The trees were small and appropriate to the spot. A cherry tree was the centerpiece of the tableau, with fruit too high to reach, branches too thin to climb, and beneath them all a thick blur of fruit flies gorging on the half-fermented pulp of fallen fruit amid the grass. The hot, sweet scent of frangipani dominated, wafting from white- and pink-crested trees with dark, glossy leaves and dark, glossy trails of black ants following lines of sticky sap.

Xandre was sitting on a stone bench under a white frangipani tree, trying and mostly failing to pick up small bits of broken masonry with his toes. He noticed them and instantly adopted a poised, meditative posture.

“I wasn’t always a street rat,” he said in a tone that was too heavy with pathos to be taken seriously.

“Liar,” said Galina, her voice deep with amusement and admiration at his showmanship. “This is the courtyard garden beside the City Basilica. I suppose you’ve broken in here many a time to steal fruit and throw stones at the birds.”

He relaxed into a more natural slump and shrugged. “Maybe. Anyway, it’s my favorite place. So I get to keep it.”

“A thief to the last,” said Danil with dry approval.

The boy grinned at that, but then he saw Chance, and his grin became a gape of shock. “You!”

“Yes and no,” Chance replied. He was not surprised to be recognized in spite of his new shadow. After all, Xandre was the only one of them who had actually met him.

Astonishment became confusion. “But . . . don’t I know you?”

“A lot has happened to both of us since then,” Chance explained. “Are you willing to guide me?”

Xandre hesitated, still unsure whether or not to be scared, then nodded. The Mermaid watched with a small, knowing smile. Chance did not have to face her directly to see that the smile held no kindness.

Xandre walked ahead, leading them down the path and through an open gate of black-painted cast iron, which hung askew from the stone wall on rusty hinges. His gait was off. He moved like one accustomed to speaking with his hands even in silence, and the lack of them unbalanced both body and mind to halting midflow. Whenever he stumbled, physically or verbally, he soon drew himself together with extreme control and self-possession, but it was a temporary measure, impossible to sustain for long.

Chance let himself drift to the rear of the group again. The Mermaid peeped over Danil’s shoulder, watching him.

“Brace yourself,” she warned.

The ground dissolved into ocean, and the group broke into a cacophony of yells, screams, and laughter. The Mermaid swam free of Danil, who was well occupied with Galina clinging to his arm in panic.

“Ahoy! Ahoy!” shrieked Xandre, bobbing up and down as he splashed the water with his blunted arms.