“Oh my, who is this?” She puts down her tools when she sees Taraana, who admittedly is not making any effort to hide himself. He spares the woman a glance before returning his attention to the clocks.

“He is one of us,” Valentina replies with a too-long stare at the middle worlder.

Taraana beams at her words, and the sun comes out in the musty dark store.

“Are these for sale?” he asks Miray.

“Indeed, they are.” Miray holds up the cogwheel in her hands. “I am willing to sell you whichever one you choose.”

“Do you really want to buy one?” Paheli asks Taraana.

“Why not?” Taraana replies.

“These clocks allow the buyer to reexperience bits of their past. And you cannot choose which bits you reexperience,” Daraja says gently.

Taraana pales at her words. “I… Sorry. I no longer want one.”

Miray looks at Taraana again. She puts down the cogwheel and opens a drawer beside her chair. She rummages around in the drawer for a while before pulling out a thin rectangular box. She hands it to Taraana, who opens the box to reveal a pair of spectacles.

“I got this from a magic user as payment for a clock.” She sees our baffled looks and elaborates. “They will make an effective disguise for him. I don’t know who he is, but the stars in his eyes are very conspicuous. They might attract the wrong sort of attention.”

Taraana takes the glasses out of the box and puts them on. Immediately, his appearance changes into that of a rather rakish boy who still has dark hair and dark skin but with no magic that we can sense. These spectacles make him into a beautiful but very ordinary human. When he wears these, middle worlders won’t give him a second glance. Probably.

“Will they do?” Miray asks.

“Why are you helping us?” Kamboja gives the middle worlder a suspicious look.

“Oh, don’t worry. That isn’t free. I will make you pay for it.” Miray smiles with all her teeth showing. “Now, shall we bargain?”

Ten minutes later we are done with business and on our way to the reason we came to Istanbul. And no, we are not talking about Baarish’s granddaughter.

Taraana’s glasses give us and him a reprieve from hiding. Obviously, we are still not completely safe, but to be a Wild One, you have to be comfortable with walking on dark roads. The road to becoming a Wild One is dark.

So, we catch a bus to Eminönü and make our way to the western side of Galata Bridge. The place is full of people enjoying the day and the food we have come searching for.