< Good morning, Escalus. >

Numair sat at a small table, reading from a sheaf of notes. On the table was a large dish, displayed vertically with the concave interior pointed at him; it was wired to a small perch on which Sraddi waited silently.

< This is Cynn Numair d'Escala with my usual R.I.T. report broadcast, > Numair said. < Before we start, I have something to discuss. 

< In the early morning hours yesterday, a resident of our city was murdered. >

The keys turned out to be a couple of notched cards on a lanyard. A keychain in the shape of a little hedgehog-like creature rested on the ground with the cards.

< By now, you may have heard quite a few exaggerated details, but the truth is horrific enough: she was decapitated, and her head was left on display at Escala's feet in the fountain plaza. >

All they had to do was hold one of the cards up to the door, and it released with a little ringing sound. Hawk slid the door open, and he and Liya, along with another fuzhu and one of the spirits who had been present at Suyan's memorial the day before, peered in.

< I am choosing to ignore the political implications of this, as I do not find them worth addressing publicly. Instead, i would like to tell you a little bit about this resident. >

They entered the little flat carrying bins and baskets. It was not an untidy place; everything in it was situated on the floor or on low tables that a fuzhu could reach easily. The most cluttered surface was a little table covered in books and jars full of mushrooms and other small implements. 

< Xue Xuan, known as Suyan to her Escalan friends and neighbors, immigrated to Aetheri eight years ago from Shanxi, China, on Earth. She was a scholar in residence in the Department of Mycology and Botany at the University at Escalus, where her work focused on mycological husbandry. Her colleagues describe her as very bright and very enthusiastic. She loved mycology, a field that is centuries more advanced here than on Earth. >

There were framed photos on the walls: a family of four fuzhu, two of them young enough to only have button antlers, clustered together and smiling, next to two smaller portraits of people who looked human enough.

Something was scratching at a closed door that led to another room, and letting out occasional yowls. As the fuzhu and the two spirits considered the rest of the flat, Hawk and Liya went to the door. Liya was carrying a large cylindrical basket, which she removed the lid from as Hawk prepared to open the door.

< Suyan was quite reserved, but her neighbors recall her as pleasant and kind. She was a great lover of animals and often fed the rit in her neighborhood. She was a member of her district's cleanup committee and accessibility council. She was a good neighbor and a good Aetherian, but even if she had not been, she deserved better than the fate she met here. >

Liya crouched down and positioned the basket and lid in front of the door, as Hawk swung it inward. There was a commotion, a loud yowl, and the two spirits looked over to see Liya hastily closing the lid back on the basket.

< Like many Earthlings, she came here in search of a gentler life: clean air and water, a slower pace, and the quiet dignity that we Aetherians work hard to enjoy. >

With the basket set aside, and its contents complaining on occasion, the five of them went to work cleaning out the rest of the flat. Jars were wrapped and set into padded bins; papers were sorted and packed.

< To come here in search of something that we as Aetherians have agreed for millennia is everyone's right, and to be viciously denied that for the crime of being from somewhere or of something else, is both deeply saddening, and deeply enraging. >

The bins were then put onto carts that waited right outside the door. A bird-headed, four-legged animal stood patiently in its ties in front of one of the carts, as the bins were arranged and strapped down.

< Suyan's killers are members of what I maintain is a minority in Aetheri: the fearful, jealous, angry and small. >

When all was said and done, they stood for a time outside the now closed-up flat, chatting. Hawk took the keys and placed them up above the door, in a potted plant that sat on a thin reed shelf.

< They behave in ways we regularly denounce as exclusive to other societies, while claiming themselves to be the truest Aetherians. >

The spirits and the fuzhu left with one of the carts, while Hawk and Liya went in another direction. Liya carried the cylindrical basket with its now-silent passenger strapped to her back, while Hawk had taken one of the jars, which had a little stand of slender mushrooms growing in it.

< But I know the hears of the truest Aetherians, and they are open, welcoming, curious, and kind. >

Hawk and Liya walked past the memorial for Suyan, which had only grown since the evening before. The mural above the window had been completed: a portrait of Suyan in a field of stars, between twin crescent moons, with a caption in Aetherian. Notes were now stuck to the walls around the window, and someone had left a stuffed animal next to the buckets of flowers and foliage.

