Venkat nodded. “I wanted to save him,” he mumbled, because otherwise he would shout it until even the hills on the outskirts of the city boomed with how much this hurt. “I was hoping . . .”

“Indeed, and that is what we are striving toward here. To change the story so we no longer need mortal dreams.”

“But what’s the point?” Venkat tried and failed to moderate his tone. “What are we really doing for him? For any of them?”

The gleam in Nayan’s eyes pinned him in place. “We give them dreams. A reason to keep going.”

“Dreams,” he echoed, numb.

“Their dreams,” Nayan agreed, “over and over, in the hope of one day satisfying them. Dreams, like stories, distract people. They give them something to hold on to. To work toward. It is no different than our own customers.”

He rose and moved toward the door. “In any case, you must not fall for the dream and so forget to cultivate distance in this work. It will only become more demanding.”

Venkat reluctantly stood, too. Nayan wasn’t saying anything he didn’t already know, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling he’d let Jai down. There was so much he wanted to say, to do. “Shouldn’t someone stay with him?”

“No need. I will handle the situation,” Nayan said. “You must only prepare yourself for the party. Madhu has arranged for your attire to be waiting in your rooms. I will meet you there in two hours.”

Nayan had always insisted on escorting the burned-out runners to Prithvi himself. A small mercy, but Venkat’s heart still contracted. He would never see Jai again, let alone say good-bye.

Not that Jai would notice.

“It will be all right,” Nayan promised. He handed Venkat a small parcel. “Remember our goal.”

At last, with another nod, Venkat left to get dressed.

9

Jai. Tanvi had to find Jai.

She didn’t bother to shut Sameer’s door behind her, just ran toward the alley.

A floodlight dazed her, so garish the night might as well have been noon. It left her seeing spots. Raucous laughter and shouts from South Street bombarded her. Whiffs of stale coffee and cooking grease made her stomach rebel.

More details she didn’t want to see or hear or smell. They should be bouncing right off, not tugging at her hard enough that she almost bashed her head against the nearest mailbox.

Until now, there had never been a time when Tanvi had gone to Prithvi and not harvested dreams to sell in Nagalok. The wrongness of it made her bones hurt. She was a dream runner. She was supposed to be harvesting dreams in exchange for boons. Everyone knew that.

“Tanvi, ssssstop,” Asha hissed, so close Tanvi could feel the s’s on her neck. It wasn’t fair; no matter how hard Tanvi trained, nagas could outpace her without breaking a sweat.