“Hallucinations,” he corrected. “Clever tricks to make the High Kith spend more money. The things people call ‘magic’ don’t last. A flower that sings as it opens its petals? Withered and dead within a day. A tiny key that melts on your tongue and makes you the smartest person in the room? You’re back to your old self after a few hours, with a headache to boot.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not magic.”

“You want to believe that, just like everyone else. I get it. Makes life more exciting. And maybe you’re right. But whatever it is, it’s no good to me if it can’t be kept.”

I understood. Something that disappears isn’t worth having unless you already have a lot of everything else.

But then I thought about sugar. I thought about this night, which was precious to me even if I hadn’t found what I was seeking, even if—I glanced at the brightening sky—the night was almost over and I might never have another one like it.

“I’ve got to go,” I said.

“Hey. Your friend. What’s so important about finding her?”

Maybe she had already left the city. She had said we would never see each other again.

“Nothing,” I said. “Not really. I just needed an excuse to screw up my courage to go beyond the wall.”

I think I believed that, at the time.

Dawn was seeping through my window when I snuck into my room. Brilliant pink and syrupy orange. High-Kith colors.

I fumbled out of my clothes. I slipped my passport into a wide crack in one of the beams where it supported the ceiling. The dream vial I tucked among the dull clothes in my wardrobe, having no better place to hide it.

One hour, maybe, of sleep. Then work.

Work as always, days of sameness.

Except that I was different. I felt the difference shimmering all over my skin.

I returned to the wardrobe. I slid the dream of new vial from its hiding place. A splash of golden liquid sloshed at its bottom. The thin, curved glass was cool beneath my nervous fingers. I carried the vial with me into bed.

I uncorked the vial. Its liquid smelled like lemons and fizzed. Popping bubbles tickled my nose. This seemed somehow so friendly, so teasing, that I was reminded of Sid. I tipped the vial and drank.

The liquid burned, pleasingly, all the way down.

The pillow beneath my cheek felt as smooth as milk.

I dropped like a stone into sleep.

20

I WAS IN THE AGORA. I recognized it by its black-and-white diamond pavement, but it looked so astonishingly different from the agora I passed through every day that I didn’t pay attention, at first, to the cluster of people at its sunny center.