On the tenth day of living in the seventh borough of the city, the pigeon tamers still had no letters for him from the royal domain. Davir had sent two letters. Paid two silver coins each. "Perhaps you should send another letter," said the pigeon tamer. But unlike the first time she had suggested it, she did not look Davir in the eye. At this rate, she was going to ruin him, and she knew it. Davir peered behind the pregnant woman, at the two children laboring in the small booth. Bringing in pigeons, sorting stamps and letters. Of course, she would want to squeeze the last Ceric coin from him.

In his drunken stupor, Heron could have lost Davir's address. Been reprehended into cutting ties with Davir. "Perhaps it will take some time until I hear back from the royal domain," Davir said for a lack of a better excuse to keep what little money he had.

Nothing turned as he planned and he found himself always running out of time in his hunt for the truth. His stone hand hadn't worsened, but Brigadier Kerm's stare on him every time they crossed paths in the barracks was the reminder that Davir's days in the barracks were counted until the brigadier turned against him. Good that the sacred tenth day of the week meant Davir didn't have the displeasure of seeing the brigadier's face.

Gripping the reins linking his hand to his mare's poll, he mounted her. "Hope you're ready to travel to the Port of Tholos," Davir said, caressing her flank. Although he had seized the company of transportation the morning following his arrival in the city, the first traveling caravans for the port of Tholos had already departed three days prior. But there hadn't been a boat for the Eastern continent yet. Nothing ruled out the possibility that the soothsayer could have departed elsewhere, Davir hadn't many other clues to consider. So, he glanced at his timestick, mounted the mare, and departed.

Abandoning the seventh borough for the poorer eighth one, and tackling alleys where vegetation and buildings merged first before the former took over completely, led Davir to the eastern portion of forest Scura. Gallopers swarmed the sandy paths streaming out of the city of Ceres. As the paths diverged, Davir found himself alone, safe from the occasional chariots.

The cranky mare seemed to rebel every time Davir attempted to increase her galloping speed. In a decisive fit of rebellion, she shook her body, almost sending Davir to the ground. He was agile enough to keep himself mounted, but the timestick was sent into a crash against a bunch of rocks scattered on the ground.

Davir jumped down his horse to retrieve the object. He inspected it closely, frowning and suspecting the thing was done for. The two separated units of the small cylinder were still intact, but a hole was carved through the poriferous stand that separated them, speeding the spillage. Liquid enough to mark the passage of ten heartbeats flew through when only two had passed. Perhaps it was time he listened to the other guards of his patrol and started using watches instead of timestick. The enigmatic gadgets worked with self-will; they surely could survive such falls.

It remained the sun overhead to track the passage of time as he trotted to the east coast. He turned to his mare who rested near a tree, still not appearing ready to be ridden. Ten days wasn't long enough for the creature to let herself be tamed.

Davir called her Yena, his old cranky lady. Given her state, there was no wonder Davir's gratitude for the gift had been dismissed by the Brigadier. If his mare state didn't allow him to get to the Port of Tholos on time, ten days needed to pass until Davir had another opportunity. Time enough for the soothsayer to escape if Davir's theory about her intention to flee to Tholos was right. The thought of it caused Davir's jaw to clench.

Davir threw the broken timestick flying across the empty trail, squinting against the sun before he seized the mare again. "You've rested for long enough." He caressed Yena's flank. "Will you give me the honor to ride you again?"

He unstrung the knot that kept her bound to the trunk of a tree and slapped her back with vigor before sending her back to his way to the coastal region. The lazy mare snorted in reluctance, her hoofbeats on the ground propelling a coat of dust above her pelage, then it moved forward, down the sloppy path, now with the serenity of a young royal horse. The change of heart of the mare had Davir nodding in satisfaction.

He arrived at the Port as the ruddy sky of dusk was giving place to the dark stretching from the east like a blanket thin on the edges. Much like the path leading to the location, the district was an isolated area, aside from the ship and the crowd waiting near the waterline. A few dozen people gathered around the ship, forming a small crowd along the firelit port. Davir walked up to the entrance of the ship when embarking began.

Passengers paid before they embarked. A young woman stood at the entrance of the ship, gathering the passenger's money before they entered. A menacing frown played on her face. Like a small beast doing all she could to threaten anyone before it fell prey to bigger ones.

The crowd recognized the green uniform of the capital city. Immediately and opened a path to Davir that led straight to the embarking checker. She budged to the side and adopted a meeker look. Had she moved another pace, she would end up inside the water. "We have criminals among us, Sir?" She bowed her golden head.

"We will discover," Davir said. He turned to the passengers. "Keep coming."

