Moonless Nights

"How are we supposed to do that?" Hana asked. "Mica, don't you think your view of the world is a little too simple?"

Zagiha placed his hand on his chin, and shook his head. "Actually, I think Mollusc is onto something," he said. He frowned. "Surely, there are things Nimhr DOES like. If we figure out what those are, and we show him how much worse off he would be if he couldn't have them anymore, he'd change his mind."

"I think he only likes p.o.r.n," Hana said, deadpan.

"Oh, c'mon." Zagiha sighed and placed his hands on his h.i.p.s. "It's at least worth a try, isn't it? We don't want to have come all this way for nothing."

"But he threw us out." Correction: he threw Zagiha out, but Hana didn't have the heart to mention that. "We can't know what he likes if he's shut in all day."

"Nimhr's not totally hopeless," Zagiha retorted. "He comes to our meetings, remember? He'll leave the Temple eventually. Let's have a stakeout."

"Okay? And then what? We can't just talk to him."

"We won't. We'll follow behind him, and…"

"A little creepy, innit?" said Mica. "You're going to stalk him?"

"What?" Zagiha sputtered. "It's not stalking… it's… it's… spying."

"I don't see how that's any different."

"Remember this was your suggestion in the first place, Rebane? Besides, if he comes out, we're all allowed to exist in a public space. We have the power of plausible deniability on our side."

"How did I suggest stalkin' him? I honestly don't know how your mind even works."

"It's. Not. Stalking!"

"Mmm-hmm." Mica got back up in the wagon's driver seat. "Well, I don't wanna be arrested again, so I'm gonna get some lunch. I'm not interested in Nimhr. I only care about the regional cuisine! I'll meet y'all creepsters back at the University gate."

"Not a creepster…!"

But Mica was gone, rolling off in his wagon. And… they were alone again. It's not like her feelings for Zagiha were magically resolved after their talk that morning. Being alone together like this only accentuated the distance between them. Zagiha scooted away from her. Oof. Rejection always hurt, no matter what. The two of them both had the common sense to know their relationship wouldn't be back to normal for a long time… so being alone together was stiflingly awkward.

And stupid idiot Mica didn't have the foresight to invite her along!

"Look…" said Zagiha after a bit. "You're trying to track Silvio's whereabouts, aren't you? Why don't I stay here on the stakeout and you head into town to see if he's been here recently? I'll let you know if Nimhr comes out."

Hana sighed in relief, grateful for the out. Well, at least he was looking out for her best interests. She got up and nodded. "Right…" she said, hopping on her staff. Reciting the incantation, a pair of wings made of silver light unfurled and fluttered around, lifting her into the air. "If he hasn't shown up in a few hours, call me so we can come up with a Plan B." It was the nicest way she could think of to say she thought his plan was stupid and he was stupid, but he didn't get the hint, as he just waved her off.

Hana gained more altitude and stared down at the sprawling countryside below. This part of the country was mostly farmland, fields stretching as far as the eye could see tucked between rolling green hills. A low-hanging layer of clouds misted the mountains in the west, protecting the nearby villages from harsh weather characteristic of the north. It was all Gesmaura, but this part of country looked so much different than the flatlands of Modrica.

Modrica… How were the other regions responding to the Unforgivables' attack on the capital, anyway? She understood if nobody in quaint little Minumna had heard the news, but Tyressa was a Sorcerer-majority town with access to all the magical channels. And yet, as she flew over the rooftops, nobody below seemed worried or even suspicious something was amiss.

But as she got closer to the University, a crowd of people drew her attention. Hana cringed, remembering the Unforgivable protest that turned into a massacre, but what she saw next sparked her curiosity.

These people were a bunch of Sorcerer college students, protesting… something. She didn't understand the Eskanskaya chants and signs. Hana landed and walked up to them. She felt a bit nervous just engaging one in conversation, but if they gave her any clues about Silvio, it was well-worth biting the bullet for.

"Um… Western Gesmauran?" she asked the student.

He nodded.

"What are you all doing?" said Hana.

The student blinked in disbelief. "You haven't heard?" he replied.

