33. Au Revoir

X days later, Marwa received word from the Teeth that Amir had been found guilty of all he was accused of. She named her wishes: to have his assets redistrubted with a decent chunk going to Laith, to have him reset, and to be allowed to punch him first.

These were granted.

With Amir's threat finally put to rest, the party began a gradual return to normal.

Cri and Saeldor are the first to head home, with heartfelt thanks to the Noors for their hospitality. As Marwa sees them off, they both express that they're so glad you're finally in the clear. It's a weight off everyone's shoulders.

Mirage gives them both big hugs. "See you soon - for real, this time," she adds with a rueful smile. "Oh, and Cri, sorry again for the state of your living room. You can blame Mika for that."

A few paces behind her, Mika scoffs, biting back an objection that he was sitting inobrusively by the window all night except when he was walking outside, touching nothing.

Cri chuckles, waving off the apology. "Things are only things," she says, "I am glad you both could find some rest during a difficult time."

The gang wave them off as their airship flies south.

Ta'lok insists on leaving on the same ship as Mika and Laith, making straight for the latter's hometown and the sleep-inducing spring within it. But Mika isn't quite through with Julius' journals, or his library in general, and persuades the boss to stick around another day or so to let him finish up. It's not a difficult argument.

But when the journals are read and return, and thorough notes all taken and organized, Mika is out of excuses. Their ride leaves early, but Marwa still meets them at the gates to see them off. Laith gets a big hug and an invitation to visit anytime, which he returns, though admitting his mom's farmhouse is a smidge smaller. He boards the gangplank first, while Ta'lok is gathering up bags.

"See you later, boss, have a safe flight," she says, muffled slightly by hugging a ten-foot minotaur.

"Copy that," Ta'lok replies, shouldering his pack and turning to board via the gangplank.

"Oh, and boss?" Marwa adds, prompting a glance over his shoulder, "Next time, come find your rogue before you head off into trouble, yeah? You're useless without me." She grins.

He grins back, with a salute "Copy that, kiddo."

Marwa turns to look at Mika, who is lingering at the end of the gangplank. "That goes for you, too. Not too much trouble without me, you got it?"

"Aw, you never let me have any fun," he grins.

Marwa is cool as a cucumber, motions like she's going to give him a hug too. He lets her, stepping into it. It's a quick one, but heartfelt

"Write, if you get bored," Marwa says, stepping back. "And I'll write back. Just know that if you encode shit it's going immediately into the fire."

He laughs. "Okay, fine. But I'll make a puzzler out of you, yet."

She smirks. "You already have."

"Yeah," he says, his answering smilewarmer, softer than she expected for a joke, "you're not kidding."

Marwa drops her gaze, digging in her pocket. She hands him something hastily wrapped.

Mika's eyebrows jump. "You have that on you this whole time?"

She smiles, putting a finger to her lips.

"Trade secrets."

She hands it to him underhand, and he slips it in a pocket, but not before looking between it and her, surprised. Marwa is so goddamn sexy when she's being a smooth sneak

"Aw," he snarks, "and I didn't get you anything."

Mirage smiles, congratulating herself on the idea to give this to him as he's leaving so he can't start his reciprocal-obligation-pride-nonsense.

"See you soon."

Mika hesitates, glancing backward where the boss is tapping a foot, audibly.

"Good luck with that," Marwa smirks, nodding to Ta'lok.

"Minuto!" Mika calls over his shoulder, to an answering

"How about 'now-o!'"

Marwa starts stepping back, give a little wave.

Mika drags a hand over his face. When he lets go, his brows are still knit with conflict. He shifts his backpack on one shoulder, waves back and tries a smile, but it's crooked, strained.

"See you later, then." It has the weight of words unsaid.

Then he turns and hustles up the gangplank onto the waiting ship.

It's a six-hour flight to Tifun, and Ta'lok and Mika are in the cabin, chilling. Mika's mulling over one of the ciphers Shiv brought him, and Ta'lok has got a notebook out, updating some logbooks on the party's objectives. It's a companionable silence, but Ta'lok has been waiting for a relatively relaxed moment to catch the Warlock alone.

"Hey. You mind if I ask you a couple questions?"

"Pretty consistently yeah, but you can shoot anyway." The tone's calm, maybe the mildest irritation as he continues tracing the point of a pen across a weird grid of mixed alphabet letters. Then realizes he's not going to be able to work the puzzle and hold a conversation and puts it down, looking up.

Ta'lok doesn't bat an eye at the snark.

"Do you, uh. Do you know what this thing wants from you, in a general sense, or is it kind of random? Stuff that takes you by surprise."

Mika was expecting this topic, but not this question. He meets the boss' eye, guarded. "A bit of both."

Ta'lok notes this, continues.

"Do you consider yourself a flight risk?"

Mika frowns. "Explain."

"You spent some time in the Noor's library, yeah?"

He nods.

"Read anything about a guy named Isaac?"