< The Escalan Investigative Bureau has charge over this murder case, > Numair continued. < They are full of competent detectives and spellwrights who are eminently capable of solving this crime. I expect, > and he leaned on the word, < that they will treat this case with all the care that it is due, and that Treiha Sirse will keep me personally up to date on their progress.

< In the meantime, please look after yourselves and your neighbors, > he concluded quietly. < Thank you. I'll continue on to my usual report now. >

"I couldn't get to sleep earlier," Numair said. "I kept thinking about that poor fuzhu, and what I could possibly say about them. It feels wrong to do my broadcast in the morning without saying something...but the report they sent this morning didn't even include her name. Surely they've found out more about her by now?"

Hawk was still ostensibly staring at the notebook, but his recently transformed arm was wrapped around Numair, and he felt every place where they met: the weight of Numair's head on his shoulder, Numair's dark hair tickling his bicep, his forearm cradling Numair's scarred back, their fingers entwined loosely at Numair's waist.

"Oh, wull." He flipped the notebook closed with one hand. Numair raised his head a little to see Hawk looking at the ceiling wearily. He said, "I can tell you all about her."

Numair looked at him quietly with a slight, discerning frown. "I trust you," he said finally, and continued making himself comfortable against Hawk's side. Then he added, "...It might be the same for me, you know, at times. There will be things you'll be all the safer for not knowing."

"I trust you," Hawk echoed without hesitating. "We're equal."

"Yes." Numair adjusted himself, and retrieved the notebook that had been resting on his lap while he'd slept, which had ended up shunted somewhere in the bed as they'd laid down together. "...I suppose it's just as well," he said ruefully. "I couldn't think of a way to get the weapon to the Treiha without getting you involved. I wouldn't want to put you under their eye even if we didn't have our 'secret' to keep."

"Hey, I thought you said no more working in bed?" Hawk asked lightly, as Numair brought the notebook into view.

"Oh, this isn't work." Numair gave him the notebook, open about halfway through; Hawk raised it up to look at the contents. "I noticed Sraddi's glamour is wearing a bit thin, so I was making notes on some other things I wanted to fix for her." He added in a mutter, "...Whenever I've got time again."

As Hawk wordlessly studied the notebook, Numair settled down with his cheek pressed against Hawk's skin. He murmured, "You know, I sent a message to the Investigators' Bureau hours ago and they haven't bothered to reply."

Hawk was at the end of the bed, leaning in under the canopy, a towel tucked around his waist and a smaller cloth over his damp hair. He grinned sheepishly. "I was tryin' to be quiet."

"Ah, no," Numair demurred, "The storm woke me up--oh." He spotted the somewhat guilty look that came over Hawk's face. "Never mind."

Hawk laid down on the bed on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. He gave Numair an unconvincing sort of smile; Numair studied him, concerned.

"All right," he said, "you're a bit upset. What's happened?"

Hawk laid back on the pillows, discarding the cloth that had been covering his already-drying hair. "Wull, I couldn't get the machete back, for one," he admitted.

Numair stared blankly for a moment. "Oh, right," he said, remembering. Hawk had to maneuver out one wing from under him, laying it flat across the bed and allowing Numair to crawl onto it and into his outstretched arm. As Numair did, he asked, "Why couldn't you?"

Hawk hesitated. "If I tell you that it's safer for you to not know why," he said, "can you jus' trust me on that?"

Almost instantly, the feathers and striped skin and talons burst away from Hawk's arm; half of it dissolved into light, leaving only a smattering of stray feathers and the hard tips of the talons. Hawk felt at his throat and turned his right arm this way and that, unsettled, but every part of him had gone completely back to normal without issue.

The leftover feathers were blowing gently away from the balcony. Hawk leaned over the railing to see them drift down along the walls, into the darkness, and muttered, "Aw, shit."

