“Fresh and warm and with just the right mix of spices. Can’t buy anything like it anywhere else. I wanted to keep the recipe a secret but the Embassy wouldn’t let me. ‘Liability issues,’ they said. Bah!” Barimus shakes his head and grabs two clear mugs from a shelf. “So that’ll be Wickberry for Lawrence, and what can I get you, Mr. Lance?”

“I guess I’ll try the Brangleberry Tea.”

“Thought so. Coming right up.”

Barimus clinks the mugs together and starts blending fruits and shaking juices. By the time he’s done, the mugs are filled with colorful drinks: mine is light blue, dotted with tiny black seeds, and Captain Blitner’s is dark yellow, thick, and has steam rising from its surface.

“And what can I get you to eat this morning, gents?” Barimus asks, pointing me to a menu above a long glass display of warm pastries, fruity muffins, sliced bread with gooey sauces, croissants, Killari sausage breakfast sandwiches, egg sandwiches, and more.

“I’ll take a lemon croissant, please,” Captain Blitner requests.

Barimus grabs a croissant and sticks it inside an oven warmer. I settle for an egg sandwich, with two slices of cherry-glazed toast.

“See you on your way out,” Barimus says when he hands us the food. He slaps the counter again and greets the people who walked in behind us.

Captain Blitner and I sit at a table near a window that looks out over a grassy courtyard. A group of Narvidians are sitting on the benches, drinking coffee and laughing among themselves. Two of them are waving their hands in the air. I realize they’re wearing headsets, which project small images in front of their faces. Whatever those things are, I want one.

A tiny gray bird with white wings flutters down, hops through the orange grass, pecking at the ground, and takes flight again. It shoots into a tree and vanishes.

“That’s a Dell Washer,” Captain Blitner says, his eyes also fixed on the tree the bird flew into. “They like to nest in cities, if you can’t tell. Most of the trees are occupied. If you keep an eye out, you’ll see them hopping in the branches.”

“What are the big black ones?” I ask, remembering the flock I saw when we arrived.

“Larins. They eat fruits and nuts and insects, which is rather uncommon for birds their size.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin, and some crumbs fall to the table. “Adeross Hawks, for instance, are predatory. They’ll attack the Larins…knock them right out of the air and tear their wings right off. Luckily for the Larins in this region, there are no hawks. Their populations are west of here.”