“Lieutenant Hofhen had the same reaction her first time,” Orcher tells me as he reaches inside his pocket and retrieves a bottle similar to Captain Blitner’s. “Take these. They’ll clear your head.”

I swallow two pills. A light sensation tickles the inside of my stomach and moves upward.

“You slap hard,” I tell Glacia.

“I couldn’t resist,” she teases.

A cool breeze shoots shivers up my spine and I have to squeeze my eyes shut. Focus. Shaking my head makes me dizzy. I open my eyes and situate myself. Okay. Where are we? Standing near a mag-train station. People are gathering at the front of the platform. And in the distance—across a field of knee-high grass and up a slight hill—stands a city.

The Belvun Embassy.

A forest cradles glassy towers that reflect the sky and clouds. The towers on the right rise higher than those on the left, such that the city sweeps upward on one side. It’s a city that matches the elegance of the planet it adorns, yet fails to hint at the damage wrought by the desert.

Movement. Maglev trains glide along a track constructed in the orange field. We board the first train that pulls into the station. Slotted vents in the ceiling blow cool air and every seat is padded, unlike the hard benches on Undil’s underground maglev trains.

The trip to the city lasts three minutes. Glacia and I follow Orcher back outside and find ourselves staring up at the Embassy. We move with the crowd. I gaze around, unable to take in every sight because there is so much to see. Walkways hang between towers, maglev cars hum in the streets, colorful shrubs and flowers sprout up in long gardens that line the sidewalks. Farther down, jets of water shoot into the air on either side of a silver monument that reflects grotesque images of us. People dine at tables on glass balconies above the sidewalks. And the trees: thick trunks rise every twenty yards. Their close-kept canopies sway in the wind and cast shadows on the windows and streets.

Two Belvish Officials lead our group down the Embassy’s busiest street: the Main Loop. It curves north and extends farther into the city. At the next block, we pass a park. A stream trickles through its center. Smaller trees with bright yellow leaves stand in the tidy grass, and benches sit along a stone path that follows the stream.

The Belvish Officials stop at a building three blocks beyond the park. Mercator Hall is inscribed on a golden plate above the entrance.

Orcher pulls me and Glacia to the side, but lets the Undilaen Officials enter the building. “We’ll wait for Ambassador Rafting and then be on our way.”