I walk past the excavators’ stalls without stopping, though I still glance from side to side — just in case. Piled directly on the ground, on spread-out blankets or wooden planks set up as makeshift tables, all the junk brought up from the depths of the City of Scholars sits in a jumbled mess. Before ending up here, the spoils of the digs are sifted through by the Ordis for anything of historical significance — black stone frontispieces veined with gold and intricately carved, brittle-covered tomes... — and also screened by the Axiom if any relics show technological promise.

Everything else washes up here, like driftwood on the shore after a storm. There are less ornate blocks of all shapes and sizes for collectors, destined to end up in Asgartha on desks and library shelves as bookends or paperweights... There are also small pebbles, flints, or stones for anyone who wants them, which some artisans offer to polish and set into jewelry — souvenirs to send back home to loved ones.

Gradually, the sellers’ practiced sales pitches fade, giving way to the mouthwatering smells drifting from the Mess. Sweet, savory, floral scents mix with the aroma of roasted meats. Thin red drapes have been stretched above the tables and benches, forming a sort of rippling canopy over the food court. It’s still relatively empty at this mid-afternoon hour, though a few people wait at each stall. I’d be tempted to stop, but Bash is waiting for me, and I still feel guilty about last time’s fiasco.

Beep, beeeeep.

‘Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your oil once we get there’, I grumble at my Alter Ego.

Like an oversized fly, he flits from table to table, scanning every dish the explorers ordered. I’m about to tell him to stop bothering them when a shadow passes overhead. I look up.

Dozens of meters above, the Lyra stage drifts slowly through the azure sky, where shimmering vapors still linger from the last Tumult disturbance. I suddenly remember that the BLISS! concert is tonight, after being postponed last week. I sigh, torn between checking it out or shutting myself away in my workshop to study more relics from the buried city. I’ll decide when the time comes.

Beside me, Oddball lets out an excited trill.

‘Maybe, rascal. Maybe.’

I make my way across some steel beams so my sprint blades don’t sink into the Screed’s soft earth, then hop toward a pile of stone blocks to avoid a gravel path. Subhash set up his workbenches right at the edge of the chasm, near the elevators, in a chaotic sprawl of spare parts.

Of course Marmo is the first to spot us. He comes running, tail wagging, barking, circling us to invite us to play. I kneel as he tries to nuzzle me, though I manage to dodge his cold nose and wet tongue before he can lick my face.

Beeep, beep, beep, beep?

‘Yeah, you guys can go play.’

Buzzing happily, Oddball darts toward the scrap piles, Marmo chasing close behind. I watch them chase each other, weaving between metal mounds, before I head toward Bash’s workshop. I find him quickly, looking pensive and a bit lost — as if he were adrift in his own mess, his clutter mirroring the labyrinth of his thoughts.

‘So? Any luck?’

He turns to me as if I’d snapped him out of a daydream. Still dazed, he glances at the amber nugget in his hand, then sets it down on his workbench like a treat he’s trying to resist.

‘Luck with what? My love life? This whole mess? Or just the small fry? Take your pick.’

‘Oof, did I hit a nerve?’

He runs a hand over his face, then strokes the beard he’s let grow these past few weeks.

‘All three are dead in the water, if you really want to know…’

‘Even with the journalist?’

‘What journalist?’, he asks, half-exasperated and half-baffled.

‘You know exactly who’, I say, smirking, fully expecting his comeback.

‘I know some people should mind their own damn business!’

I raise my hands in mock surrender.

‘Okay, okay, mea culpa! But seriously, have you made any progress on your research?’

He sighs, giving a little kick to the trestle holding up his table.

‘When we discovered the fluid, I was certain... Nah, forget it. It’s stupid.’

‘Certain of what?’

He shakes his head.

‘You’ll think I’m an idiot.’

‘Come on, spit it out. It’s not like I haven’t had my own dumb ideas.’

‘For a while, I thought it could be Sun Kelon…’

I sit on a sheet of metal to rest my sore thighs.

‘You're talking to someone who, as a kid, dreamed of exploring the City of Light. And even though I know it’s silly, I still hope to find it somewhere in the Tumult.’

Bash stays silent for a moment.

