They reached Kirmouth in the early afternoon of the fifth day out from Taerside. The city’s walls were almost white in the midday sun, looming behind the cluster of stalls that lined the road leading up to the gates. Carts, carriages, riders and walkers passed both ways along the highway, which was well-maintained this close to the city. The walls extended to either side, shrinking with distance as they encircled the city itself. The river for which it was named lay on the other side of the city, far enough away that it was invisible from the Taerside road.

Behind the stalls lining the road, the ground was covered with caravans, tents and carts, and horses and donkeys grazed what grass was left a little further out. The stalls themselves sold a huge variety of things, from vegetables to jewellery and tools to children’s toys. Kite couldn’t tell whether the stallholders were from Kirmouth or elsewhere, but she saw plenty of people going to and from the city gates for shopping. The market outside the city gates was clearly popular with the residents.

“Leave it!”

She turned to see Saryth hauling Jig away from a stall with lovely embroidered leatherwork. The thief was looking mournfully empty-handed, and Kite couldn’t hide a chuckle. Saryth was being very attentive - he’d already pulled her away from a cart festooned with handy knives and a stall selling jewellery. Now he gave her a grumpy glare.

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re just like a brother and sister... A three-year-old sister.”

That caught Jig’s attention.

“Hey! I’m thirteen!”

“Then stop behaving like a child,” Kite snapped. She could hardly blame Saryth for getting irritated. Now he was the one laughing.

“If that’s what a sister is like, I’m glad I didn’t have one,” he said. Then he stuck his tongue out at Jig. Yep, just like siblings.

“You were an only child?” Kite asked.

“I think so. I don’t remember any family.”

“Were you born at the Duke’s castle, then?” Kite hadn’t wanted to pry into his history, but if he was willing to talk, she wanted to know. Jig was also listening, behind a pretend sulk.

“No, the first person I remember is an old woman. She travelled around from town to town with a tatty old cart. She sold me to the Duke one summer.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know. Five, maybe.”

Kite looked aside. His matter-of-fact description was somehow more disturbing than if he’d been upset.

“Hoy!” She jumped. Saryth was bodily hauling Jig back from a stall selling shawls. “I know what you were doing!”

“I didn’t do anything!” she protested. “Truth!”

“Sweet reason,” Kite muttered to herself, “how much further?”

By the time they reached the gate Jig was refusing to speak to either of them, which suited Saryth just fine. The wall was dauntingly thick, towering above the large gateway, which was unguarded. He stared up as the flow of people carried them through and into Kirmouth proper. Crowded streets swarmed with people and the ubiquitous small carts pulled by donkeys. The buildings were made of pale grey stone with dark tiled roofs, and here and there a bridge connected buildings across the side streets. It was flatter than Taerside, a welcome relief to tired legs, but small crooked staircases abounded, leading to first floor balconies or upper apartments, or just to a different route around the city. It looked like a confusing place to find your way around, but Kite walked as confidently as she always did, and Saryth and Jig followed her, weaving through the streets and turning occasionally until Saryth was completely lost.

“Where are we going?” he asked eventually. For all that it felt smaller and more cramped than Taerside, there was a lot of city inside Kirmouth’s walls.

“Here, I hope,” Kite said, stopping at a small door set in a semi-circular tower which backed onto a long tenement. She knocked, and it was opened by an older man with greying beard and hair. He smiled at them without recognition.

“Hello. How may I help you?”

“I travel in search of that which is lost,” Kite said, with an odd, formal turn of phrase. The man nodded thoughtfully.

“And I live in hope of its being found,” he said, equally formally, then, “come in, come in! It’s good to see you!”

He beckoned them into a small hall with a tiled floor. A hanging curtain to the right and a spiral staircase leading upwards suggested more living space than had been apparent from the outside.

“Are all of you -”

“No, just me,” Kite said quickly. “I’m Kite, this is Saryth and this is Jig.”

“Call me Pyetr. Are you hungry? It’s just about lunchtime.”

The hanging curtain divided the hall from a small dining room, and after shedding cloaks and footwear, and making quick ablutions, the party sat down to lunch. It wasn’t obvious whether Pyetr had expected visitors, always expected visitors, or was quick about arranging food, but there was plenty to eat. Jig set about stuffing her face, as she had done at every meal since joining them on the road. Saryth helped himself to bread and cheese, and small tart tomatoes, and tried to eat more tidily. Pyetr waited until they had mostly finished eating before asking questions.

“So, where have you been so far?” That was directed at Kite.

“Agaria, Corwaith, the Barren Hills, Westleshire, Irshand and Taerside.”

“And you two?” He turned his attention to Saryth and Jig. “Where do you come from?”

“Corwaith.”

“Gmfaersighmf,” said Jig through a full mouth. Exasperated at her manners, Saryth elbowed her in the ribs, but that just made her choke. She frantically grabbed for her water glass. Kite winced, and Pyetr looked tolerantly amused.

“Taerside,” Jig managed eventually, flushing. She put her hands in her lap, her plate empty. Saryth finished his mouthful and did the same. Pyetr stood up.

“If you’ve had enough to eat, I wonder if you would be so kind as to lend me a hand clearing up, Kite?”

