“Who are you?” Kite’s question was almost lost as Saryth pushed forwards.

“Are you a sorcerer?” He had never met anyone like him before.

“I’m Catalys, and yes, I am a sorcerer. What are you looking for?”

“The catalytic process,” Kite said, and laughed. “I suppose I’ve found it. I take it you are responsible for the floating fire gems?”

“Yes.” The words were so much noise in Saryth’s ears.

“Why was the door bolted?” he asked. Catalys smiled.

“Master Zereel doesn’t want his source of income to walk away.”

“But you could, you know. It’s only bolted. The door, I mean.” It made no sense. Why would she stay?

“Yes, I could. But there would be no point.” Her gown was richly embroidered around the neck but it lay flat; there was no collar like he’d had. He clenched his fist.

“Why not? Don’t you want freedom?” His throat almost closed on the words. He tried to breathe evenly.

“Freedom?” She turned away. “What is freedom save living up to what fate has destined one to be?”

“Fate?” Kite asked. Saryth stared at the floor, the books on the walls, anywhere except at Catalys, struggling to control the mix of horror, fascination, yearning and rejection.

“Fate, destiny, karma. Luck, random chance. Whatever caused me to be born a sorcerer. I am meant to work magic.”

“Genetics,” Kite muttered.

“Without that,” Catalys went on, “I really have no freedom at all. And what sort of freedom is available to a sorcerer anyway? I don’t expect you to understand.”

“No!” Saryth broke in, pushing forwards. How could she say that? Kite’s hand on his shoulder checked his movement.

“Saryth.”

“But -” he turned on her and saw his own hair in the corner of his vision. His black hair. Dyed black so that people wouldn’t know. Catalys wouldn’t know. How could she? He shuddered, a toy donkey with its strings cut.

“Are you happy here?” Kite asked. The older woman looked thoughtful.

“Master Zereel brings me books,” she said eventually. “He treats me well. Here I can use magic as I wish.”

“You don’t wish to be freed?” Saryth was surprised at how level his voice sounded after all that. Catalys looked at him, then back to her desk.

“No,” she said at last, and gestured at the room. “Here is where my freedom is.”

Kite bowed.

“Thank you for your help,” she said formally.

“You’re welcome. Good night.”

They made it out of the building without further incident. Saryth barely noticed the clutter in the dim corridor. As they left the building, he couldn’t hold the questions back any longer.

“Kite, why didn’t she... I mean, what...” All that and he still didn’t have the words!

“You heard what she said,” Kite said.

“Yes, but how can I believe that? That’s not freedom, to be kept like that!” He’d at least had access to the grounds of the Duke’s keep, and the regular escape beyond too.

“She has a point, you know.”

“What?”

“If you loose a pet bird, it is not free if its wings are clipped.” Kite paused to check the street, but it was still empty. “Freedom for her is found within what she sees as her destiny, her calling. Outside of that it has no meaning.” She ducked into the alley and Saryth followed. “Either way, it’s her choice to make.”

Jig was still waiting, a few feet back from the entrance, her face a mix of worry and irritation. When she saw them it turned briefly to relief, then settled back to resentment.

“Thank you very much,” Kite said to her. “We’ll find our own way back.”

Four streets away - on the ground this time, to his relief - Saryth found words for the question that had been hiding in his brain for longer than he’d realised.

“Did I make the wrong choice?”

“Only you can answer that,” Kite said. She was walking a few steps ahead and he couldn’t see her face. “Her answer doesn’t have to be relevant to yours.” She turned and smiled. “You’ll have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Wha - why?” The sudden change of direction was disorienting.

“If you want to see the balloons?”

“Oh, yes...”