front of the man.

“I won't order the guards to hurt you. But we'll go back to Iriméze in three weeks, and then you'll be delivered to the representatives. The guards are under their orders, not mine. It's up to you if I'll present you like a simple pawn of your organization or one of the leaders.”

The man glanced at Saia as if to ask for her help. She felt something else taking hold of his viss besides the fear: a lot of external energies that moved in waves. The other rebels had redoubled their efforts to make him unconscious. She needed to tell him her second condition before she wasted too much viss, but Serit had resumed speaking.

“So, since you didn't answer the first time: why did you want to kidnap me?”

“We need your knowledge.”

“About what? Why?”

Saia realized Serit wanted to gauge whether they knew about the research, like the prisoner’s sentence about the shilvé not raining anymore had suggested.

“I can't say anything about that.”

“Second condition,” Saia began, taking advantage of the instant of silence. “You won't ask me to do something that will hurt or kill people. And I won't mess with Serit, since they'll permanently deactivate me if I do.”

She noticed his fists were still closed tight from the tension.

“If you understood, open your hands.”

He did, slowly as not to startle the guards.

“You'd better tell me something more,” Serit said in the end. “Right now, I feel like you might be the leader of the organization and it would be worth it to lock you up forever. Why did you have my whistle? Who built that flying ship?”

They had used the same term as Filsun had for describing it, even if Saia didn’t recall the structure having the shape of a ship. She felt the man's distress and realized she had no reason to keep him awake, so she stopped influencing him. He dropped backward, unconscious. Serit turned to glare at her.

“It was clear he wasn't going to reveal anything,” she explained. “And his friends were increasing the flux of viss a bit too much.”

Serit nodded.

“We don't know much, but at least we have an idea about who these people are. Some sort of rebels.”

Saia nodded distractedly. She followed them out when they left the room.

During the following three days, she kept exercising with Filsun. Serit took notes the whole time, interjecting every once in a while with a question about patterns and viss. The time outside the lessons was spent exercising inside the room or on the platforms around the hostel, provided there weren't spirits around. Saia practiced the solidification patterns she was learning on the éshan that Serit had brought from Iriméze. Part of her mind was always focused on Aili's shard, hoping for a change, part of it on her surroundings, awaiting a sign from the prisoner's accomplices. He was being healed by a shilvé doctor that came in every once in a while to check up on his conditions, but he still slept. Whoever was keeping him asleep was probably taking turns to contrast the birdguards' attempts to awaken him.

On the afternoon of the third day, they heard a voice calling from outside their room.

“Engineer Serit?”

Saia recognized the hostel's owner. Serit quickly hid their notes in the bags they had brought.

“I’m coming out, please don't enter.”

The only birdguard in the room gripped their trident, but didn't move from their corner.

Saia followed Serit outside, where the hostel's owner was fluctuating in fog form.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but there are guards asking about you.”

Serit's hand tightened around the flap of cloth that closed the entrance.

“Why?”

“They only mentioned the elders wanting to talk to you. And they said that if you don't follow me out, they'll enter the building themselves.”

Their words suggested it was a scenario they really wanted to avoid.

“Sure,” Serit glanced at Saia. “Sure, I'll... I'll follow you.”

They walked down the corridor, viss buzzing with confusion and fear. Saia debated with herself for an instant, then followed them.