Two days after my thirty-fifth birthday, Dirva came to the squat house. Sorcha had not recovered from the loss of Nuri, but three months was enough time for him to begin breaking out of his shell. We had been out. He had dragged me to see some sets in the musicians’ district played by satyrs recently arrived in town. The entire musicians’ district in the City swarms these—word gets out, and the musicians flock. They take bets on the songs the satyr will play, and whether or not what they sing actually resembles language. I still found the satyrs deeply unsettling, but I went with him because he wanted me there. Dirva was in the squat house when we came through the door. He and Cadlah sat next to each other on the floor, each with a cup or red elvish tea in hand. When I saw him, I swear my heart stopped beating. I could not breathe. I felt at once a tremendous burst of happiness and a deep shock. I realized when I saw him there that I had fully believed I would never see him again. Sorcha saw the effect he had on me, and he took my hand.

Dirva was thin. His face when he looked up at me was gaunt: all cheekbones and hollow eyes. His beard was slightly unkempt, and his hair was longer than I’d ever seen it. The weeks had been rough for him, but he retained his steely dignity. He looked anything but frail. “Ariah, may I speak with you?”

Sorcha darted close. “You can tell him no.”

I couldn’t tell him no. I let go of Sorcha’s hand. “Of course, sir.”

Dirva stood and pointed to the door. Sorcha told me again I didn’t have to speak with him, but I tucked my chin into my chest and followed Dirva out the door. He walked us to the shadow of Sanctuary. The window was open, and I could hear the shouts of the prisoners and the prayers of the desperate. “I have only just realized what day it is,” he said. “Your training has ended.”

“It’s strange, the way things can end before they’ve finished,” I said. Sorcha had rubbed away a good deal of my meekness.

Dirva looked at me, surprised, somewhat amused. “Yes, it is strange the way that happens. Cadlah tells me you’ve done well by the squat house.”

“It’s done well by me.”

He studied me for a moment. “You are not the same as you were.”

I looked away. It was both a compliment and a condemnation. It stirred in me a thousand feelings, none of which I knew what to do with. “May I ask why you’re here?”