The passengers walked along a path of wood that linked land and ship. Each threw five silver Ceric inside the sack the young woman was carrying.

Most did not dare to look him in the eyes. And those who did were quick to turn away, heading straight into the boat for a life across the continent.

Davir had known the woman could have used a disguise. But Davir couldn't miss her smell: icy and choking — the same as the body he'd found in the forest.

When the last passenger approached the entry of the ship with trembling legs, Davir knew the woman and her companion had not been there. They had not left Ceres yet. The thought brought a sly smile to Davir's mouth.

The next ship would sail to the north at the end of the season. If his blade had not found the woman's neck after that time had passed, it would be there that day. Sharp and waiting for her. For truth and revenge.

The trot back to the domain was smoother. With the sundown, the mare was harder to tire and for a moment it appeared she was apprehensive of the darkness. When they entered the seventh borough of the city, it was morning. The flame lights that illuminate the roads at night were being put out by passers-by. To avoid eye torture, Davir took the alleys, that remained dark and peaceful, causing Yena's crankiness to surface as she struggled through the narrow paths that led to the nearest public stalls.

It was easier to trace back his way through the alleyways to get to the fifth edifice of the borrow.

He felt a presence in his chamber as soon as he opened the door. The room was dim, and from the entry, he could only distinguish everything directly in front of him and the bed beside the wall at the back of the chamber. Davir seized the tip of his quarterstaff.

He walked up to the end of the corridor and when he saw the man there, sitting near the window, he sheathed his staff slowly.

Sir Salmior lit a candle and stood. "Soldier Davir."

Davir did his best not to wince. "With all respect, Sir. You shouldn't enter my chambers in my absence, especially not without my permission."

Sir Salmior yawned. "I understand. However, I have been forced to do so by my duties as the instructor of the heir to the Monarchy. If it worries you, let me assure you I don't own the keys to these chambers. The landlord was kind enough to allow me in, so I could wait here for you. The matter is urgent. You understand, soldier, the heir has duties that should come before their inclinations or whims or any urges of the youth. As a soldier, I believe you are capable of understanding some of it. I will be honest with you, Davir. I know Heron better than anyone. He has fixations on things sometimes and can become quite obsessive if he's kept unchecked."

"I haven't heard from him since the day I left the royal domain," Davir said. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Let me finish, will you?"

Davir frowned. He'd rather Sir Salmior left him alone.

"What I am trying to say is that the heir is married now. This time said obsession could be you. I ignore why exactly. In fact, I prefer not to know why. However, I must assure myself there will be a Monarch to this nation in the years to come. This is ultimately the reason why I thought it would be best to remove you from the royal guard. I know the financial strain it represents for you so I—" He reached inside his pocket and extracted a pouch.

"Sir, there's no need," Davir said.

"Thirty silver Ceric." Salmior placed the pouch above the table. "I believe it's fair. Your salary has suddenly been reduced to its third. I am grateful you have collaborated, Davir but," he reached inside his pocket again and extracted two letters, still sealed. "These are from him. To you."

A silence ensued. Davir had waited for a letter for ten days. He knew the letter had information or at the very least a clue about who he was, what Heron wasn't able to articulate the day he left the domain. He ached to read them, and at the same time felt vulnerable knowing Master Salmior had that information in his hand. "What do they say?" Davir asked.

"I ignore what they say. They were not meant for me to read," Salmior said. "I intercepted them before they were sent from the royal domain. We have two options: I read the letters out loud and we think of a solution to whatever problem is being mentioned in them. Or I burn them and we never speak about it?"

The seal of the letters remained intact but nothing guaranteed Sir Salmior hadn't actually read them. Perhaps he knew about Davir's links to the supernatural. Had Brigadier Kerm reported what he knew to the clergyman? "I could keep the letters. As they are intended for me."

"You know well that's not an option."

"Then, burn them and we never speak of it," Davir said with a lump in his throat.

Sir Salmior appeared surprised but he pushed one window open, stretched his arm to reach the flame of the candle, and let them consume the letters to ashes. Davir felt as though he was burning as well.

"If it's all you had to tell me, you must leave now."

"It's all, but if you allow me, I have one final request. I would like you to write one last letter to the heir telling him to never write again."

"You could well tell him to never write again. As his Master, you are responsible for his education. As for me, we'll let my silence to his letters speak for itself. You have covered that as well, I believe, Sir. Now leave!"

"I believe you should be more careful with your words, Davir dear."

"Leave my chambers now, you old rat."

Sir Salmior studied him, his face didn't denounce his rage but it was written in his eyes. He walked towards Davir and patted his shoulders. "Be careful, for your own good," he said, his grey eyes unblinking, turned to the hallway, and left the chambers.