Numair had fallen asleep half-propped up in bed, with a little notebook open in his lap and a pen still barely held in his lax fingers. A lamp glowed wanly on the shelf above his head, and he snored softly.

Suddenly he jerked awake, as if someone had clapped next to his head; he sat up instinctually, rumpled and bleary-eyed and confused.

"Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Do I make my peace an' ascend to heaven, or what?

Hawk saw Emry as he'd left him: standing in front of the crooked little house with the overgrown grass, under a heavy grey sky. The unbidden memory caused the feathers on Hawk's next to bristle, and he grimaced, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

"Knock it off," he muttered, and breathed out long and slow, focusing instead on his changed arm. In its place he traced out the way it was supposed to look--the brown skin, the tense of his muscles, the shape of his fingers.

A deep blue twilight had settled in by the time Hawk reached the balcony; the sky still had the faintest of orange glows, clear but for a couple wisps of clouds, turning the distant ground below into a featureless dark plain. Light from the last of the sun and from the balcony door scattered over the railings and eaves and the vines framing it all, just enough to see.

Hawk landed but didn't go in. Instead he stripped off his jacket, draped it over the railing, and looked at his right arm.

His hand had been replaced by a massive taloned paw; his arm was striped black over a yellow that seemed to glow very softly in the dim. A thick ruff of dark grey feathers started at his elbow and ran up to his neck, bursting from under the sleeve of his shirt. More feathers prickled on his cheek and along his jaw.

He was silent, though sweat beaded down his face, and the wicked talons shook. He shut one eye and set his mouth.

So what happens next?

"Wow," Vlad said after a time. "Instant dispersal on contact. How did you--"

"I gotta leave," Hawk said. He had not risen from his crouched position, and didn't turn his face back to Vlad either, his wings slightly unfurled.

"Huh?" Vlad blinked at him, replacing his glasses. "But--"

"I gotta leave now, Vlad."

And without a look back, he took off from his crouch, kicking up a cloud of dirt that trailed after him and a gust that buffeted the people on the ground. In a wingbeat he was above the buildings, a silhouette in the dusky sky.

Vlad's glasses were on crooked; he put his hands on his hips, and said to no one in particular, "I really wish he wouldn't do that."

In the dusk, the ghost of Suyan with her foot raised looked as solid and present as anything.

< There's still a chance that I'll just wake up, > she said, her voice giving her away. < and all of this really was just a bad dream. >

Without waiting for Hawk to reply, she put her hoof into his palm, and it was just as he'd said: they touched, and she went. The form that had seemed solid a moment ago shone and bled into light that beaded up and evaporated, like bright bubbles that were carried up through the alley and above the rooftops and away.

The gathered people watched this silently, some of them waving after the disintegrating light. Hawk stayed crouched for the moment, a residual few specks of light still scattering out of his shaking palm, which had gone dark and clawed.

< Only if you are really sure... > Hawk trailed off. As he stilled and the many heads and arms seemed to resolve some, so too did the silhouettes of people press in again on them both, featureless and silent. Suyan shied away from these.

< ...I am really sure, > she replied, seeming a little unnerved again. She turned to Hawk. < Er...how does this work? >

< I touch, > Hawk said, and hesitated, before offering one or many huge taloned paws to her. < And then you go. >

< I see. In that case... > Suyan raised one of her four-toed hooves to place it in Hawk's offered palm. < I am glad to have met you, Hawk. And, who can say...? >

Hawk glanced up at her. The people behind him watched in silent interest.

< It's strange, > Suyan said, and got to her feet. < The more I talk, the stranger it feels. >

< What strange? > Hawk asked.

< I keep noticing things. Like how hard I have to concentrate in order to really see anything. > She put her face close to the ground, and it was only with her muzzle an inch from the moss and bits of grass poking through the stones that any of it came into any kind of focus. Then she started to pace again, along the length of Hawk's tail, which snaked in vague lines over the otherwise featureless ground. Casting a look up, she continued, < But even then, I can't really see the sky. I don't know what time it is, but I must have been here a long time. And if I lose my concentration, I keep thinking...I really ought to find my keys and go home. >

She'd looked down at the ground again as if searching, but then stopped, and glanced back at him.

