If there was one thing Isyar and humans had in common, it was a love of art. Even if Isyar never made art anymore, they still appreciated it. But as humans still made art, it meant it was possible to see new art one had never seen before. That was one great thing about wandering human lands. Jorvanultumn had no idea when the painting he was looking at had been painted. It could have been last week, last year, a hundred years ago, or anything in between or beyond. But it was new to him.

  It was its height that had first drawn him to it. It was hung high on the wall, just beneath the ceiling in the cubby Jorvanultumn was sitting in. It meant he could actually look at something while he was pretending to meditate. But there was more to it that kept him engaged in it.

  On a surface level, it was a straight-forward painting, showing a sunrise over the docks of Quorge. It was pretty, but on first glance nothing deep. But there was more to it. First, whoever had hung it had chosen to do so over a window looking west. That might have been absent-mindedness or short-sightedness on the hanger’s part, but whatever the reason, it added a new layer to the picture: a sunrise occurring in the west or a sunset in the east.

  Of course, none of that was likely the artist’s intention. It was a sunrise, as the docks of Quorge looked mostly east and not west at all. Still, there were other things that added layers, including the use of colour and angles to suggest a slightly less than idyllic scene. However, there was one thing in particular. There was something floating in the water between all the ships. It was a tiny shape, made even tinier by the painting’s height on the wall. Jorvanultumn could not be sure, but after looking at it for some time, he was reasonably certain it was a body.

  Was that why the hanger had hung the painting so high? To hide its morbidity? But if that was a problem, why hang the painting at all?

  Or perhaps Jorvanultumn was just interpreting the tiny spot incorrectly. Perhaps if he saw it up close, it would be clear it was not a body, but something else.

  Maybe. But it was a way of passing time while he pretended to meditate in this thing that was called a cubby, but was really a decent-sized room, just located between two other larger areas.

  The door to Horaz Belone’s rooms was nearby and just off to the side of the cubby, in easy sight of Jorvanultumn if he peered down a little and to the left. He could easily see anyone who came to Horaz’s chambers. More specifically, he could see if anyone came and spoke to Horaz’s valet, seeing as Horaz was not currently in his chambers.

  Unfortunately, apart from a single servant who had done some dusting in the cubby, no one had come by in the hour Jorvanultumn had been here. This was going to be a potentially long wait, something he had known when he had agreed to stake out the valet, but he had not expected it to be a problem. While he did not especially enjoy it, he had done long stretches of meditating before. Indeed, it had been a useful way of passing long hours in the basement of Fra-Mecatl’s home. However, he could not actually meditate here, as he might miss something, and pretending to meditate was actually much harder than just meditating.

  So he kept looking at the painting, trying to find new things in it as time crawled by.

  Over the next hour or so, a guard passed by and some other servants. Then finally, he caught notice of someone through his peripheral vision by Horaz Belone’s door.

  It was Hedromornasta.

  “What are you doing here?” Jorvanultumn asked. Why would Hedromornasta be coming to Horaz Belone’s rooms? Or was he? He was not actually facing the door. He was facing Jorvanultumn. Perhaps her was simply passing and had stopped when he saw Jorvanultumn.

  “I was going to ask you the same question,” Hedromornasta said.

  “I am meditating,” Jorvanultumn said.

  “That was what I came here for.”

  “Why not meditate in your room?”

  Hedromornasta scowled. “Why don’t you?”

  “I don’t have a room,” Jorvanultumn said. “I’m using Sinit?a Alessia Deanna Folith’s room, and it is a busy place. As much as I love her, she is...not quiet.”

  Hedromornasta smirked. “At least you’re using her proper name.”

  “Since she’s not here and you are, I though it best to honour you.”

  Hedromornasta scowled again. “I find it difficult to believe she would be honoured by you butchering her name.”

  “She is human.”

  Hedromornasta rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, and they’re barbarians. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find somewhere else to meditate.”

  Jorvanultumn nodded. “I understand. I can move if you like.”

  “That would be kind of you. Thank you.”

  Standing up, Jorvanultumn said, “I’ve been here awhile. I was about ready to move on anyway. You haven’t told me why you don’t use your room for meditating though.”