‘Yeah, it’s comforting to know there’s always someone even more naïve than me…’

I pick up a metal piece and toss it at him. He dodges, laughing, then calls a time-out with his hands.

‘The fluid has energy properties, that’s certain. Everything points to that. The only thing left is figuring out how to harness it.’

‘A ‘only’ that could take forever’, I can’t help adding. ‘That’s something we already knew when we left the Cais Adarra. The machine started working…’

‘Except we only have that one machine, and no way to replicate it. What’s taking forever is adapting it to our gear. Yes, it’s slower than we thought. But the good thing is, there’s a ton of it down there. Silos, tanks, all kinds of places it was stored in huge quantities. But…’

‘But we still don’t know what it actually is, right?’

He shrugs.

‘I’ve heard rumors it might be organic in origin... If we knew, maybe we could figure out how to use it properly.’

‘The botanists…’

He snaps his fingers and suddenly interrupts me.

‘You don’t think the Muna…’

‘Uh…’

‘There have to be one or two not stuck on the Farm. If I can recruit them, maybe…’

He rubs his chin and looks at me.

‘Anthea’s Exalt, Arj…’

I see his eyes go wide. I frown at him, then realize he’s staring past me. Slowly, I turn around, standing up from my warped metal perch.

Above the high cliffs of the crater, just now emerging from behind idle clouds, a dark silhouette reveals itself — a chaotic jumble of mismatched shacks and colorful roofs. First, I spot its helium balloons of all shapes and sizes: a giant clown face, a blue whale, ridiculous chicks... Then my gaze rises to the top of the floating city — a cluster of mobiles and orreries, crowned with a crescent moon that seems gilded in gold leaf... With its tents, it looks like a giant circus or a theme park pinned into the sky.

I recognize it immediately. The Wayfarer, Sahanka of the Tisdhera Clan…

I stand up fully, barely noticing Bash’s stunned expression. I know I should say something to him, but it’s already too late. I’m already moving toward the suspended city, mesmerized, seized by an irresistible urge, as if lured by a siren’s song. It’s stronger than me. I start to run. I leap down from a tangle of mechanical scraps and sprint as fast as I can.

In the distance, the Wayfarer now hovers above the Screed. It’s coming from the southeast, as if it too had followed the brief opening that appeared in the Tumult.

I dash past wanderers staring up at the sky or pointing with wide eyes. I rush forward, not paying attention to the cantonment now buzzing with excitement. Gasps of surprise, exclamations... The entire enclave is transfixed by the gargantuan Lyra city, as if time had stopped, as if the whole camp were frozen.

Little by little, shock and confusion give way to joy, and I pick up my pace. I cross the main square without stopping, reaching the edge of the camp. Fascinated, I gaze at the balloons — shaped like cat heads, turtles, goldfish — drifting lazily, like the heads of a burlesque hydra…

What is another Lyra Clan doing here? Have they finally decided to join the Rediscovery Endeavor? Even though I know my allegiance now lies with the Axiom, my blood reacts instantly, instinctively.

As I cut through the grassy sea, whipped by a cheerful breeze, I see the Wayfarer positioning itself near the Ouroboros. The two cities exchange signals of light, while gondolas descend from the newly arrived city, like wicker baskets lowered on ropes.

Soon, the alleys of our temporary camp will be filled with the painters and clowns of the Tisdhera Clan. Tragicomic skits will mingle with tightrope acts, goofy scenes will share space with sleight-of-hand shows... And I’ll watch the painters splatter the world with their wild pigments…

I slow down, wipe sweat from my forehead, and try to catch my breath. I look up into the colossal shadow of the city as more cabins are lowered. My head spins, and for reasons I can’t explain, my heart is pounding.

Oddball finally catches up, emitting high-pitched, anxious beeps. But I smile at him and pick him up in my arms to reassure him that everything’s okay.

‘It’s one of the Nine Clans…’

I don’t know why they decided to follow us, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Tears fill my eyes for no clear reason. There was nothing to analyze, only to feel the joy of this unexpected arrival.

‘Sierra!’

I suddenly freeze, my heart clenching tight in my chest. I’d recognize that voice anywhere — it’s branded into me, like a scar. Tears pour down my cheeks in heavy streams, and my whole body starts to shake.

I turn toward the voice calling me, as my own voice breaks...