We look at each other for a moment, grinning, and then the waiter returns. He holds up a holotab.

“Got one of these? I’ll do a transfer.”

I hand him my holotab and he loads a map of Belvun onto it, then opens the application and traces a line several miles south from the Embassy to what looks like a docking area in a field.

“It’s a forty minute flight. You’ll want to register with the Department of the Reserve before you leave. Official stuff, don’t worry. Once you’re there, the trails are all yours.”

He tips his head toward the noisy Narvidian men. One of them says something in Narvidian, so I strain to listen, hoping to recognize a few words. His words are slurred, though. I catch the last sentence, ‘geragrin iill chakliams,’ but I only recognize chakliams, which is something about drinking, according to Orcher. The other Narvidians repeat the phrase—‘geragrin iill chakliams!’—and raise their glasses in a toast, then knock back their glasses and swallow the drinks in one gulp.

Our waiter sighs, his mouth thin. “Narvidians don’t get around to hiking much, if you can’t tell. They’re too…busy.” He hands back my holotab and clasps his hands behind his back. “Did you two get a chance to look at those desserts?”

“You said the Lemon Swirl cake is the special?”

“That I did.” He tugs the ends of his bowtie and raises his chin delightedly, motioning at Glacia. “Cake’s as gold as her eyes, and the lemon sauce filling will drive your taste buds crazy. Best served hot, if I do say so myself.”

Glacia’s eyes widen when he mentions the lemon sauce. “We’ll get it,” she blurts without giving me an option.

The waiter laughs and takes the dessert menus from us. “An excellent selection, ma’am.”

We leave Cassandra’s Bench with warm stomachs and watering mouths. The cake was excellent, and the waiter insisted we have two slices. ‘One on the house,’ he said. I’m glad, because the moment Glacia sank her teeth into a slice, her eyes shot open and she devoured it before I finished half of mine. Then she spent the next several minutes sneaking bites whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.

Now it’s late in the evening, and darkness has claimed most of the sky. We walk to a park and end up sitting on a bench beside a stream. Tiny lights dance on the stream, and leaves flap in the trees. We don’t talk, just listen, because we don’t hear these sounds on Undil. The city noises seem far away, as if the park is shielded from the towers surrounding it.