Walking among the palm trees festooned with mossy vines and big ribbony orchids of the Luxury Heights Hotel, you'd notice a toucan preening on a branch or a monkey swinging from tree to tree, and they were so well made you'd believe they were real animals, except it made far more sense for them to be magical illusions. After all, those wouldn't stay hidden out of sight or bite your guests or make anybody slip on their poop.

  Those fake animals and the magnificent carved ebony door were more than enough to let me know this was a highfalutin establishment, but someone up high didn't seem to be so confident, because the doors opened all by themselves as we approached, silent and ponderous. Someone had to mantain this spell so that the door wouldn't forget it after opening and closing so many times. Rich people really will pay for the weirdest shit.

  At least there weren't any animals crawling over the lobby, just illusions of falling sunlight across the walls and rippling water beneath our feet. An actual fountain whispered softly.

  I was tired and hungry and thirsty so I stood back and let Valentino check us in. The clerk's clipped accent reminded me that mine already stood out, and it'd only become more btant as we reached the capital. Especially in fancy pces like this one.

  I guess it's because I was tired, or maybe just distracted, but when our elevator went up, my knees buckled and I almost kissed the floor. Valentino caught my arm before I fell, though to be fair, my ego would've been hurt worse than anything else. Look, it's silly to be surprised by an elevator, but I wasn't used to the feeling of being suddenly lifted up from below.

  "Man, you sure earn your pay," I said.

  He barely lifted the corner of his mouth. "Wouldn't you say I deserve a raise, Your Excellency?"

  "If I can, I'll make sure you get one. Deal?"

  He looked straight ahead. "Of course, Your Excellency knows better."

  We got a sparsely elegant room, mostly bck and white, with only a few framed paintings in the way of decoration—reproductions, of course. (That is, unless you counted the inevitable winged tiger as part of the decoration. But why would you?) We had two beds and an ensuite bathroom, which I suppose was downright custrophobic for rich person standards. Later Valentino told me there were suits in this same hotel with five bedrooms and a sitting room and dining room and an even rger bathroom, but those were legally reserved for the Megarchon's family and I didn't have the brand proving my affiliation. Nobody had cared enough to give me one, you see. Can't say I felt bad about it.

  Valentino sat on his bed, flipping papers he'd grabbed from a basket near the door. Of course, that's where they put the menus. "Does Your Excellency wish to order?"

  "Anything's fine as long as it's filling."

  Because I was His Excellency, I got to shower while Valentino ordered. Though he didn't have to wait too long, seeing how I was used to cleaning up quick, without wasting water. Not that the hotel would've cared. The tiny soap was green, but I still sniffed it to make sure it wasn't rose-scented before using it. Smelled of apples. That I could live with.

  I left the bathroom wearing a fresh pair of underwear, an unbuttoned shirt, and Vanth's locket and bracelet, with the clothes I'd worn going in bundled up under my arm. Valentino, who'd just re-entered the room, stopped himself on the way to one of the couches, and searched the closet.

  "For the undry, Your Excellency." I accepted a bag from him and wasted no time in fattening it up. "I'll let room service know it must be returned no ter than tomorrow night, just in case."

  "Thanks. Y'know, you could've made a mint as one of those, hmm, what they're called? Valets? Do rich people still have valets?"

  Valentino ughed, waving me off as he entered the bathroom. "I'm afraid that's far beyond my paltry skills. But I thank Your Excellency all the same."

  Our window let in the afternoon light. Seeing how I'd wanted to go into the city that day, I'd put on a light green shirt I rather liked. I poured myself a gss of cool water, added a pair of burnt-orange pants, and went to open the window and lean out. It's a good thing I'm not afraid of heights, because we were pretty cursedly high. A kidney-shaped swimming pool wrapped itself around the fake jungle. Some mites in colorful swimsuits spshed around. Other than that, I could only see the colorful marquee of what looked like a theater, some of the endless shopping district at the southeast, and past that, a brown-yellow line that had to be the faraway desert. That line of angry grey clouds in the southwest was still trying to catch up with us. If we couldn't fly away before it arrived, we might have to wait it out.

  Valentino showered as fast as you could hope from someone with that much hair, so when he came out I was still sitting on the windowsill. He came to stand by my side, half-dressed in a fresh uniform.

