I carefully felt along his shoulder. Where he had been shot a scar had already formed. “At least we’re back in the mortal world.”

He hissed. “Shh! I smell people. I hear them, too.”

We crept through a maze of shallow, stagnant pools, scum slicking our feet. The air was thick with a scent similar to the one I imagined the ancient wrappings of Kemet mummies would have if you were so unfortunate as to be forced to unwrap one in order to clothe yourself. I probed with a foot, my sandal tapping rock.

He whispered, “I hate it when I have no shoes and the ground pokes my feet.”

“I brought sandals. Put them on.”

“You’re such a good sister. Always thinking of my comfort!”

“My comfort, too. Put on these trousers and singlet first!”

“Clothes are so confining. I understand why you wear them when it’s cold, but I see no need for them in a warm place like here.”

“In human society you are meant to clothe yourself except when you are in private.”

“Yes, it would be difficult to pet if one had to wear clothes!” He pressed a hand to my cheek. “Your skin is hot, Cat. Are you feverish?”

“It’s called blushing. Is the wound on your leg bleeding? No? Then put your trousers on!”

When he had dressed, we moved on. A salt-sea smell tinged with smoke tickled my nose. Light filtered in, too constant to be torchlight and too bright to be candles. We groped along a rock wall on which figures had been drawn in poses of dancing and eating as at one of the festivals the locals called an areito. It was at such a festival with its dancing and food that Vai had won my heart. I could almost hear the ghost of that night’s music in my ears, until I realized I was hearing singing, drums, and the rattle of shaken gourds. A rocky incline dusted with drifting sand gave way to a cave mouth. Its ledge overlooked a massive hollow fitted out with gaslights. From the height of the ledge we gazed across the hollow and through a monumental arch built from massive beams of wood. Through the archway could be seen a magnificent city whose major thoroughfares were illuminated by gas lamps. Right in the center of the city lay the straight lines of a ballcourt and next to it a plaza with high-roofed buildings like administrative offices and palaces. Beyond the city, a full moon glimmered over a flat sea. Masts filled a harbor, and bloated shadows moored to short towers marked airships. The distant jetty was strung with globes, their golden light awash over the dark waters. The entire city seemed to be out celebrating.

It was the view Bee had drawn in her sketchbook, only without us in it.