Three and a half months after all the preparations had been nailed down, a battered clockwork bird clattered against the kitchen window. Dirva and Nisa sat in the other room; he was reading a book I’d pilfered from the Library, and she was drawing schematics for something that made no sense to me. I, as luck would have it, happened to be in the kitchen. The bird landed heavily on the windowsill. It skidded off the ledge and reappeared a few seconds later. It ruffled its copper feathers. Its sightless ball-bearing eyes blinked. It tapped the windowpane with its beak. When I let it in, it hopped into my hand. It was docile. Its mainspring had little tension left; it had made a long journey on a single winding. “Dirva!”

“Yes?”

“Dirva, a bird came!”

He was around the corner in a heartbeat. He took it from me, cradling it gently as if it were a bird of flesh and bone. The pressure panel, which made up the bird’s belly popped open with just a little coaxing. The mechanical life went out of the creature, and Dirva fished out the note. “He left about a month ago,” Dirva said. “He’ll be here in two weeks.” He laughed; a bright smile spread across his face. “Ha! Two weeks. Nisa, two weeks!”

I was happy for him, I was, but the news filled me with dread. Two weeks and my life would be uprooted.

Nisa came into the kitchen. The air in the room was thick with happiness. Her laughter and his anticipation drowned out my own feelings. Dirva pulled her into a tight embrace. She clung to him, her head in the crook of his neck. They stayed like that for a handful of seconds, and then she remembered that I was there. She pulled away, laughing, unable to look me in the eye. “I’ll tell my parents,” she said. “I’ll tell the landlord.”

When Nisa left an hour or so later, my confused feelings crept back up. I hated that I felt that way. I couldn’t think of a time I’d seen Dirva so happy or so hopeful. I didn’t understand it, where all this happiness and hopefulness came from, but it was there, and I couldn’t stand to dilute it with my own worries. I slipped out of the apartment, and I stayed at Parvi’s shop until the approach of curfew.

Dirva was waiting for me when I returned. He sat at the kitchen table trying to bring the messenger bird back to life.

“You need a key to wind it,” I said.

“I know that, Ariah,” he said, irritated. I smiled in spite of myself. “I am trying to determine what size key I need to wind it.” He set the bird down. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

“Oh, no, that’s all right. I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”