were the airdocks, where transports and personal fliers were moored. At all times, day or night, the lock arches flashed silver and airships of all shapes and sizes came and went.
Far below all this, Timha emerged from a small private lock into an atrium on the lowest level of the central platform. There were three arches here, though only the one leading to the Secret City was currently in operation. No one had told Timha where the others led, and he had been sensible enough not to ask. The entire area was off-limits to the public; its very existence was a state secret.
The guards on this side of the lock examined Timha's papers carefully, paying special attention to the release that Master Valmin had signed. A wand was passed over it to verify its veracity. Once the guards had checked the papers, they called a superior down from an upper level to review them all a second time.
Timha waited as patiently as possible, but inside he felt as though he were about to burst. If his invisible bundle were to be discovered here, he would never leave the Union Locks. There would be no public trial. They would simply slit his throat and toss him out a garbage chute, for the birds and the Arami nomads to pick over. They'd probably torture Master Valmin as well, to determine whether Timha's treason was in fact a conspiracy.
The superior officer had the guards strip Timha and carefully examine both his clothes and his bag, running deglamouring wands over every item, piece by piece. As they spread out his belongings, one of the guards stepped perilously close to the hidden bundle on the floor. If he took another step to the right, he'd tread on it. A wand passed a bit too near, and Timha tried not to gasp as a bit of the string was revealed. It lay on the floor, visible evidence of Timha's crime. He tried not to look at it. Breathe. Breathe.
Finally, finally, the guards decided that Timha was fine to proceed.
Timha bent down as nonchalantly as possible and retrieved the exposed string, waving his hand in such a way as to drag the bundle in a wide arc to keep it from accidentally brushing one of the guards when he left the room.
The guards waved him out of the atrium, and he took a small lift up to the main level of the station. He nearly ran to the )akes, where he just made it to the urinal trough before he wet his pants. Before he left, he pulled the bundle to his belly and tied the string tightly around him. As long as no one searched him again, he'd be fine.
An amplified voice rang through the station, calling the name and destination of his transport. He ran from the jakes and out of the building, ignoring the vibrant life of the place that had given him so much pleasure when he'd passed through it on the way to the Secret City. So much had changed since then. The world, he felt, had been altered beneath him. His life had drifted over a strange, hostile landscape, over the very edge of the world, and he had only the vaguest idea which direction to sail in order to save himself.
The funeral for Timha's mother was held at the observation deck atop the pinnacle spire. The city of Nearside arrayed beneath him, Timha tried to concentrate on the funeral, but his eyes kept drifting to the decks below. Proud, tall Unseelie Fae going about their business, the grand Elvish race at the height of civilization. None of them knew about Timha's plight. None of them cared.
They had no idea what lurked at the heart of their world. Timha had been exposed to that darkness, and the city could not fly high enough to bring him into the light.
The priest's elegy droned on; Timha heard none of it. As far as Timha knew, the man had never met his mother, and the speech was merely a string of empty platitudes. In a circle around the bier, Timha's family and friends sat and watched. Timha's brother Hy Foran was next to him. He reached out and squeezed Timha's hand, looking kindly at him. Timha forced a quick smile.
'Fear not, Timha. She's gone on.' Hy Foran patted him on the shoulder. Timha realized that his brother had mistaken his anxiety for grief. In truth, Timha had never particularly liked his mother. She was an uneducated lump who had seemed to revel in her own mediocrity. Come to think of it, his entire family was blandly commonplace. Timha had known from childhood that if he were ever to be happy, he'd have to leave Nearside for the City of Mab.
And look where that had gotten him. He'd been there during the abortive attack on the Seelie lands, when the city crashed near the border. Thousands had died that day. Timha had escaped with merely a broken wrist, but the horror had not left him. From there to the Secret City, the pinnacle of his young career. And from there to treason.
He looked over at Hy Foran. True grief gleamed in his brother's eyes. This was not going to be easy.
After the prayers had been said, and the bier set alight and released into the sky, the family returned to Hy Foran's home, which was a respectable if small dwelling with a view of the portside edge. Food was piled on the table in the common room, and candles glowed on a long table where a portrait of Timha's mother had been placed. Timha took a few dumplings and some boiled greens and pushed them around on his plate for a few minutes while the others ate in quiet contemplation. Hy Foran's two small children ran through the house, playing.
After the children had been put to bed and the extended family had returned to their own homes, Timha, Hy Foran, and Hy Foran's wife Letta sat
