"How late can this friend of yours be?" Amyra asked, scanning Bjon, who remained completely indifferent to her question. He grabbed a handful of roasted peanuts from his bawl and threw it in his mouth and chewed audibly, his mouth half-open. "He was supposed to be here yesterday," Amyra said.

They had gone over their plan to find the edifice where children like Una were kept a dozen times now: because Amyra was wanted a Bjon wasn't brave enough to show face, she would enter the first borough through the sewers. Already had her

weapons and devices of Opace to keep Gulgra enemies away- daggers, vests, trousers and even a headpiece.

While they waited for Bjon's informant who was meant to guide her to Una, she had prepared seven additional bombs of Flogos. Completely useless weight, according to Bjon, but Amyra needed to busy herself one way or another. She had depleted most of the will and strength she had in her. She feared if the ultimate solution to find Una didn't come fast enough, she wouldn't have the resources to bring it about any more.

"Perhaps we could contact someone more reliable," she huffed.

Bjon looked at her as if she was his ten-year-old daughter and his judgmental stare was meant to deter her from misbehaving. "You haven't gotten it, have you?" he sneered. "My informant is the only one who can help us get to the academy. If he never shows up, my way to my wife will be the new Monarch."

The coldness of his tone sent a chill through Amyra's back. She knew that if it was revealed useful to Bjon, he would, too, deliver Amyra to Mistress Anya. It shouldn't bother her as she had once been ready to do the same to save her sister. But it disturbed her profoundly, still. It felt as if she was watching herself now. But not recognizing herself at the same time. She wondered how it was possible. To readily see evil for what it was as long as it wasn't brought about by one's own hands.

"The Mistress will always ask more from you," she said. "Leave Heron alone." It wasn't the first time Amyra had said those exact words, and as usual, Bjon smirked with disdain.

"If you are willing for forgiveness, the nearest temple isn't far from here. I'm afraid I only appear like a god. I am not one."

"I have done that. Multiple times. And will continue to."

"One would think asking for forgiveness once is enough."

"That is what I would have thought as well. And why I warn you."

Bjon pinned his elbows on the table stared away from Amyra and ran his tongue along his front teeth, the skin under his nose bulging. He was annoyed with her again. She hated moments like this. She knew she wasn't among her own people in this tavern. Still, they sheltered her and fed her like one of them. Not because of sympathy, as even Sheyla still scanned her up and down before serving her food. It was because she had become Bjon's recruit.

Amyra had come to realize Bjon wasn't the leader she had imagined him to be, but along with many others, he occupied a position of authority. But as long as Bjon protected her, these people would treat her with respect. It was in her interest to keep her relationship with Bjon as peaceful as possible. Even the slightest hostility on Bjon's part could turn the whole gathering against her. She wouldn't return to the streets again. She had to remain there until she found Una. But how to appease him now?

"My aunt is still in Anuteh. I believe the mission to the academy will be a success." She could sense Bjon's surprise with her fabricated optimism. But what she said wasn't far from the truth. Amyra needed to be certain the mission would be successful, because, unlike him, she had no other alternative. "Last time I wrote her a letter, I was still living in the royal domain. I am not sure the letter even was delivered. Still, I'm sure I'm never reading the response to it. As we wait for your informant, I would like to go to the nearest pigeon tamer and send my aunt a letter. To tell her we will soon be back home."

"And that's how you will jeopardize us all. Your letter will be tracked to the sender."

"We can go to a pigeon tamer that's far from here. I don't mind. But I need to send a letter, please, grant me this." Amyra refused to think about the implications of her words for her aunt in Anuteh, or for when she would receive a response. If the letter was tracked, the guard would be waiting for her. Knowing where to find her when the response came. "I don't mind it." She realized she was responding to her own interrogations.

Bjon seemed to size her up for a moment. "Sheyla, dear, please," he called. And the woman at the counter sauntered toward them.

"She's hungry again, already?" she asked Bjon, hands on her hips. Then she turned to Amyra. "Dear, you know I'm just being funny, alright? I mean no harm."

Amyra nodded with reluctance.

"We will be leaving for a while. Will you, please, cut her hair off and lend her proper clothes? The cloak would attract too much unnecessary suspicion."

Sheyla deposited a hand lazily on Bjon's shoulders, sliding down his chest. "Bjon dear, you know well, fashion is my specialty." Amyra found that difficult to believe given the garish dress of a peasant she was wearing. "I'll take it from here."

"I'll be down with the others in the underground," Bjon said.

