“I’m sorry, Kosar. It’s not something I wanted to keep from you—truth is, it’s not something I did consciously. It’s been a part of my life for so long that I really don’t think I’m out of the ordinary. That was the first and last time I ever saw a Monk, and since then I’ve just been wandering. Never seen any sign of the magic I’m supposed to promote, and in all honesty I stopped looking long ago. It’s not like this was an obsession. The Shantasi mystics gave us talents, and much more besides.” She trailed off here, and Kosar thought, Much more besides . . . That’s what she can never tell me. It’s that “much more” that makes her a stranger to me now.

“But it was never an obsession.” It sounded to Kosar as if she was trying to persuade herself.

“So now?” he asked, wincing as a gang of kids ran past carrying screeching bats. His headache had rooted itself firmly now, and the piercing screams seemed to thump inside his skull and become trapped there.

“Now we have to find the boy,” she said. “But back to my place first. We can spend a while there, make plans. And catch up.”

“I think I’ve done enough catching up for one night,” Kosar said.

“I wasn’t planning on talking.” A’Meer’s voice contained none of the flippancy he had come to know, none of the mischievous glee. It was low, urgent and very serious, as if she knew that tonight might be the last of its kind. She wanted one more fling with normalcy before things changed forever.

They walked through the busy streets until they reached A’Meer’s home, a ground-floor flat in a block of three. A whore lived directly above her, A’Meer said, and the third flat appeared empty. No one ever came, no one ever left. Windows were covered day and night. Another mystery in a town that cared little for them.