In years past the square had been well traveled, with a few vendors setting up stalls to sell fruit and drinks. Kids ran about, dodging the fountains. But mainly it was open space. Not so any longer. Hundreds of modest bamboo-framed tents had been pitched outside the mansion’s walls. Even as he walked to the main gate, Edeard could see more being assembled, with lively ge-chimps scampering over the frame, binding the canes together. Families stood by with bundles of belongings they’d carried from their hometowns.

Kristabel sniffed the air suspiciously. “I thought Kanseen had arranged sanitation wagons for the district.”

Edeard shrugged, and they passed into the mansion’s court, with its white statues and neat bushes growing out of long troughs. The main doors were open, leading to a hall whose ceiling shone with a perfect white light. Broad wing stairs curved up to the first-floor gallery. They were easy to walk up, just as Edeard always intended. He’d never really known what layout to adopt inside the mansion; it was the outside he was so sure of. When the moment came, he’d sketched out an internal design similar to the one he’d disposed of, except now the lights were white, the baths were a sensible size, the beds were a decent height, and so on down a long list of architectural discomforts that Makkathran citizens had worked around for two millennia.

Macsen and Kanseen were waiting in the small first-floor reception hall. They showed Kristabel and Edeard out onto the secluded balcony, where wine was waiting, as were Dinlay and Gealee. For his fourth wife Dinlay had fallen for a strapping redhead. Gealee was only twenty-eight years old and an easy three inches taller than her husband of two months. Seeing them standing together beside the balustrade with the setting sun behind them, Edeard had to concentrate really hard on maintaining his mental shield and not letting a single emotion seep out. All of Dinlay’s wives could so easily have been sisters. He knows it never works, so why does he always go for the same type?

“Optimism,” Kristabel murmured.

Edeard turned bright red. “Oh, Lady, did I …?”

“No. I just know you.” Kristabel smiled brightly and embraced Dinlay. “Welcome back.” She kissed Gealee. “How was the honeymoon?”

“Oh, it was just fabulous, thank you so much. The yacht you lent us took us to so many of these fabulous little harbors. Every town along the coast is so different. And the Oantrana Islands, they’re lovely, so unspoiled. I had no idea they were like that. I could live on any one of them.”

Dinlay’s arm went around his new bride. “We can retire there,” he chided.

She kissed him.

Edeard gulped down some wine.

Macsen’s arm went around his shoulder. “So what did you think of our guests?” he asked, gesturing at the big open square beyond the mansion walls.

“There’s a lot of them,” Edeard said, glad of the diversion. Even though the visitors were enduring less than favorable accommodation, the city still boasted an atmosphere of optimism and relief. The mental aspect drifting along every street and canal was of anticipation. It was like the night before a carnival.

“They’ll be gone the day after the Skylords come,” Kanseen said.

“At which point the next wave will start to arrive,” Macsen said. “Edeard, we can’t go on ignoring this. I checked with the Guild of Clerks, and there are no rooms in Makkathran left unregistered. That’s intolerable. Where are our children supposed to live?”

“Nobody is ignoring it,” Edeard said. “I’ve been to three meetings with the Mayor on this subject alone.”

“And what was his amazing conclusion?” Dinlay asked.

Edeard shot him a surprised look; his friend was normally more diplomatic. Maybe Gealee was different, after all. “He believes it will settle down after some time. We’re still experiencing an abnormally large surge of people seeking guidance. It’s inevitable at the start. The numbers will decline and level off.”

“When?”

Edeard shrugged. “It’s not the people actually seeking guidance that are the problem; it’s all the family members who come with them. They’re the ones creating the accommodation problems.”

“That’s it? That’s the Mayor’s answer? Wait a few years and the problem will go away?”

“Not quite. There are a lot of stopover inns opening around Makkathran. Most of the coastal villages within a day’s sail have at least one. More are opening each month. They will help.”

“I hope you’re right,” Gealee said. “My brother’s children are in their twenties, and they can’t find anywhere in the city to live. Keral has traveled inland to see what kind of life he could have beyond the Iguru.”

“Good for him,” Edeard said. “Too many of our children rely on the city.”

“But we’ve lived here for two thousand years,” Gealee complained. “Why should we leave?”

“Things are different now,” Macsen said. “The provinces aren’t the hardship they once were. There’s more than agriculture in the towns. Some of the guild halls out there rival those in Makkathran for size and ability.”

“Then why don’t the Skylords visit those towns? Why is it always Makkathran?”

Edeard wanted to answer. Kanseen and Dinlay were both looking at him as though they expected a reasonable explanation. He didn’t have one.

“Only Makkathran has the towers of Eyrie,” Macsen said.

That can’t be right, Edeard thought. Makkathran isn’t ours; it was never built for humans. “I’ll ask,” he blurted.

Everyone stared at him.

“Really,” he said. “When the Skylords come, I’ll ask them what they need to collect our souls. If the only place they’ll visit is Makkathran’s towers.”

Gealee leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. “Thank you, Waterwalker.”

He grinned back at her, making sure he didn’t look at Kristabel. “My pleasure.”

“This discomfort might help us,” Dinlay said.

“Discomfort?” Edeard asked.

“In Makkathran, with the stopover visitors,” Macsen explained, his face open and seemingly innocent.

“How so?”

“Discomfort breeds dissatisfaction. Everyone is going to take it out on the Mayor at the next election.”

Edeard groaned, knowing what was coming.

“The timing is good,” Kristabel said, suddenly keen. “If you’re right about the stopover inns, then the problem will be reduced considerably as your term starts.”

“My term?” Edeard wanted to tell her to stop taking Macsen’s side; this felt too much like he was being ganged up on. “I’d have to get elected first.”

“You’re the Waterwalker,” Kanseen said merrily. “Everyone will vote for you. Even the youngsters, now you’ve brought the Skylords back. Isn’t that right, Gealee?”

“Oh, yes,” she said earnestly.

Edeard added Kanseen to the list of people he couldn’t look at right now, though he wasn’t sure if the barb was intended for Gealee or Dinlay. Probably Dinlay.

“Everyone knows it’s just a matter of time,” Dinlay said.

“Do they?” He couldn’t quite maintain the disinterested attitude. Mayor? Finally. His mind wondered back to that spring day back in Ashwell, when his ge-cats had been such a success at the new well. Mayor and Pythia, he and Salrana had promised each other. We were children. That’s all. Children laughing glibly at a childish dream. But the idea that he could be Mayor still sent a thrill through him.

“Come on,” Macsen implored. “This is the time, and you know it. Just say the word.”

He glanced at Kristabel, who gave him a swift nod.

“All right, then,” he said, and even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew he could never hold in that smile of relief and anticipation. “Let’s do it.”

The others whooped and applauded, giving him hugs.

“Where in Honious do we start?” he asked. It was almost a protest.

“You leave that to me,” Dinlay said. “I’ve been putting together a team for a while.”