Mika flinches. "Rings a bell." He pauses, glancing aside. "If you're asking if I'm going to wander off without a word, I don't plan to. But I think we both know it's not always up to me."

Ta'lok nods. "Would you say this thing, whatever it is, talks to you more frequently these days? I don't need to know what about."

Mika looks irritated. "It's not a conversation," he says. "And anyway, I don't know. You ever-" He cuts himself off, looking around the room, thinking, trying to filter the truth into into something parse-able, safe. His eye settles on a faded scar on the boss' shoulder. From an explosion, he'd said once. Deafened the guy behind him.

"It's more like tinnitus," Mika says. "So I don't know. You listen to something 24/7 for a few years and try to gauge if its getting louder."

"So it's a radio frequency that never shuts off?"

"Mighta busted the switch, yeah."

Ta'lok nods, keeps his posture open. "I am gonna ask you this question only to get a read on what we might be dealing with here," he says, watching as the warlock's eyes narrow slightly in a suspicious squint. "I'm not here to judge you or start an argument, or tell you what to do." He pauses. "Has this thing ever asked you to commit acts of violence against a person or living thing?"

Mika's eyes fall to the floor, brows pressing downward in a tight frown. He's been more dutiful than usual with the eye contact but it is Dropped for that. He directs his answer to his hands.

"Yes."

Ta'lok nods. There's sympathy in his eyes, but he's in info-gathering mode, and he's no Cri or Saeldor for this kind of thing. His kindness is polite avoidance, dignity.

"Recently?"

"Does it matter?" Mika's tenor is strained to an alto.

"If you can answer," Ta'lok allows, "I'd like to know."

Mika is wrestling with himself. He knows the boss can't use whatever snowball's chance he has to protect the others if he doesn't know what might happen, but he also knows details on this topic could and probably should force a reevaluation of his continued membership in this team.

Ta'lok waits. He's used to letting Mika think through his responses.

The silence goes on a minute before Mika breaks it, quiet.

"Yes."

Ta'lok nods again.

"Okay."

A look of unease crosses his face before his next question, but he clenches his jaw and takes a breath.

"At the tower. The prison. Did you get the sense that they were involved in... whatever you're involved in?"

"No." Immediate, emphatic, brings his eyes back up. "Same vocation, very different employer."

"Any similarities?"

"You have to ask?"

"Got it." Ta'lok considers, reviewing questions in his mind. He has a lot, but he knows he's running out of time to push before the kid starts locking down.

"How long have you not needed to sleep?"

Mika glances aside, briefly.

"Same day I went to get Marwa."

"I'm sure you looked this up already, because you're a smart kid, but that Isaac guy stopped sleeping around three months before he disappeared. I'm not saying the same thing will happen here, I'm just trying to establish a timeline."

Mika nods, neutral faced.

"Do you get the sense that restraining you - in dire circumstances - would allow you to wait out whatever this thing asks of you? Or is it relentless?"

"No," Mika is shaking his head immediately, "And not because it's polite to buy a fella dinner first. But for starters I don't get a schedule in advance, so unless you're gonna tow me along in shackles, that's an issue by itself. For another, it straight-up wouldn't work." He pauses, thinking.

"I keep telling you all that it's not a conversation," he says, the frustration of this correction lingering over the tone, "its not employment, and there's no contract, but since it seems the preferred metaphor anyway let's lean into it for a sec.

"When I have a job to do, the best thing you can do is get people out of my way. Because the only difference this thing understands between kill, maim, misdirect, is efficiency. An obstacle is the most unsafe thing you or anyone else can be."

Ta'lok nods, there isn't an ounce of braggadocio in the warlock's face, only grim sincerity.

"When you're doing whatever this thing wants you to do," Ta'lok clarifies, "are you more powerful? Magically speaking?"

"If I'm missing something I need, I get it. Sometimes for keeps, but mostly on loan. Otherwise, no."

"Last question. For now."

Relief relaxes Mika's face, his shoulders drop a half-inch.

Ta'lok's mouth lifts up at the corner a little bit, acknowledging how much he's grilling the kid.

"What are your thoughts on Wishes?"

Mika opens his mouth like he has an immediate answer, then he shuts it, considering.

"Made up bullshit," he says, though at a more normal pace than he probably intended initially, "but safe enough to waste time on. That's what I woulda said a few days ago. But I don't know, when a person who remembers the formation of the Material Realms tells you its possible, it seems wise to reassess probability."

"I take it you had a chat with Mirage's mother? Formidable woman."

"Yeah. She comes by a lot of things honestly, it seems."

Ta'lok grins and shakes his head. "Mirage gets it from both sides of her family, I wager. She never had a chance."

Mika's smile is small, and directed to his hands.

And so, neither did I.

"Well I'm gonna do some reading, and then head off to bed." Ta'lok stands, pocketing his logbook. "Keep me informed, if anything comes up."

Mika does a little salute, starts to pick up his puzzle, but then Ta'lok pauses in the doorway, speaking over his shoulder.