"No, I just got here. What are you protesting?"

"You heard about the attack in Modrica, right? The authorities here in Tyressa razed the slums. They're rounding up everyone in the Unforgivable ghetto and kicking them out!"

"To where?"

"That's the point! They'll die out in the wilderness. They weren't even allowed to pack anything and now their homes are gone!"

"They did that?" Hana balked. No wonder nobody in town was worried. Don't have to worry about Unforgivables if there aren't any Unforgivables. "And you're… protesting that?" That was the real surprise. Most Sorcerers actively hated or ignored Unforgivables. Hana herself was in the latter camp. The only Unforgivable she really cared about was Silvio, and although she understood their plight, she had a hard time mustering up any sympathy for the people who caused such wanton chaos and destruction in Modrica.

"It's a matter of basic decency!" the student said.

"You know they murdered a lot of people, right?"

"The ones in Modrica did. Not the ones here. Do you seriously think they're all organized and waiting to kill us?"

Hana held her tongue.

"They're not capable of that. No matter what weapons they have, we have magic. The cops can crush 'em easy, so… so it's people like us with all the power who have to stand up for them."

Hana found that statement to be both naïve and condescending. He was selling them short. But then again, it was easy for people in these parts to posture to their hearts' content. They weren't the ones caught up in the attack. They didn't have to see people die right in front of their eyes while fearing for their own lives. They didn't have to deal with her trauma, and they'd never have to. They experienced everything secondhand through matter-of-fact typeface on a newspaper. And if they thought their symbolic gesture of support would save their lives when the guns came out… well, they had another thing coming.

"Sitting here won't do anything for them," she answered at last, incensed.

"Well, what should we do then?" he countered. "In other countries, Unforgivables aren't discriminated against. If Gesmaura's supposed to be civilized, why are we still keeping such brutish beliefs?"

Hana didn't have the answer to that. "And how are those countries doing?" she wanted to retort. But she didn't, because she didn't care. She didn't care whether or not Unforgivables got rights. Why she should she care about the people who messed her the hell up? She was just an average person who wanted her peaceful life and her brother back.

She had the self-control not to blow up at him. She needed intel more than she needed to fight in the Battle of the Soapboxes. "Have you ever seen an Unforgivable who looks like me, but he's a boy?" she asked.

"Sorry to b.u.t.t in, but I have," said another girl.

Hana's heart leaped in her c.h.e.s.t. "Where? When?"

The girl tapped into the urgency of her questions, answering clearly. "I go hiking in the mountains sometimes. With the exiling and all, there've been a lot of Unforgivables hanging around up there. They try to stay hidden, but… y'know. It's hard to miss those markings. I'm pretty sure I saw him about a month back or so?"

Ah, great, the mountains. The same mountains they just exited, which were now several hours away. Still, this was a massive development. The range was massive, but if she had to she'd perfect tracking magic and look through every nook and cranny until she found him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she gushed, forgetting her previous anger. "I knew coming to Tyressa would be worth it!"

And now, the next step. She had to get Mica. While bullheaded Zagiha implored equally bullheaded Nimhr fruitlessly for help, they could head up in the mountains together and search. All she had to do was follow the scent of food to meet up with him.

She was so happy she could dance on a cloud!

… Which did Zagiha promptly ruin, of course.

"What's up?" she asked, answering the Message Crystal.

"I can't believe it!" he stammered. "Nimhr's on the move already!"

"What? He is? Go after him!"

"Uh…" There was a long pause on the other end.

"What?"

"Nimhr kind of, uh, found me right away. You know what he did? He laughed at me! Then he said, 'Don't even try, Sasha,' and continued on his merry way. So my cover's blown. How did he predict what I was going to do? Am I… predictable?"

Yes.

"So he'll be on the lookout for me AND Ereth. But! He won't be looking for you. Listen, can you pick up the slack? I'll pay you back, I promise. He's headed toward the market square."

Hana gave an exasperated sigh. He was lucky he was pretty, because the man was next to useless. Some genius he was, although she guessed all savants had an idiot side.

