The next morning, Timha's bag was packed and he stood on the threshold of his bedroom, looking back into it. The wooden doll his sister had carved him for his tenth birthday he left on the table by his bed, along with the antique clock his mother had given him as his graduation present from university.
He picked up the clock and turned it upside down. The inscription read, 'For Timha, who will do astonishing things.' Indeed. He put the clock down gently and began to cry again.
He left the palace and strode down the bone-white stairs toward the lock landing. With every lonely step, he looked out across the vast city with its silent spires and vacant shadows, thinking that within those long-empty windows something was watching him. Something old and hungry, with teeth the same color as the stones.
The two guards at the lock landing were Elev and Phyto, neither of whom Timha knew well. Neither was notorious for being especially strict, but that was only a relative comfort; these were Mab's palace guards, the cream of the crop. They were not fools.
Elev took Timha's travel documents, signed by Master Valmin, and studied them carefully.
'Sorry 'bout your mother,' he muttered, handing the papers back.
'Surprised they're letting you go for the funeral, to be honest,' said Elev. 'What with them canceling all leave and everything.'
'Well, Master Valmin pulled some strings for me,' said Timha. 'One of the perks of being a trusted servant, I suppose.'
'Must be nice,' said Elev.
Phyto reached out for Timha's bag. He opened it and pulled out each article of clothing, waving a tiny wand across each piece. The purpose of the wand was to dispel glamours, to ensure that Timha wasn't attempting to smuggle anything out of the city.
Phyto replaced the contents of the bag neatly and refastened its latches, then turned the wand on Timha himself. He started at Timha's feet, feeling first with his hands, then following with the wand. Up Timha's body he went, paying careful attention to the belt buckle and the brooch that fastened Timha's journeyer robe. As Phyto moved the wand above Timha's neck, Timha held out his hand.
'Please,' he said, 'not the hair.' His eyes pleaded with Phyto to let it pass.
'Bald on top, are you?' smiled Phyto.
'Yes,' answered Timha, 'and glamoured hair this believable costs a fortune in the city. I'd hate to lose it all just for a security check.'
Phyto thought this over.
'Sorry,' he said, and passed the wand over Timha's scalp. Timha's beautiful, thick hair vanished, leaving the fine wisps that were his natural complement. He sighed in relief, he'd considered hiding the documents he'd stolen up there.
'Ah, I can see why you went with the glamour,' said Elev.
'Thanks,' sneered Timha. 'Can I go please? I don't want to miss my connection on the other side of the lock, and it's almost highsun.'
'Go on,' said Elev, looking a bit regretful.
Timha knelt down to tie the bootlace he'd deliberately left slightly loose. It had taken only the slightest touch of Motion to pull it entirely undone. He looked up as he tied. Phyto and Elev had begun quibbling about whose shift ended at highsun. Still watching them, Timha reached back and grabbed at the loop of cord he'd left on the ground. It was glamoured invisible, so he'd had to drop it a few paces back from Phyto and his wand.
Wrapping the cord around his wrist, Timha tugged on it, and the sheaf of invisible documents it was tied to followed along, floating easily on a pillow of pure Motion, the same spell Timha's father had used as a bargemaster on the Stripping Sea. Timha nodded to Phyto and Elev and passed through the gate, leading his potential death by treason along behind him like a puppy.
The flying cities of the Unseelie are incredible sights to behold, but the truth is that they were born of necessity. The ground beneath them is constantly riven with earthquakes that open great cracks in the earth on a daily basis. Mab and her people took to the skies not in order to approach the heavens, but rather in order to escape the ground.
Sti I- Eret, ''Secret journeys to the North;' from Travels at Home and Abroad
he Union Locks-properly known as the Locks of Mab's Glorious Union, though no one referred to them as such-rested upon a massive floating platform in the heart of the Unseelie lands. In the center of the platform was the station itself, with its shops and cafes and its grand marble ticket counter. Surrounding the station were the locks themselves, housed in grand arches designed to complement the curves of the station. Beyond, on a separate tier,