“Of course,” Kite said, at the same time as Saryth and Jig both spoke up.

“I’ll help!”

He glanced sideways at Jig, frowning, and she glared back.

“That’s very kind of you, Saryth, Jig, but we’ll be fine. Why don’t you take a look around Kirmouth, if you’ve never been here before?”

“Thank you,” Saryth said, uncertain. Wandering around a strange city didn’t sound very attractive.

“That was odd,” he said once they were outside again and walking down the street. Jig seemed to know where she wanted to go, so he let her lead, keeping a mental log of their turns so he could find his way back.

“Not really,” she said. “They want to talk about stuff and they don’t want us around.”

Saryth checked and stared at her. That made sense. Why didn’t I see that? But what could they be talking about? The worry that niggled at him since Kite’s casual mention of leaving this world after Kirmouth rose up again. He crossed his arms as though that could keep it all in.

“Hey...” Jig glanced sideways at him and grinned. “You’re going white at the roots, Mister not-a-sorcerer.” Quick as a flash, she yanked his hair hard enough to pull his head sideways.

“Ow! Hey!” He swiped at her and missed as she danced away then started running. Saryth gave chase, hurtling down the street, dodging people and carts, following the road until they ran out onto a wide quay with the sea blue and grey stretching out before them, seething with boats of all sizes and topped by the shriek and swoop of seagulls. Saryth panted to a stop and bent over to catch his breath.

“You’re out of shape,” Jig said disapprovingly. She wasn’t even breathing hard. “Maybe you’re getting old and that’s why your hair’s going white.”

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Saryth tried to glare but gave up. There was a convenient post behind and he perched on it and stared out at the sea. Jig sat down, unbothered by the state of the paving stones. A long, low boat with a single tall mast was tied up at the quay in front of them, and barrels and carts stood next to it. Being loaded or unloaded? It seemed like a lot of cargo for a comparatively small boat. A couple of men stood watch nearby, looking bored. Further out a ship stretched white sails to catch the wind like a mirror of the gulls soaring above. Gusts of wind skipped over the sea making little black ruffles topped with white foam, and waves slapped against the moored boat. The rattle of lines against masts made an almost musical chiming.

“Did you ever see anything like it?” There was a kind of eager longing in Jig’s voice that he’d never heard before.

“No, never.”

“That’s what I want.”

“Sorry?”

“That.” She was staring intently at the sea.

“A ship?”

“Yes. S’why I wanted to come with you from Taerside.” She stood up, stretched her arms wide and whirled round. “Come back in five years and I’ll be captain and owner of a ship five times finer than the finest here today!”

“You aren’t going on with us?” The words came out before he thought about them.

“Nope. This’s what I want to do. ‘Sides, Kite doesn’t want us along any more.” She looked knowingly down at him while he tried to breathe around what felt like a kick in the stomach. “S’why we got thrown out. They want to talk shop.”

She was right. She was, and it had to be this way, but it hurt to think about. She stood next to him, oblivious to his own disquiet, and watched the sea, probably even now making plans. A plan, that was what he needed. A goal, something to aim for, and a way to get there. I haven’t thought about this at all. But then, had he ever? This was never something I had to think about before leaving Corwaith. And after that... I have been letting Kite do all the planning. Because it has been her journey, not mine. It was not a comforting realisation.

The ships came and went, the long boat by the quay was finally loaded and departed, and the sun began to sink towards the horizon. Saryth and Jig made their way back along streets now full of people heading for home after work, talking, laughing and frequently drinking. He held his decision lightly in his head, turning it over occasionally, seeing how it settled there. Not comfortable, quite, but not bad. It would do.

Pyetr fed them again that evening. He seemed quite happy with them all being there, even though Saryth and Jig were not part of... whatever it was that he and Kite were part of. Saryth ate quietly, trying not to think too hard about anything. The food was good, but it sat awkwardly in his stomach.

Too soon, the meal was over, and Kite stood up.

“I have to pack now if I’m to leave soon,” she said, and Pyetr nodded understanding. Saryth watched her go. Jig kept eating, but she tracked Kite’s movement and gave Saryth a funny shake of her head, as though to say I told you so. Saryth gritted his teeth and stood up, hands on the table for balance because the whole world felt unstable.

“Excuse me,” he said, and Pyetr smiled and nodded as though he knew what Saryth was going to do. Maybe he does. Maybe he knows what’s going to happen, too.

Saryth went up the spiral staircase and found himself in a narrow corridor with a rug covering worn floorboards. Several doors led off the corridor but only one was open, showing a large room with a thick rug, a bed, a desk and several enormous wardrobes against the far wall. Kite was rummaging in the left-hand wardrobe. He took a deep breath and laid out the words in his head, ready to be spoken.

“Kite?”

“Yes?” She turned, pulling a fur coat from the wardrobe. He swallowed, tried to sound natural.

“Will you tell me how to make the black hair dye?”

She sat down and put the fur coat on top of a large leather case, which already had several items packed inside it. Then she looked up.

“Yes, but... why?”

“I can’t live here with white hair.” She must know that. “Jig says the roots are starting to show.” He pointed, in case she’d missed the glints of white.