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  With a groan, Hedromornasta moved past Jorvanultumn and sat on the bench. “I don’t like my room. It’s too human. Everything is designed for humans. The bed is for humans. The chairs are for humans. All of them have backs. There are no stools or benches. I can’t be comfortable there. So I come here where there is an actual bench and it is quiet. Not many people pass through here.”

  “I did notice that,” Jorvanultumn said.

  “And I like that picture. It looks idyllic at first glance, but there is a body floating in the water. It’s an apt depiction of humanity, if you ask me.”

  Jorvanultumn chuckled.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “I was just contemplating that same picture and the body before you arrived.”

  “I fail to see the humour in that, but fine, whatever.” Hedromornasta let out a long sigh. “I suppose if you want to finish your meditations here, you can. We can meditate beside each other. Just don’t disturb me.”

  With a shrug, Jorvanultumn nodded, and sat down. There was just enough room for both of them if they faced each other so their wings did not get in the way. “Thank you. You know, if you asked Lady Anita Belone, she would probably acquire a bench for your room.”

  Hedromornasta hissed. “And when am I supposed to do that? I barely have time to meditate, eat, and sleep, and I still don’t get enough sleep. I have to spend all my time babysitting Felit?a Asa Folith. Now, you agreed to be quiet and not disturb me.”

  “Yes, sorry.” Jorvanultumn had always had difficulty communicating with Hedromornasta. Though Mikranasta had birthed both of them, Hedromornasta had always seemed so distant, like there was no relation between them at all. It was the gap in their ages. There were thirteen years between them. The two of them might as well have been from different generations.

  They sat there in silence for a while. Jorvanultumn did his best to pretend to meditate and not look at Hedromornasta. Thankfully, Hedromornasta was actually meditating and not paying any attention to Jorvanultumn.

  Perhaps he should leave. It was too awkward between them.

  But then he would be giving up his real reason for being there. Zandrue would understand, he was sure, but nevertheless, he was reluctant to if he did not need to. Now that he was turned on the bench, he was actually directly facing Horaz Belone’s door. He was better off now than he had been before, except that Hedromornasta was right in front of him.

  “You know I don’t question my diare’s decisions,” Hedromornasta said suddenly, “but I think it was a mistake to come here.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t,” Jorvanultumn said.

  “I know. You must know I blame you.”

  “I know.”

  “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have come here. I don’t like the influence you have over her. I am her siare, not you.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not right.”

  “I know.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  Jorvanultumn bowed his head. “Sorry. I’m just trying to indicate that I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “You’re patronising me.”

  “No, I’m—”

  “You think you’re so much superior.”

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “Well, I’m sick of it. You take advantage of my diare’s misplaced affection for you. You and your wingless friends ambush her to make her reverse her wise decision, and of course she gives in, because she always gives in to you.”

  “And it worked.”

  “Felit?a Asa Folith got lucky.”

  “Are you done whining?”

  Hedromornasta jumped to his feet. “Whining?”

  Jorvanultumn jumped to his feet as well. “Yes, whining. It’s all you ever do. Mikranasta is allowed to have affection for others than just you.”

  “She is my diare!”

  “Yes, and she loves you dearly, as much as any diare has ever loved their siare. But that does not mean she is incapable of loving others as well.”

  “She loves you too much.”

  Jorvanultumn took a deep breath. He should not let this argument go on. “Perhaps I should go.”

  With a scowl, Hedromornasta said, “No, I’ll go. I’m getting nothing out of my meditations right now, and I need to sleep.” He shoved Jorvanultumn aside and stomped off.

  Jorvanultumn turned around and placed his left hand over his chest. “May the night be short, Hedromornasta.”

  Hedromornasta did not look back. He just reached his hand behind him, his forefinger and pinky extended, while he stomped out of sight.

  Jorvanultumn shook his head sadly, and sat back down on the bench. He should not be too angry at Hedromornasta. The young Isyar was clearly tired and stressed. And perhaps Mikranasta did show a bit more affection towards Jorvanultumn than was strictly proper.

  With a sigh, he looked back up at the painting and returned to pondering the body in the water.

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