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were like twins, attached at the shoulders and equally hateful.
    “Well,” remarked Alazrian. “Thank you very much. I’m overwhelmed.” He went back to looking out over the city. It was marvelous. He could see the palace across the river Kiel and a hundred little boats navigating the waterway. Far below in the dark streets, beggars moved in shambling mounds mixing with the pretty painted ladies who cruised the avenues to shop and gossip. He had heard a dozen different languages the moment he’d stepped off the ship and onto Nar’s docks and his head was still ringing with the throbbing of the distant incinerators. Alazrian took a deep breath of the metallically charged air.
    “Is it always like this, Rian?” he asked.
    “Like what, my lord?”
    Alazrian shrugged. “I don’t know. So … smelly?”
    The servant laughed. “You’ll get used to it, my lord. I can close the balcony doors if you like. If you’ll just step off for a moment …”
    “Oh, no,” said Alazrian. “No, I want to stay out here. I want to see everything.”
    It was like he was afloat on the wind, and Alazrian suppressed a giddy laugh. It had been a terrible voyage from Talistan with Leth, aboard a merchant ship his father had chartered for the trip. Alazrian had vomited almost daily.But now, in the face of this spellbinding city, it all seemed worth it.
    “Rian,” he asked. “Where was the cathedral? Can you show me?”
    Rian hesitated. “Master Leth, the cathedral is gone.”
    “Yes, I know. I know that your lord Biagio destroyed the cathedral. I just want to know where it stood. My mother loved the cathedral, you see. She’s dead now, and, well … Tell me where it was, won’t you?”
    Rian stepped onto the balcony, looked around for a moment, then pointed a finger toward a wide avenue off in the distance.
    “There, near High Street,” he said. “The cathedral was by the riverbank.”
    Alazrian nodded, squinting to see. He studied the winding river, but he was far away from the site and could see very little, only an empty space where something colossal should have been.
    “Was it very beautiful?” he asked.
    “Young master, it’s not proper for me to discuss these things with you, or to discuss the cathedral. The minister doesn’t care for talk about those days.”
    The days when Herrith ruled Nar
, thought Alazrian.
Before Biagio stole it from him
.
    “There’s so much I’d like to know about this place. I have many questions. Perhaps you can help me.”
    “I’m here to serve you, my lord. But questions really aren’t my purview.” The slave smiled, then quickly changed subjects. “You must be tired, yes?”
    Now that he thought about it, Alazrian realized he was exhausted. It had been a month since he’d left Aramoor, and the sea journey had soured his stomach and turned his brain to porridge.
    “Yes, very tired,” he admitted.
    “I’ve moved your things into the bedchamber,” said Rian. He pointed toward a white-painted door on the other side of the room. It had a half-moon curve to its top and alabaster carvings along its length. It was beautiful, like everything in Alazrian’s chamber. “You can get somerest now if you like. Or I can bring you some food, perhaps?”
    “No, nothing yet,” replied Alazrian. “I’ll sleep a bit. But first …” He leaned out over the railing. “Let me look at the city.”
    “As you say, my lord,” said Rian, then left the balcony, retreating from the apartment and closing the door behind him. A blast from a faroff smokestack sent up a shuddering flame. The sky glowed a ghostly bronze, and Alazrian watched it in awe as though it were a shooting star to wish upon.
    “God in heaven,” he whispered. “What is this place?”
    The Tower of Truth might be a cage for him, but it was gilded with gold and barred with silver, and Alazrian didn’t feel like a prisoner at all. He felt like a prince. More, he loved that he had a room of his own again. He loved being