As we walked further from the gate, the streets slowly fed us toward the centre of the city.

  What had seemed organic from afar revealed its design up close. Walkways curved with intention, drawing travellers inward without the need for walls or signs. The flow of people adjusted around Eithna naturally.

  Around me, not quite so much.

  They slowed as they passed, they looked.

  Not openly enough for me to make eye contact, but enough that I could feel the current of it following us, or rather, me.

  News travelled quickly here.

  The building at the heart of it all didn’t rise like a fortress.

  It settled into the space it inhabited, wide and open, its high arches supported by living pillars that spiralled upward into a ceiling of interwoven branches and stone.

  No guards barred the entrance.

  They weren’t needed.

  Everyone behaved as if this place already knew who should be inside.

  I felt the air cool as we crossed the threshold.

  The voices of the crowd seemed to soften into an orderly murmur. Lines curved between the pillars toward a long reception desk where officials spoke quietly with those waiting.

  Waiting.

  I let out a short, quiet laugh to myself.

  I hadn’t imagined destiny would involve standing in line.

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  Eithna gave me a look that just might have been amusement.

  “Stay here,” she said. “I will speak for us first.”

  Ruth leaned lightly against my leg as she moved away.

  I watched her approach the desk, exchange a few quiet words with a woman whose expression remained politely attentive throughout.

  Professional.

  Unmoved.

  Used to this sort of thing.

  After a moment, the woman looked past Eithna.

  At me.

  She raised a hand and beckoned.

  I glanced at Ruth.

  He offered no advice.

  So on I went.

  Up close, the official regarded me with calm efficiency, the way someone might examine paperwork that had arrived in an unusual envelope.

  “Name?” she asked.

  “Dwight,” I said.

  She nodded once, as if confirming something already written.

  “You arrived today.”

  “Yes.”

  Another small nod.

  No surprise. No ceremony.

  Just procedure.

  “You will wait,” she said. “Someone has been informed.”

  Informed.

  I wasn’t sure whether that was good or not.

  Eithna quietly returned to my side as I stepped away from the desk.

  She lowered her voice.

  “They will want to question you,” she said.

  “That sounds reassuring,” I muttered.

  “It is the custom,” she replied. “You are a guest, but you are also unknown.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “And if they push?”

  “They will,” she said. “However they press you, remain courteous.”

  That felt less like advice and more like a rule.

  “Well, now what?” I asked.

  “Well,” she echoed, guiding me toward a seating area set along the wall, “we wait.”

  So wait we did.

  Around us, the hall continued its patient rhythm. Messengers moved in and out. Names were called. Quiet conversations rose and fell like waves against stone.

  And every so often, someone looked at me.

  Trying not to be obvious about it.

  I folded my arms and tried my best to appear like a man who belonged in a place where people were informed about him.

  It was not, I suspected, especially convincing.