Raz wandered down a tree-lined street on the Fentray Mesa, shadowy leaves whispering above him as he wrestled with what he had done. The occasional group of university students passed him as he walked, laughing and chatting on their way to some entertainment, but he ignored them. He had never been very interested in Orleykayn University, and the possibility of attending was now further away than ever. Much more important to him was the result of his visit to the gang. It didn’t feel good that Avvin would be getting away with betraying him. He felt the same way about Suffiya, but he knew he didn’t have a choice there. Not a sane one, at least, so he could deal with it. But with Avvin he had. A choice to get even, without lifting a hand. Yet, somehow, he’d gone past letting things slide to keeping Avvin alive. Had in fact thrown away significant money to make it happen.

So much money. He’d spent quite a bit of it that day. And more was coming. Making good on the stuff he’d stolen was going to hurt. It wouldn’t break him, but he’d be skipping any big purchases for a while.

He shook his head and sighed. Stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at the sky. The stars sparkled in their multitudes, a river of them running through the black night overhead. The broken Moon smiled at him from high in the Southeast and he stared at it, tracing the cracks in its surface. The Light in the Dark, the Watcher in the Night, the Murderer’s Witness. He knew hundreds of names for it from all the poetry he’d been forced to read. Takara was fascinated with the Moon. As was his employer.

What was it going to be like working for Vennir?

The Patron of Wit had a reputation for being eccentric, and so far Raz couldn’t disagree with that rumor. Had the great cat really been looking for a battledancer to add to his collection like he was some old woman filling a cabinet with glass figurines?

It fit with what Raz had heard, though it didn’t make sense in his head.

At least Vennir had been fairly polite, so far. Raz knew plenty of merchants who would have shaken him a lot harder if they’d had him over the barrel Vennir did. There were worse things than getting conscripted into the dusk knights.

What would he be doing with them?

Most of the stories he’d heard had them doing things like contract enforcement and goods repossession. Private investigation. Some guard work on Venniran scientific expeditions and escort work for disciples in dire need. Boring stuff.

Though some of the stories of them stealing things back for the rightful owners did sound quite exciting.

It was probably better than what he’d been doing. It would look good for the family at least. Vennir probably wouldn’t share the details of why Raz had made the contract, which meant most people would assume it was for levels. Boring or no, the dusk knights were prestigious, and him being one of them was something his family could boast of.

He touched the memory of Nissaya screaming at him for a moment and cringed. The more time he had alone with his thoughts, the more his mind added to the possible disaster she had pointed out to him.

Ruin.

It would have been ruin.

A carriage clattered past him, the wide feet of the ox-sized terreg lizards pulling it adding a low thudding rhythm to its progress. He looked down from the sky and took in the greenery surrounding him. The grounds around Orleykayn University were half-wooded and mostly open, a rarity in a city where space was at more of a premium every year. Raz could only think of two other areas with more greenspace than Orleykayn, and both were dedicated parks in the core district. Even the royal palace didn’t have more greenery.

And unlike the Royal Palace, the greenery around Orlekayn was in constant use. People lay out on blankets where streetlamps shed circles of yellow along the paths through the grounds, enjoying the warm evening air and each other’s company. Someone was playing a harp in one of the groups, and another was accompanying it with a tambourine.

A dubious choice, but it was working.

Raz skipped to the rhythm and did a step into a spin, completing it with a smooth swirl into another skip and turn, landing with his facing reversed. He took several backward steps, still in time, snapping his fingers to the rhythm, and stopped, looking at the moon again.

Could he be this person again?

Could he even go back to a time when dancing was beautiful to him?

He stared at the broken smile above him and wondered at the words of his employer.

How could he ever take up the weight of his mother’s mantle?

A breeze stirred the leaves, bringing a loud susurrus that filled in around the harp and the tambourine. It was a moment, and he stood in it, as the trees creaked and a night-budgie burbled its liquid song from somewhere in the branches. Old memories whispered up, swirling with silk and moving with sinuous steps. Raz whispered a half-remembered poem and it fell amidst the other sounds of the night as if it belonged there.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Come out, come out, and dance in the night, the joy of the chase, the joy of the fright. Tippletoes tap as we turn all aright, singing our songs and shouting our might. Come dance with the cats, as we dance in delight, and the shadows all hide from the cracked moon’s light.”