  "The rooms with the good views are the ones facing the tepuys, Your Excellency. They're a bit more open to danger though. Our window doesn't look toward Vorsa, so it doesn't invite anything dangerous right into our midst. Of course the room is warded, but one should never entrust their safety to such generic measures."

  I looked. The window frame was carved all over with a protective inscription, the letters tightly packed one next to the other. After touching it I was greeted by the slight tingle of an active spell.

  "Good job, Sergeant Vargas."

  Valentino saluted me with a smile.

  After that, I had nothing more to do than sip water and read the paper as I waited for our meal to be delivered. Valentino and me passed loose pages back and forth over the coffee table, until room service arrived and I went to tip them. I thought there'd be a tray, like in the fancy hotels my lovers had taken me to. Instead there was a whole cart piled up with trays of food and a coffee service of gleaming porcein that looked as if it'd shatter if you sneezed at it.

  "They have set times for every meal," Valentino expined. "Afternoon is tea time, so I couldn't order lunch. But I made sure to order a couple of dishes that sounded filling enough with our coffee."

  "Ah." I lifted a crystal bell, uncovering a big steaming pie of mouthwatering aroma. "Oh, that looks amazing."

  "Let's see." Valentino read from the menu. "Caiman meat in crumbly cassava dough, with saffron and and zucchini and fennel, cherry tomatoes and boiled eggs for decoration—chicken ones."

  "Sounds good." I'd expected the chicken eggs. They have a less acid taste than mitema ones. City people prefer them, naturally. If you're used to mitema eggs, though, you might find the chicken variety a bit bnd. But they're filling as per my request, and at that point, that's all I cared about.

  I cut the pie as Valentino poured coffee for both of us. The service was elegantly decorated with jungle vines and flowers—I kinda had to respect their devotion to theme. It came with a small fat milk jug and a tiny sugar bowl. There was also a water bottle, a jar of breadsticks, and many pots of different-fvored dips. The dips weren't bad, but to my taste they cked spice. Valentino seemed really fond of the avocado one, so I let him have it.

  The pie, on the other hand, was just as good as its scent promised. I don't know what I expected from caiman meat; probably something acrid and tough. But of course it wasn't like that. It was mild and lean, fried with olive oil and its accompanying veggies till it was thorougly soaked in fvor. The saffron was only a hint, but it really made the whole thing come together. I ate so much, I thought I wouldn't have room for any of the fat round pastries, all colorfully and thickly frosted and covered in sprinkles and hiding generous gobs of jam in their bellies. Both of us ended up eating a couple, though. You can see why we didn't exchange as much as ten words till our second coffee cup.

  "Do you think I could mail some parcels to my family before our flight leaves?" I asked.

  "I don't see why not. Even if the mail office isn't open in the evening, it'll be open tomorrow."

  "Then I should really go shopping today. I'd forgotten the shops are always open in big cities like this one."

  Valentino looked at his pocket watch. "It's past four. At this time, I can't imagine there'd be any shops still closed. The restaurants and bars will remain open through the night, too."

  "I should buy myself one of those while I'm there."

  As we walked down the hotel's front steps, we crossed paths with a woman in a dress of sea-green silk, her hair wrapped up in a matching turban. The fabric glowed with gold and silver lights. She was surrounded by a half-dozen women in grey suits who looked ready to squash any disturbances like so many bugs.

  I pretended not to notice, but from the corner of my eye saw the green woman looking at Valentino's uniform and then at me.

  "Betcha she's wondering why you're so casual with the cattle-rustler you caught," I whispered to Valentino.

  "I can't really cim Your Excellency doesn't resemble a cattle-rustler," Valentino whispered back. "But I've never seen one."

  I smiled at him.

  Now that I walked around instead of rushing through, the cobblestone streets felt even more crowded. Far more ilimec-drawn carts and carriages than I'd ever seen, fast sleek ones and creaky weathered ones and small cabriolets like our own and elegantly carved and painted ones. There was such a stink of ilimec all around us. Pedestrians everywhere, and even more cyclists, darting in between the carriages as if that wasn't especially bold. Bicycles looked handy, but cked the aristocratic aura that came with having a means of transportation that constantly shits on your surroundings. That sends out a strong message.