< You say it isn't a dream, but it really does feel like one: a sad, boring frightening dream. > Her brow knit. < But either way, I'm ready for it to be over. >

So Hawk and Vlad stayed as the day wore on and the shadows in the alleyway shifted. Others came and went, bringing flowers and other items to lay beneath one of the windows of the glassworks; a pair of aproned workers appeared out of the glassworks and brought stools for Hawk and Vlad. Suyan kept roaming around, seeming unable to settle, as she told Hawk--and through him, the many visitors--about the University, and how she passed by Palma's every day, and how her parents were still in Shanxi, and her favorite syia vendor. Occasionally she would start looking on the ground again, unaware of the people milling around or the objects they left behind.

It was only once the alleyway was fully in shadow, towards evening, that she finally laid down with her legs tucked beneath herself, next to Hawk. The window had been turned fully into a memorial by now; the sill was laid with flowers arranged around glass tapers that substituted for candles. There was burning incense, an open book, a plate of fresh fruit, and the beginnings of a mural above the window, painted by a person who stood on stilts to reach it. Suyan had been quiet for a while, but the visitors there spoke to each other instead, discussing how to reach out to Suyan's family and what they could do to keep tabs on each other.

Suyan was staring up. Except for Hawk's endlessly shifting form, there was nothing.

Finally, she said, < ...I think I'm ready for this to be over. >

"Awright, I guess that settles it," Hawk said, and ducked down to address Suyan again. < It is okay, > he told her, and the faint suggestion of the alleyway around them and the crowd behind Hawk swam into view. < We will stay with you until you are ready. >

Hawk turned to see that some of the little crowd had drawn closer: not just other fuzhu like Suyan, studded in various piercings and bearing leather bags set on various light harnesses, but spirits as well.

"Everyone in the neighborhood liked Suyan," one of the fuzhu told Hawk, having to crane their head to look up at him.

"Lovely child," a spirit next to them murmured, nodding.

"But she always kept to herself," the fuzhu continued. "So..."

"It's a bit embarrassing to admit it," another fuzhu chimed in, "but I suppose none of us really knew her. I guess what we're getting at is, would you be willing to stay and help us talk to her a while longer?"

Hawk hesitated. A third fuzhu put in, "Yes, I think we'd all like to be able to remember Suyan properly."

"And get to know her before it's too late!" added a robed spirit who had been standing back, but now drew in a little closer.

"Yes, yes..." there was a murmur of agreement.

Hawk sighed. He turned to Vlad.

"What about you?" he asked. "Someone else can pr'y translate if you wanna go. You look kinda tired."

"Oh, I've been awake for thirty-two hours!" Vlad said brightly. His collar was still rumpled, and there was a touch of exhaustion in his face. Even so, he said, "But miss watching you interview a ghost? I'd kill me if Shinobu doesn't!"

< I can, uh, > Hawk hesitated. < Let you go, if you are ready. >

< O-oh. > Suyan seemed a little taken aback. < ...Just like that? >

< It can be later! > Hawk said hastily. < I can come back later-- >

< No! > Her response came more forcefully and fearfully than she'd maybe meant it to, because she then stammered, < I...I mean... >

She glanced away from Hawk, though her big dark eyes didn't seem to rest any place in particular. < Please, don't leave me here alone, > she said softly. < Even if it is a dream, it's still very creepy. I can't even tell what color the sky is. >

Hawk looked up. The sky was still a dry blue, with thin clouds drifting across it.

Someone from behind him spoke up then. "Excuse me..."

A series of faces turned back to Suyan. "Oh, uh..." Hawk fumbled for a moment. The silhouette next to him had lost its clarity and was now a formless body and head. < I am new at Aetherian. I need help to say to you. The neighbors are here. They will help after you. > He paused, "Uh," and then tried to clarify, < your home and your family. And we look for who does this. >

Someone said something next to him.

< Did this, > Hawk corrected himself. < Sorry. Do you understand? >

Suyan stared at him for a long moment with a strange look on her face, a creeping sort of concern. < ...Oh, but... > she said, glancing around, < ...I don't see anyone, Hawk-- >

"I don't see anyone, Hawk," Liya echoed, giving him a worried side-eye. Emry rolled his eyes.