Somewhere within him the fingers of his heart clasped around a single gold coin, and his being shivered. He was Razavan Issistran, a true son of Takara and only child of Mira Sefrivayni, Lady of the Summer Wind. He had escaped death that day by the barest margin and he would dance in the night.

He tapped his feet to the rhythm of the tambourine again as the harp wove its melody up and down and closed his eyes, imagining the moves that would go well with the tune. It had been a long time, but he had all of his mother’s skill boosts now, and his body told him it remembered. He was about to break out in a routine when he thought of something else Vennir had mentioned. The old cat was right. He was hiding from something very important.

He reached into his system and felt for a particular enhancement that he had ignored since he received the legacy. With a grimace he found that Vennir had charged it with arete up to his current level. He was not used to other people controlling his life.

He activated the enhancement anyway and called its inhabitant out. A presence that had been sleeping in the back of his mind woke up and he felt emotions and thoughts unfold just beyond his understanding. With a soft pop a ringtail the size of a large housecat appeared on the pavement in front of him. The small creature, like a slender, better looking raccoon, immediately stood up on his hind legs and gave a graceful bow.

“Master Razavan,” he said in a smooth tenor, “I rejoice that this day has finally come.”

Raz winced with guilt at the implications of that simple greeting: Niv knew how long he had been locked up. Raz had heard that familiars had some awareness of what went on with their owners when they were put away, but he had never really looked into it.

“Niv, I…” Raz felt his tail droop as he looked down at the small creature, its large ears tilted up to listen to him even as it held the bow. “I’m sorry. I should’ve brought you out sooner.”

Niv straightened up and looked at him with eyes so brown they were almost black.

“It has been no hardship for me, Master Razavan,” he said. “I have spent the time in dreams of your lady mother, of dance, and of you. I have seen you often running upon the streets of Takara and creeping in secret places. You have grown much since I last saw you. Have you seen much danger, or was that my imagination?”

Raz choked a little and took a deep breath.

“I’ve gotten into a bit of trouble in the past few years.”

The ringtail flicked his ears twice and studied Raz quietly. It was hard to tell with how dark his eyes were, but Raz thought the small creature noted the cuts in Raz’s clothing. Raz had forgotten how perceptive the familiar was.

“Am I here to help keep you out of trouble, or to see you through it?”

Raz opened his mouth, then closed it. Shifted on his feet.

“I think… if you can help me dance again, that would be good.”

The ringtail straightened up a little more and opened his mouth in his version of a smile. “That would be a joy, Master Razavan.”

<00>

Perhaps half-an-hour later Raz walked up the front stairs of Vennir’s tower, Niv scampering at his heels. Raz had explained what his day had been like while the little creature listened, offering few comments. Sometimes he had remarked on changes to the city as they passed places that had been different five years before. Mostly he had listened.

As Raz opened the center pair of doors into the lobby he noted that most of the people had left, though a few remained in the waiting area. He had heard that there were always a few wits available at the larger offices of Vennir, whatever the time of day. Plenty of the people Vennir looked after certainly did most of their business after the sun had set.

The receptionists had changed out, and there were only two now. The one on the right, a young Leonar with fetching red-gold hair flowing down past her shoulders, looked up as he approached and smiled at him. It was the polite smile of receptionists everywhere, but it turned warmer when he gave his name.

“Ah! Mister Ississtran!” She said. “Welcome back. I have a key right here for you. Your room is on the tenth floor, room ten-ninety-two.”

She held out a large silvery key with the cut teeth indicating it went to a good tumbler lock. As he took it he felt the faint tingle of enchantment on it and wondered what effects were hidden within the dense weave he saw hidden in the metal.

As he flipped the cool heavy key over in his hand he heard the young woman clear her throat. He looked up and met her gaze again.

“Also, your father was here,” she said.

Raz blinked.

“He asked if you were here, but we figured you were still out as you hadn’t claimed your key. He said he will be at Kivinrai’s whenever you are available.”

Oh.

Huh.

He looked at the reception desk to see if they had one of the wind up timepieces that the gnomes were always peddling. Almost no one displayed them openly, but businesses usually had one. He spotted a familiar brass casing and the woman followed his look.

“It’s ten-thirty,” She said.

That was later than he’d thought.

Kivinrai’s was open all night. Its clientele were the kind one did not dissapoint.

Surely his father wouldn’t still be there.

Whenever he was available.

He hadn’t spoken with his father in months.

“I think it will be a few more hours until you get to your bed,” Niv said.

“Yeah. I’m getting that.”

Raz sighed and headed back out.