  All the big corners had a traffic guard in a bottle green uniform fshing colored lights so you'd know when to stop and go. And since it was inevitable not to stop and wait at some point, all big corners had colorful flowery arches perfuming the air over your head. And also, I found out as we waited, music streamed out of them. Simple tunes, the kind you'd learn when beginning to py a string instrument. There were no musicians lurking among the petals, just many delicate orange and red butterflies. These were the famous singing butterflies, bespelled to make a musical sound as they fluttered their wings.

  Following the main avenue back to the southeast, we naturally ended up in the shopping district once more. It was intentionally easy to reach, you see. The sidewalks broadened so you could go everywhere carrying an armful of bags. Just so you wouldn't miss the point, nearly every shopfront had tiny sparks hovering around their wares, highlighting new or expensive products. I couldn't even say this was unnecessary, because there was just so much stuff in dispy.

  Most shops seemed to be ridiculously specific: one sold only crystalware of every imaginable kind. Another one, mattresses and pillows. Another one, stationary and pens. No wonder the district felt endless. And winged tigers gred at you from every one of them. I tried to ignore them, but they were very conspicuously pced. It didn’t matter if they cshed with the cozy homemade feeling those cured hams and jars of pickled stuff were supposed to give off, or if they very awkwardly hung from a sofa’s back. It was already as bad as the capital.

  But never mind that. The real question was: where to begin?

  I stopped at a particur shop. "Look, it's all watches and clocks. I didn't know there were so many different kinds."

  "That's nothing, Your Excellency. In the capital some rich people will change their watches to match their outfits."

  "You just made that up."

  "Unlikely. I don't have much of an imagination."

  A doorbell tinkled as we entered. I breathed in metal and wood; a very expensive scent. One of the two clerks was free, so he turned to greet me. The smile fell off his face the second he actually saw me. I could almost hear the thoughts running through his head: what was this pauper doing in their fine shop? Should he call a guard? But wait, that was a guard right behind me! Heavens, was this a criminal?

  I grinned even bigger than the clerk had, waving at him like a loon. "Hi there! Yes, you! I've come to buy a watch! What would be a good watch, in your opinion? Is this one any good? How 'bout this one?"

  The clerk was clearly more interested in getting rid of me than in answering my questions. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't working. He tried to catch Valentino's eye, but my Sabrewing was very interested in the clocks at the back. I have to say, they were really worth examining, with their beautifully carved wood paneling and delicately painted decorations. I think they had some of those tiny figures that come out when the hour strikes, but they didn't come out during our visit.

  Despite the clerk's attempts, and despite his coworker coming soon to provide reinforcements, I found a pocket watch I really liked, and loudly demanded to see what it looked in a matching chain.

  Both clerks brightened up as if they'd seen rainclouds after a drought.

  "Certainly!" said the first one. "That'll be two hundred nureals. But we must ask that you pay upfront."

  "Yeah, sure!" I took my checkbook out of my pocket and made a show of flipping through it. "Do you have change, though? This is a lot!"

  Both of the clerks struggled not to gape at me like fishes.

  "By the way, why are people so rude over here?" Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell both clerks were about to crawl out of their skins in shame. "We arrived earlier this afternoon, and some guards stopped us in the middle of the street. Looks like they mistook us for criminals or something? I don't know why, all I could see around were some factories that seemed to be closed up. Do you know anything about that?"

  The first clerk adjusted his cravat. "The city intendant is responsible for those measures. That's as far as I know. But I'm sure everything will be fixed promptly and efficiently."

  Good dodge.

  Valentino showed me how to wear my new watch, and I made a point of taking it out and checking the hour all the time. Its golden shine sure stood out next to my faded and patched work clothes.

  My passage through the shopping district left a wake of upset and bewildered clerks behind it. All of them reacted pretty much the same way, which is exactly what I wanted. As long as they were busy trying to chase this weird pauper out of their fine shop, and then by realizing the weird pauper was richer than them, they'd be too distracted to notice I was taking a good look around. Because, no matter how much the intendant and the shop owners and the governor himself pretended everything was fine, the strike had gone on for almost a month. The supply chain had to be strained, to say the least.

  That's how it worked in theory, but in the practice I couldn't notice anything remarkable. Maybe it's just that I cked context. After all, to me sparkling clean water coming from every tap was a luxury, but these city-dwellers wouldn't even notice unless it turned yellow-brown like at home. Maybe everything looked neat and fancy to me, but they felt the sky was about to fall.

  broccolifloret