Sheyla waited until Bjon was out of sight to finally speak. "Bjon told me about you." Amyra refrained from asking what exactly she was aware of. "Brave girl, with a fierce love for her sister. I had a sister, too. She was my best friend and I know I would have traversed the Anuti desert and see to be with her again. I respect you, alright? If Bjon trusts you, we all here do as well. Now stop looking at me like a spirit of death and chaos every time I'm in the room. Come on."

Amyra was sure the opposite of what Sheyla was saying was true. Still, she stood followed behind Sheyla beyond the counter and inside the walls that separated it from the room Amyra had always assumed was the kitchen.

Past the stacks of grains illuminated by crystal dust lanterns, the belongings of a woman who valued her appearance revealed: dresses of all sorts handing on pelmets near a vast bed. Lotions and perfumes. There was even a tub, where Sheyla directed Amyra. Once inside the tub, Sheyla did her work, cutting the remainder of Amyra's long nurse braids. And she dressed Amyra as she would a boy.

Sheyla caressed her chin when Amyra stood in front of a mirror, admiring how the brown trousers and white tunic combined with the short hair made her appear like a stable boy. "I knew there was a beautiful girl in you." Sheyla's gaze seemed to be eating Amyra alive at the spot.

"Perhaps I should go meet, Bjon now."

"Of course," Sheyla said. "You know the way. I will be on the lookout for the informant you and Bjon are waiting for."

Amyra rushed outside the room. Thankfully, Bjon had already been waiting for her outside the room.

Bjon led the way to the nearest stables, then to a pigeon tamer in the fifth borough. He halted his horse next to the entry and Amyra dismounted and walked to the window where the pigeon tamer stared outside the road.

"I wish to send a letter to Anuteh, district of Goan."

The pigeon tamer didn't respond to Amyra, she breathed a whiff reeking of strong alcohol into her face and turned around and called, "Yuniar, we still have stamps for Goan?" An unenthusiastic response sounded from inside the booth. But it was affirmative. The woman came turned to Amyra again.

"How long will delivery take?"

"Depends on what you can pay. The most we can do is the beginning of Drought. That would be six silver Ceric."

It felt as though she had been slapped. "What are the other options?"

"For three silver, your letter will be delivered mid-Drought."

"I-" Amyra shook her head. "I cannot afford it. I have two silver Cerics."

"Then you should leave."

"Please. I haven't seen my family for years. This is important to me."

"Not to me. Goodbye, my lady."

"I'm begging."

"You're keeping me from my other clients."

Amyra peered around the empty street. "No one's here."

"Who would be? There's a rabid dog spewing drool over my counter."

Before Amyra's hand shot out to slap the woman, who hadn't even flinched, Bjon gripped her arm. Seven silver Ceric chinked on the counter. "One additional Ceric for a full refund in case the letter is not delivered," he said.

The woman eyed Amyra with disgust, her eyes turned to the coins of silver. "Alright."

As the woman gathered the money, Amyra retrieved ink and paper from the counter and wrote:

Dearest aunt,

Una and I are together, finally. Ancients have answered our prayers. I have been working as a nurse in the prestigious first and second boroughs of the capital city, gathering money to return to you. You were right about their mannerisms. But I have made many good friends here in the capital. This Drought won't pass before we see each other again.

Sender: Public Pigeon Tamer, Booth 245— C-D.2nd-B.5th/245 (Ceres, 2nd borough,)

Receiver: A-V.G.2nd-D.9th/53—(Anuteh, Village of Goan)

As soon as Amyra finished writing, the gamer snatched the letter from her hand. She took it to the man sorting papers in the back of the room. All the while, Bjon glared down at Amyra. "Be here at the beginning of Drought for a return." Then she mechanically recited the words, "Ancients bless you for trusting our services." She even attempted a smile that miserably failed her.

Bjon dragged Amyra away from the window. "You're hurting me, Bjon."

"You are mad, aren't you?" he lashed out. "You're wanted by the guard. You put yourself in trouble and it's over. For and for your sister." For himself, too. But Bjon wouldn't say that out loud.

"Ancients pay you for paying for the letter." Amyra wasn't daft. She knew what she was doing was dangerous. But she hadn't been able to help her anger from taking control. Ancients, she needed to get to Una fast. Else, she was certain her recklessness would send her to prison. She had controlled herself for two years. She couldn't do it anymore. A tear trickled down her left eye.

Bjon let go. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to-" he said. "I understand how hard it is for you. Hopefully, we will hear from your aunt beginning of this Drought. Just be careful. We are all in this together."

Strangely being comforted made Amyra's tears stream more profusely. Bjon hugged her and didn't let go until Amyra's sobs subsided.

• • •

When they returned to the gathering, a boy with fiery hair, clad in what seemed like a cheap imitation of the blue guard's uniform stood in front of the door. He seemed like a strange blend between the southern and the northern, with skin with the characteristic darkness of the capital's people. Bjon walked up to him, Amyra trailing behind, still feeling the imprint of her tear trails.

