The early morning was worth it. It would have been worth it without the balloons; he’d never seen the sea, and the view from the cliffs south and east of the city was awe-inspiring. The sun rose over the vast expanse, colouring the sky in a thousand different changing hues of pink, gold, blue, purple and others he didn’t even have names for. As the light increased, the balloons began to take off from the launching area on his left, lurching into the sky and sailing with the faltering offshore winds towards the craggy rocks in the far distance. Saryth was vaguely aware of the sounds of people working hard, shouts between team-mates, cheerful banter and the thud and thunk of heavy things being manouevred, but the view in front of him was too entrancing to look away. He didn’t even notice the approach of another person.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Thurron had limped up to stand next to him.

“Oh, hello Thurron. Why are you here?” Had Kite called for him? She’d stayed in bed that morning when he’d got up to see the balloons.

“To remind myself what I’m missing.” He stared up at the balloons. “Otherwise I might get fond of working in the inn.”

“I see,” Saryth said.

“One day I want my own balloon.”

“Why?”

“So that I can go where I want. I want to explore, not pick up bird droppings.” He edged forwards. “I want to see what’s over the horizon. To sail the endless sky.”

Sarth felt the words echo inside him, speaking to something he rarely ever took account of. The same feeling he had when staring at the sky outside Corwaith Keep, the same feeling as when he’d followed Kite away, into something completely outside his experience. Exhilarating, wonderful, potentially dangerous. He took a deep breath of the salty air.

“That’s not your natural hair, is it?” The question wrenched him back to earth. Breathe. Breathe. Don’t panic.

“No, it isn’t. Why -”

“You can always tell.” Thurron was still watching the balloons, still at ease. Not the pose of someone confronting a dangerous criminal. “But don’t worry,” he smiled. “My cousin wears a wig too, it’s not that unusual.”

“Ah, yes...” Saryth put his hand to his head, torn between indignation and relief.

“We should go, you know,” Thurron said, turning away. “I have to help with breakfast, and you have to eat it.”

Saryth followed, turning to look back at the balloons strung out in the morning sky like pearls on the necklace of the dawn. Free and not free, flying to pick up bird droppings. Something else to add to the balance he was trying to find.

Breakfast was reheated stew with fresh bread, even tastier than the night before and very welcome after their exertions over the rooftops. Thurron came out from the kitchen to say goodbye with his uncle.

“Thank you for your custom,” said the innkeep. “Safe travels!”

“Goodbye, and thank you.”

On the way out, Kite took a detour via one of the smaller markets, where she mused over a table arrayed with secondhand footwear. Eventually she chose a small, plain, sturdy pair of boots, much to Saryth’s bemusement. They were good quality, but in no way a replacement for the tall black boots Kite already wore.

“How much are these, please?” she asked the stallholder.

“They’re fine leather, they are,” he said, the traditional opening. “One gold horse coin.”

“Thank you very much,” Kite said, handing over the money. The stallholder gaped.

“Um, thank you,” he said, but Kite was already turning away.

“You’re supposed to haggle,” Saryth said, amused, as they left the market and headed for the nearest city gate.

“I know. I didn’t feel like it. Come on, let’s go.”

“But... why boots?”

His question went unanswered until, about fifteen minutes into the walk away from Taerside, Jig caught up to them.

“Wait!” she shouted. Saryth jumped and turned, but Kite just smirked. “Wait for me!” The thief panted up to them and bent over, breathing hard. Her feet, protected only by wrappings, looked sore from the run on the rutted earth.

“You? Why -?” Saryth was nonplussed.

“What do you want?” Kite’s face was solemn, her amusement hidden.

“Let me come with you,” Jig said, straightening.

“Why do you want to?”

“Because.. everyone knows I messed up last night.”

“We didn’t say anything.”

“I know,” she waved a hand, “but stuff gets around. And you’re interesting.”

“Interesting how?” Saryth folded his arms, unimpressed with her plea.

“No-one’s ever seen clothes like hers before,” Jig pointed at Kite. “And you’re a sorcerer.”

“What?” That had come from nowhere. Calm down. She isn’t afraid and she’s not about to tell anyone. Kite snickered unhelpfully.

“Any sneak thief can smell hair dye,” Jig said with a grin. “Yours is very good, but it still doesn’t shine right.”

“I had to wear a towel round my head for three days for this, and it’s that obvious?” Does that mean she knows how to get hair dye? That could be useful.

“Well, we’re going to Kirmouth,” Kite said, recapturing the conversation. “If you want to come, you’re welcome. You might need these.” She produced the boots, and Jig’s face lit up.

“Thanks!” She grabbed them, sat down and pulled them on over her footwraps.

“Kirmouth?” Saryth asked. He hadn’t really paid attention to their destination.

“I need to talk to someone.”

“About the sun?”

“No, not quite. I don’t think the sun has been very close to this world. The Eskandian technology could be simply a precursor to a normal phase shift.” There was that phrase again, but he didn’t interrupt. “So I think it’s time to move on.”

Finished, Jig jumped up, admiring her new boots, and Kite started walking again.

“After Kirmouth, I think I’ll be leaving this world.”