Edeard briefly thought about using domination. He’d learned enough of that technique from Tathal and the nest in those last few seconds to change anyone’s mind for them. But the Mayor was only one man; it would only solve the immediate problem-that was if there even was a Fandine militia marching on the city with revenge in mind. It was the whole situation that had to be calmed-a situation the Skylords had created. And how’s that for irony?

He recalled the meeting he’d had with Macsen and Kanseen just after Dinlay had returned from his honeymoon with Gealee. At that point Mayor Trahaval had come nowhere close to finding a solution to the massive influx of people awaiting guidance. Edeard had told the others he’d try to find out why the Skylords would accept people only from Eyrie’s towers. But there’d never been time to ask them before his final confrontation with the nest, and this time around he’d never bothered. Such things had been abandoned in favor of the voyage.

If I can get the Skylords to visit other towns on Querencia, then this will all just go away. In the meantime he had to do something about the stopover refugees outside North Gate. All that animosity on both sides is going to corrode the fulfillment which the Skylords judge us by.

“All right,” Edeard said. “Just how intractable is Our City?”

“It’s a one-cause movement, which means they simply can’t be moderate,” Dinlay said. “There will never be any kind of compromise with them, so if you’re going to take them on, it will have to be a direct election and you change the law after you’re Mayor.”

“Sounds drastic.” Edeard sucked in his cheeks. “I’d better go take a look for myself, then.”

– -

Our City had, appropriately enough, set up its headquarters in Ilongo. Dinlay had told Edeard with grudging admiration how their political ability had grown since their hurried formation. Eight of the current district representatives had stood on the Our City ticket, forming a powerful bloc in the Council. But their greatest influence over the lives of citizens came directly from the residency issue. If you were a Makkathran native searching for somewhere new to live, you had to ask Our City for its cooperation. Now that their members had legal occupancy of every previously vacant room and dwelling, they were the ones who had to relinquish their claim before someone else could move in. Only when they’d confirmed you were a genuine born-in-the-city applicant would one of their members vacate the place you wanted. In effect, Our City now controlled who lived where. And as with all political parties, they traded advantage and made deals with rivals and other groups in the Council and down on the streets and canals, insinuating themselves deeper and deeper into the city’s political structure.

Edeard walked into the Ilongo district from a gondola platform on North Curve Canal. The narrow streets in the center were a notorious maze: Most of the district was composed of boxy buildings with walls at quite sharp angles, creating alleys of narrow tunnels with only a slim line of sky visible along the apex. Streets opened into unexpected squares that were like wells of light amid the overhanging walls; fountains bubbled away cheerfully as if to celebrate the sudden glare of the sun.

It was the first Makkathran district he’d ever walked through, he remembered, he and Salrana gazing in delight at the weird buildings and more than a little nervous at the sheer number of people walking through the narrow streets and passageways. They’d pressed together for comfort and maybe just to enjoy each other, believing strongly in the future they’d have together.

He jammed his teeth together, hating the memory, hating that despite everything he could do, so much had gone wrong. That young happy Salrana was lost now, gone beyond his ability to recover. As was dear little Burlal. Unless of course I go back far enough and repeat the Weapons Guild atrocity deep below Spiral Tower. Even then, it would save only Salrana. Burlal would never be born into the world that would emerge from that.

It’s no good, I can only ever save one, even if I could bring myself to confront a living Owain again. I can only ever go forward.

Unless, he acknowledged darkly, he lived both lives. Went back and saved Salrana from Ranalee and herself and lived that life until it was time for Salrana to be guided to Odin’s Sea. Then, at the very last moment, instead of accepting guidance for himself, dive back to the time when Burlal was alive and somehow defeat Tathal another way.

Useless, he acknowledged in anguish. There is no way to defeat Tathal other than the way it’s already been done. I spent years trying. Burlal is truly beyond my reach now. My poor gorgeous grandchild.

And worse, attempting such a rescue would banish Kiranan into nothingness, along with the twins’ new babes. Unless I live this life first, then-Oh, sweet Lady, why did you ever curse me with this gift!

He came out into Rainbow Square, named after the seven walls, each with its furlike growth of moss. The actual surface was porous, weeping a steady trickle of moisture, like a sponge being squeezed. Vivid emerald moss thrived in such an ambience, its perpetually damp fronds tipped by tiny droplets that glistened brightly under the sunlight boring down the center of the square, creating a prismatic haze.

Unlike the rest of Ilongo’s crowded streets, this was empty. The Waterwalker’s black cloak stirred in agitation as he waited in front of the tallest building. Its wall leaned back away from him; in the middle was an arching double door of some ancient black wood. A smaller inset door opened.

The leadership of Our City emerged slowly. They were nervous about the Waterwalker, some of them old enough to remember the city’s power he had wielded on the great day of banishment. One of them no doubt full of poison about the Waterwalker’s malice and iniquity.

“Oh, Ladycrapit.” Edeard groaned softly at the sight of the man who was first out of the door. Dinlay had never warned him.

Vintico gave the Waterwalker a defiant stare. He was a lanky man with his mother’s eyes. Edeard might have guessed that Salrana would somehow get herself ensnared in this debacle.

There were about twenty people crowding into Rainbow Square behind Vintico, all of them staring directly at him, curious and nervous but determined, too, resolute that their advantage and position would not be taken from them by the Waterwalker, the epitome of “old” Makkathran.

Edeard addressed them all, remaining calm and quiet, demonstrating how reasonable he was. “This has to stop,” he said. “People are suffering outside the city wall. That cannot be right.”

“No, indeed, it isn’t right,” Vintico said, with murmurs of approval goading him on. “Why should good Makkathran families who followed Rah himself out of the chaos be denied a place to live? We have rights, too. When do we ever hear of those being spoken by you and your cronies on the Council, eh?”

“The Lady herself has brought us to this time when the citizens of this world are fulfilled. They must be guided to the Heart by the Skylords. This is not in dispute.”

“We don’t dispute it,” Vintico said. “We simply ask to be allowed to reach our fulfillment. How can that happen when our families are wandering the cold streets without a roof over their heads? Do you think that enriches them, eh, Waterwalker? Does that make them fulfilled?”

Edeard nodded in understanding even as he was reminded of something Finitan had said to him once in an unguarded moment: “Most people who have failed miserably in life itself have one last resort left available to them. They become politicians.” Now Edeard began to appreciate what he’d meant. “I understand your frustration,” he said. “But resolving such a massive problem to everyone’s satisfaction will take time. Something like communal way stations has to be built.”