Bjon sat by the boy's side. "You're a day late." Amyra understood immediately who he was. The informant. She had imagined him older, more competent-looking. "You could have entered."

"The last time I did it, people were handling Opace."

"Well it's clean now," Bjon said. "We cannot stay here." As Bjon unlocked the door, the boy studied Amyra.

"Amyra yma da," she said.

He nodded. "Wyl." He entered the tavern, already addressing Bjon. "I ran into some issues," he said. "This is why I'm late. I met the heir of the Monarchy, as you asked."

"Heron?" Amyra asked.

Bjon turned around, frowning. Amyra's hand shot to her mouth. She knew she had made a mistake. But it was Wyl who Bjon addressed, "Then why didn't you bring him to me?" Still, he flashed a harsh stare at Amyra, as a warning for her to remain silent.

Wyl shrugged. He didn't seem afraid of Bjon to the least. "I hadn't asked myself why you had such an interest in him before. Or whom you are working for. If you are. Who is it?"

"That doesn't concern you. I gave you a job to execute. You do as I ask. I pay you."

"Right. Then you shouldn't count on my help, you."

"I'll double your payment."

Wyl chuckled. "You don't understand. You might as well triple it, you. I won't be carrying out your dirty deeds. I'm cleaning my hands off it. It's not through me that you'll get to the heir. In fact, I can I'll even keep you from getting your dirty hands on him."

"You slept with him?"

"I wish I had."

"Unbelievable. That's how much your words are worth?"

"Bjon, Eleh, you are an opportunistic warm serving in the royal domain, scheming to take out the people you serve by using others. Because you cannot handle the danger. You're a coward, you. So, don't try to act like integrity is your strong suit."

Amyra had to exert control over herself to avoid the smile that threatened to surface on her lips. Bjon remained silent.

"Be transparent for once," Wyl stated. "And I'll see what I can do. You need me. To get to the heir. To show you where the academy is. I have the upper hand."

Amyra spoke. "Anya Dalyr's." Amyra was trembling as Bjon scanned her, furious. "He's working under the orders of Anya Dalyr's. I need to know where is this academy, Bjon. I need to find my sister. This is not a game for me."

Bjon turned to Wyl. "There you have."

"It's what I thought. You're willingly tangling yourselves into a spiderweb, you. That woman destroys everything that stands between her and what she wants. Don't be fooled because you are on her good side now. She will ultimately crush you." The disgust on his face reminded Amyra of her broken bones, and her struggles with the pain in the forest. "I was never planning to bring Heron to you. Keep your money. If you are willing to meet her, then I'll show you where the academy is. But I'm tripling the price for it. Thirty silvers."

"Don't be ridiculous, Wylmon. We have agreed on ten cursed silver. That you will back off from your promises, you decide. But your behavior is unacceptable."

"Then we don't have a deal." Wyl shrugged.

It seemed he was ready to leave. Amyra's hand shot to grab him. "I have seen the evil that is that woman," she said. "I understand. And had been fooled into working for her in the past. She had asked me the same: to bring the heir to her. Fortunately, I failed in doing that. But I suffered the consequences. Still, I regret it every day. I did it all for my sister. She is like you. She has special talents and she has been taken from us two years ago. This is the only opportunity I have to get to the academy. I know this is my only chance. Please help me."

Wyl scanned her hands. Amyra let go, pleading to the Ancients she had made him understand. "I was one of her students," he said. "Before the students are brought to the academy, their memories are erased."

Amyra flinched. "How?"

Wyl shrugged. "It's not my specialty. I don't understand the mechanics of it."

"This means-" Amyra didn't want to say it.

"Your sister won't know who you are even if you can get to her."

Amyra refused to believe it. If Una saw her, she knew she would know she was Amyra. Her older sister. "Still, I want to get to her."

"If you enter that academy, you'll never be able to leave it, you. The weakest of them could cut you in half in one strike."

"We have Opace weaponry," she said. "Gulgrarii cannot be near it."

"That alone won't save you."

"I'm willing to take the risk."

Bjon spoke. "I know people in the northern borders. I can intercede for you to help you finally leave Ceres. I can offer you that. Plus, forty silvers for you to come with us to the academy."

Amyra sensed Wyl's confidence dwindle. "If you are willing to charge yourselves with Opace, I am not welcome."

"That is a question for me to work out if you give me a definitive answer. I will be back with the maps of the first borough for you to help us locate the academy. I want a definitive answer once I am back. Either you take ten silver and show us the location of the academy or forty and the possibility to escape Ceres but then you come with us to the academy."