"That's 'cuz there's nothing there," he said impatiently, gesturing, and the gesture became an upraised hand, and there was a sudden shriek--

"STOP IT!"

But it all did stop immediately, zipped up somewhere in the lines that etched Hawk's shifting heads, and he recoiled, and so did Suyan.

< A-ah, s-sorry... >

< No, no, > Hawk said quickly. < I mean to say... > He seemed to need to search harder for the words now, punctuating each sentence with a pause. < It is okay. And you are not stuck here. >

< B-but I can't be dead. > Suyan's voice was starting to shake. < I have to finish my thesis. A-and who would take care of Pípi and my terrariums?? What about my flat? I don't have anyone here who can... >

Hawk didn't answer.

< ...What about my...my b-body? > Suyan asked. Tears were beginning to fall from her eyes now, though they didn't seem to go anywhere exactly. Hawk tried to break in, but only got out an uncertain 'uh' before Suyan continued, more desperately with each sentence, < Who's going to tell my parents?? Am I just s-stuck here like this forever-?! >

< Please wait, > Hawk finally said, holding up one taloned finger. The myriad parts of him seemed to curl in on themselves then, and the figure that had been vaguely present at his shoulder gained a somewhat sharper clarity. At the same time, as Suyan waited, more shapes swam into a sort of view: ranged behind Hawk to either side, the impression of heads and shoulders, featureless and fading against the uniform backdrop.

She took a step back, a look of terror coming over her.

< ...Is someone else here? >

"Uh, I mean..." Hawk corrected himself, < Yes. I am sorry. >

Suyan stared, her face etched in awful relief. Then, slowly, she shook her head, and her features began to soften again.

< No, > she said, and started to look around. < This must be a dream. I've had dreams just like this. >

Hawk said nothing, the expression on his many faces inscrutable, shifting between looking at Suyan and at the vague shape at his shoulder. Suyan started to pace again, lowering her head to search the gutter.

< I have them all the time, > she went on. < I'm looking for something...and if I can find it, I'll wake up. >

< ...It is not a dream, > Hawk said.

< Yes it is, > Suyan insisted. < Sometimes I even know it's a dream while I'm in it, like this. >

She paused at looked at Hawk, at the mass of moving shapes, which seemed to have withdrawn on itself away from her some. For a beat he hesitated, seeming to struggle with what to say.

< I-I'm sorry, > he managed. < I don't know how to say else. It's true, you are dead. >

"She did not see their faces any more than Hawk and Teige could," Luu mused to Vlad. No one around them seemed to notice their conversation, too busy murmuring amongst themselves. "...One of them cut their hand, but a healer could have fixed that by now...but if we could get into the crime scene, perhaps they left blood behind."

Vlad was still trying to clear his ears. "What about the knife?" he asked. "Or that ring?"

"The knife looked like an ordinary straight ceramic blade. But the ring...maybe we--"

Suyan's thin voice drew a hush over Luu and Vlad and everyone else.

< ...Am I...dead? >

Hawk had not said anything since Suyan had finished her recollection; he hadn't even looked around at the crowd, and he didn't now. Instead, he heaved a deep sigh.

"Yeah," he said.

Suyan fell silent, and the recollection ended. She bowed her head.

Hawk sighed. Behind him, the little crowd began to murmur at each other, unsettled by whatever they had just seen or heard.

"That was interesting to watch," Luu remarked at Hawk's shoulder. "You did not even need Vlad for that part."

Vlad massaged his eardrum with the tip of one finger as if to clear it. "I think that was the weirdest thing I've ever experienced," he said, looking puzzled.

Snatches of conversation from some inthe crowd reached them--"Did you hear that?" "Hear it??" < Offworlders really are very surprising. > Others lowered their voices, comforting each other quietly, more upset than astounded.

Luu, for their part, seemed to get over the shock almost immediately. "Assuming that's really what happened," they muttered, glancing to one side, "what does it give us to go on?"