“I like leaving,” he said. “It feels wonderful. The newness of what will come next. Like fresh, cool skin beneath my fingertips. Waking upon my last day somewhere, eating my favorite foods, burying my face in my favorite scents. Honeyed half-moons. A bay papered with ships. A song sung in my language. I love everything more when I leave it. Maybe, then, it’s the most I’ll ever love it.”

“What’s a language?”

“Pardon me?”

“A language.”

There was a pause. “It’s what we’re speaking now. The words we’re using. I’m speaking in your language, Herrath. There are many others in this wide world. I have a gift for learning them. Yours is especially easy for me because it so closely resembles Herrani. Your language … seems like an ancient version of mine.”

“Say something in Herrani.”

He murmured a stream of sounds that were soft but gently pointed in places, like meringue. “What did you say?” I asked.

“Tadpoles become tadfrogs.”

“Tadfrogs?”

“It’s what I called frogs, when I was little. My mother still teases me about it.”

“A mother.” It was good, probably, that I would never see Sid again, since every minute in his company only confirmed my impression of him as wholly different from myself: a young man from nowhere I’d ever seen, who knew things I didn’t, who had a mother. “What is she like?”

“The worst! Always in my business, always telling me what to do.”

I thought of Raven. “I have someone like a mother.”

“I’m glad. I don’t like to think of you alone in the world. It’s good to have a mother to resent.”

I chafed my bare arms. What would I do with a mother? I found myself longing to be asked to do a chore. To bring a glass of water. I imagined myself as a toddler and placing a hand on her knee, balancing the way I had seen children do, fingers curling for support. I could not envision her face.

“Nirrim?”

“I wish the ice wind would break.” I didn’t want to talk about mothers. “The guards stole my coat.”

“Take mine.”

“Then you’ll be cold.”

“I am made of stern stuff. Very strong. Stoic. What need have I of warmth?”

“Or sleep.”

“Exactly.”

“You can do without all pleasures and comforts of life, I’m sure.”

“Well, not all pleasures.”

“Let me guess which kind.”

“Oh, we both know. Nirrim, come take my coat.”

By the light of the lantern, I saw the shadow of his coat pushed through the bars. His face was still in darkness, but I could see his long, slender fingers dangling the dark coat.

“No, thank you.”

“So proud,” he said, “and so cold.”

Well, and what could he take from me? I’d snatch the coat from him. He’d never see it again, and I’d be warm.