"Going to have to give it your best if you want to shake us off, you know that, right?" He rings, "See you in the morning, kid."

Mika manages a smile as the door closes.

Mika is having trouble focusing on the cipher, and absent any unread research to consider, decides to try and distract himself with a walk about the deck.

The Aurian winds are as constant and cold as ever. As he shrugs into his coat, his hand brushes over a hard rectangle in the pocket, and in a flash of memory he realizes he still hasn't opened it. Didn't want to with the boss or Laith around, but he's alone now.

He finds a place between the cabin and the railing, and looks at it. The box is small, a little longer than the length of his hand, and a few inches wide. It's wrapped in twine with a ridiculous number of knots. He considers cutting them, but the distraction is helpful, so he puzzles through enough to slide the lid loose. A little card slides out when it does.

The lettering is Aurian;

May the winds bring us together again.

PS:

I know you don't need it, but just in case.

Inside the box glimmers a small silver dagger. It's narrow and short enough to fit in a boot. The blade looks silvered, paler than the steel of the guard, which is warmed with spider-thin threads of gold. The grip is supple leather, but the pommel curves ever so slightly in the shape of a falcon's head. It's resting atop a sheath of the same leather. Dark, subtle, a steel tip and muffled edge.

Mika stares at it. Looks at the note, back at the knife, and back again. Gives a breathless, single-syllable laugh, amazed, shaken, seen. He shakes his head, looking over the ship's side at the huge expanse of blue between the ship he's on and the estate she's in, knowing exactly what she's done, that she knew he'd never let her give him anything this nice in person, that every prideful reflex in him would refuse. He feels like he's going to burst because goddamnit that's a smart workaround she's so smart and she knows me so well AUGH.

Letting his breath out in exasperation, runs a thumb over the hilt, tracing the sleek lines of the falcon it resembles. His chest tightens. He's never felt so seen, so understood. It's the most thoughtful thing he's ever been given, on so many levels. She's not just referencing his name, she's tied it in with his self; with something sharp, hidden, shaped for conflict, but also something given in care and connection, something reflective of a hopeful future, something to bring him through the dark and fearful.

He looks over the side, back in the direction they came. He wants wings so he can rush right back there and plant one on her, which as he thinks it he realizes would be confusing for her, but whatever, he could explain after. It's hard to feel any trepidation at the moment.

This is not helping my focus, damnit.

With completing the cipher firmly off the list of feasible options for passing the evening, he finds a place on the deck where he won't accidentally cut anything important, and attempts some of the solo training he learned instead.

Marwa is restless not long after the crew leaves. She fills her days with lots of training with Baba, she puts her time in at the library with Dad - she gives it her all when it comes to the construction of her mind Fury, thinking about the real ship, remembering all the nooks and crannies. She spends lots of evenings on the roof, practicing, getting to know her own thoughts.

But she's impatient, and irritable at times. She's not short with her parents or anyone else, but they can tell she's frustrated at not having a lead yet.

Lydia catches her on the roof one night, floating silently towards her and says, "Thinking about that boy, are you?"

"What? What boy?"

Lydia gives her a head tilt and a patient expression. there's some nonverbal communication that passes between the Noor women. Lydia doesn't deign to answer because Marwa knows exactly who she's referencing, and they don't need to do this whole back and forth thing.

"I'm just worried, is all," Marwa relents, "Last time we all split up - things went sideways. What if something happens to them when they're on the road?"

Lydia nods in empathy. "Things happen all the time, habibi, and we almost never anticipate them. You must flow with them, or fly against them, when you can."

"I know, I know. I just. I'm not good at waiting."

"Why don't you write to them? I can send that Mika of yours some snacks I made special for him, too."

"What? Jesus Mama, he's not my Mika, and I feel like you almost offended the guy with how much you tried to get him to eat."

"Well that's because he is too skinny, and because he is important to you so he is important to me."

That gets an eye roll.

"And because he has a big fight ahead, and he should have good food in his belly when he prepares."

Lydia leans over and gives Marwa a hug, which Marwa begrudgingly returns

"Write to them. Tell them all how much you miss them, and that your mother says hello." Her smile turns mischievous, "And tell Mika that I'm rooting for you two."

Marwa squawks.

"WHASLIJEDAFLSKJDF"

"Don't make those faces at me, habibi," Lydia chides, "we all saw you blush across the dance hall, clear as day."

Marwa is just making animal noises, plugging her ears

"I believe he loves you too, if that helps."

"LA LA LA LA I'M NOT LISTENING, GO AWAY MAMA"

'Very well, I will leave you be. Nimbus, keep an eye on her for me, will you?'

Lydia floats away, message delivered.

I think it takes a while for Marwa's cheeks to cool, but I think she admits to herself, maybe just a little... that she misses him. And she looks up at the stars and thinks about that dance again.

And bites her lip and whispers to Nimbus, "Hope he likes the dagger."