On such a beautiful summer’s day, trestle tables filled the tavern’s outdoor courtyard. Men drank and ate and argued. A youth read aloud from a pamphlet for those who could not read.

“ ‘A Declaration of Rights and a Civil Code. Book One. Title One. Chapter One. Every person shall enjoy civil rights.’ What do you think of that, eh? Every person!”

A lively argument arose among the men over who could be deemed a person. Did the word person include women? Inside, to my delight, I immediately spotted Rory seated in a corner next to a young man. They were sharing a mug of beer mostly, I thought, for the chance to dandle each other’s fingers. I gently eased my shadows away so no one would be startled by my sudden appearance. Seeing me, Rory broke off. Excusing himself with an apologetic smile, he made his way to me. I followed him to the back, into a separate building made up of rooms where, for the first time, I saw trolls. In a sequestered courtyard clusters of trolls drank and ate. After so long, I had forgotten trolls saw my cane as a sword even in daylight.

“Roderic, what is that shiny blade?” called one red-and-yellow male, the question followed up by whistled inquiries from all around the courtyard. Feathered people turned to look with the bared teeth of trolls mimicking human emotions, in this case amusement and curiosity.

“My sister has come to visit,” he replied, at ease in this flock. “Has Chartji flown off?”

Yes, she had, in company with the Honeyed Voice.

“The Honeyed Voice?” I asked as Rory hurried me out the back past a warren of lanes hung with mirrors and shards of glass whose flashing and spinning made me reel and gag. I felt like the very threads of being were unraveling.

“Those troll mazes are unpleasant, aren’t they?” He steered us to a lane lined with shops whose windows had only glass, no mirrors. I leaned against a wall as nausea and headache did a frenetic dance that slowly receded. After a while, he went on. “The Honeyed Voice is what the feathered people call Bee. It’s a play on words. She’s a Bee and she gives speeches…”

“I know, Rory. I figured it out.”

“What’s got your hair up?” He peered at me. “You’ve had a fight with him! People do that, you know. After some talking and petting, it will all be set right again.”

“We haven’t had a fight.”

His tone changed. “Cat, don’t lie.”

“We didn’t have a fight. It’s just the mansa got his claws into Vai. I have to rescue him, only he doesn’t want to be rescued, he has everything he thinks he ever wanted. He can’t see what kind of man he is going to become if he stays there. He thinks he can change them but they’re changing him.”