She folded the fur and tucked it into the case.

“Where will you go?”

“I’m going back to Taerside.” Saying it made it feel real, plausible. Even halfway attractive. “Thurron is a nice person. I could get on well with him. And he thinks I’m wearing a wig.”

Kite was silent for a moment. Her head was down, her fringe over her eyes so he couldn’t see her expression.

“What will you do?” she asked.

His legs were shaking and he couldn’t bear just standing there any more. The window behind Kite provided a place to lean and look out of, and the sight of the sky, rose-gold with the sunset, steadied him and reminded him of what Thurron had said.

“Thurron said he wanted to fly his own balloon. To explore. To ‘sail the endless sky’. It sounds... sounds good to me.”

He heard Kite get to her feet, but didn’t look round. It was hard enough to keep his voice steady, never mind his face. He let his hair hang forwards, an ever welcome protection from a curious gaze.

“If you come with me,” Kite said, “I’ll take you beyond those skies.”

He turned sharply, pushed his hair away. She was looking down, her whole posture oddly tense.

“I didn’t think you wanted...”

“I like having a travelling companion,” she said, and finally looked up. There was a mix of worry and hope in her expression, and all Saryth’s plans spun into nothing. He let them go without a second thought.

“Will you come?” she asked.

“Yes.”

They finished the packing together, choosing thick furs for each of them and packing them into the case. The straps strained to hold it closed, and Saryth hefted it with a groan.

“Ready?” Kite asked.

“You just wanted someone to carry this ludicrously oversized bag, didn’t you?” It was what he would have said a week ago in Taerside, joking about the journey with her. It was a sweet, easy rhythm to fall back into. It felt like coming home.

They descended the stairs, and Saryth gratefully put the bag down while he pulled on boots and cloak.

“Going already?” Jig asked from the curtain leading to the dining area.

“We’re better going in darkness,” Kite said. “No-one will see us leave.” She frowned at Jig. “What are you going to do?” Saryth blinked. Had she not thought about Jig at all?

“I’m going on a ship,” Jig declared proudly. Kite turned to Pyetr.

“Thank you very much for your hospitality.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll keep an eye out for Jig.”

“Thank you.”

Saryth hauled the bag back on his back and staggered. Jig giggled at him.

“You look like a tortoise.”

“I feel like one.”

“Here,” Pyetr said, “have some food packs.”

“Thank you.” Kite tucked the food away in her bags.

“Good luck in your searches,” Pyetr said. “Both of them.”

Kirmouth was just as full of people in twilight as it had been during the day, but now they were looking for food, drink, companionship and entertainment. The gates were still open, and Kite and Saryth walked out without comment, past the closed market stalls and the campsite just beyond, now buzzing with its own rowdy cheer.

“Where are we going?” Saryth asked as they left the road behind and turned onto a small path which led up the hill to the right.

“A few miles from here there’s a natural gateway,” Kite said.

“A gateway?”

“A place where leylines meet in more than one world.”

“Leylines?”

“Lines along which magic is abundant. If the configuration at a meeting point matches a configuration in another world, it’s easy to pass through.” The path entered a copse at the top of the hill.

“Will the sun have gone that way?”

“It’s more likely than any other. It will follow the path of least resistance.”

“It prefers that?” He was grasping at sparse straws of comprehension.

“Not prefers as such, since it’s not sentient,” Kite said. “But yes. Gateways between worlds are very hard to open if they’re not naturally aligned.” She stopped, turned and looked about her, frowning.

“I think...” She glanced around, then left the path and walked a little way through the trees. “Here. We’d better get changed now.” Perplexed, Saryth put the bag down. Kite dug into it and handed him a heavy overcoat and large trousers, both lined with fur, socks, a hat and a woollen long-sleeved tunic with ties. He watched as she put on the tunic over her own clothes, then tied so it was snug about her. Her normal boots went in the bag, and she pulled on two sets of socks and then the trousers, which had a loop at the bottom so they wouldn’t ride up, then a pair of heavy, fur-lined boots. Finally, she put on the overcoat and the hat, which had flaps that covered her ears, wrapped a scarf around her face and tucked the ends in. Saryth copied her, already overheating by the time he’d got his own scarf wound round his face.

“Why do we need all this?” he asked, his voice muffled by the layers.

“You’ll see. Are you all right with the bag?”

“Mmph,” Saryth said, wrestling with it. It was much lighter now, but he was so bundled up that it was hard to get it onto his back. Kite helped pull the straps over his shoulders and secured it as best she could.

“All right,” she said eventually. “Let’s go before we melt.”

“What do I do?” Saryth asked.

“Wait, and walk through.” She set her staff in front of her, grasped it firmly with one hand and made a set of complicated gestures with the other. Saryth nearly yelped with surprise at the draining, twisting feeling this evoked. It started small and grew, pulling at the world as though reality was being sucked down a hole like water down a drain, and the world gave way, folding somehow into an opening that was not an opening, a way to a here that wasn’t here. It felt profoundly other, both menace and opportunity.

Kite started forwards and Saryth gritted his teeth and followed her.