"All right," she said. "But you owe me. I'm on Silvio's trail, so there's no time to lose."

She hung up and left the protesters without another word, wandering around aimlessly until she came to a row of shops.

Nimhr… Nimhr… where was he?

Oh, he was the guy who stuck out like a sore thumb. And he was still wearing his pajamas. Nimhr looked back at her, and she hid herself in the crowd. Crap! He knew what she looked like, and he knew she was with Zagiha. Hana breathed a sigh of relief as he let it go and continued to his destination.

This guy was good. Grade-A, top-of-the-line paranoia. She couldn't get too close or the jig was up.

What was a girl to do?

--

Nimhr was well aware of the uncomfortable sensation he was being stared at. He wheeled around, but then decided it wasn't worth investigating. People stared at him all the time, after all. He was used to being treated like a zoo exibit.

He wasn't too fond of crowds or towns, but literally anything beat moron Sasha mouth breathing down his window-well. Besides, he wasn't a completely lost cause. Nimhr had a weekly routine where he emerged from his lair and did a bit of shopping in preparation for the next cycle of nesting. Even he had hobbies, but…

Today was an especially important day for him, and no one was allowed to get between him and his appointment with Genya.

He shivered suddenly. That was strange. He wasn't cold, or anywhere near the University. So why did he feel so uncomfortable? He shuddered and picked up the pace, rushing to his first destination.

"Good afternoon, Pyotr," said the woman behind the yarn shop counter.

He didn't answer her. He gave her a deferential nod and crouched down, observing rows of multicolored yarn on the shelves. Nimhr didn't really care about the color. What made a yarn good, in his opinion, was its softness.

Nimhr enjoyed only two things about the modern world: the written word, and soft things. Thirty thousand years ago he used to sleep on a tattered old mat woven out of reeds. Nowadays he could sleep on any plush thing he wanted, luxury right at his fingertips. If things back in the day were this comfortable, maybe he wouldn't have woken up when those people came and…

Of course he'd think about that on a day like this.

Nimhr picked out a skein of yarn and melted into a beanbag chair in the corner, idly flipping through a catalog of crochet patterns. His eyelids grew heavy. He wanted to go back to bed. He fell asleep in this beanbag plenty of times, and the clerk lady, bless her heart, let him. But today he absolutely could not.

Nimhr forced himself to stand back up, and paid for the yarn. He hated coins and he hated arithmetic. He preferred bartering. Gods, whatever happened to that?

Bag in hand, he mentally crossed off the first item on his checklist and headed to his next stop, a little café. He ordered one black tea, plain, and settled into the sofa. Nimhr hated eating. It felt disgusting, not to mention chewing was too much effort. But he generally enjoyed drinking, a little too much. Ever since he gave up vodka, he switched to tea, and thought he was better off for it. He felt a little left out and a little wistful whenever he passed the distillery, but tea sleep was of higher quality than alcohol sleep.

The teashop was usually his second nap of the day, and this time he would've fallen into a deep slumber, too, if he wasn't jolted awake by the same chilling sensation from earlier.

He frowned and left the shop.

The third stop was the florist. He usually bought a single white rose, but since today was special, he bought an entire bouquet of them.

Genya loved white roses. He always kept a vase full of them in his office back at the University. Nimhr didn't see the appeal, but if it was for Genya's sake, that was all that mattered.

Would these ones make him happy? Nimhr wondered.

"Got a date, Pyotr?" asked the clerk.

Nimhr blinked. "Something like that," he answered flatly.

Nimhr left without further pleasantries. The sweet scent of flowers usually lulled him to sleep where he stood, so he exercised all the willpower he had to overcome their magic spell.

Good.

Now his chores were done, and he could see Genya.

Nimhr headed down the road with his tea and his yarn and his flowers, disregarding the people around him. They greeted him warmly, but he barely reciprocated. They were all fake folks. If they knew who he really was, they'd kick him out of Tyressa again. The only thing that gave him pause was the sight of a cat, circling around a storm drain grate and meowing desperately.

Nimhr stopped and crouched down, listening to small, feeble meows emanate from the depths. "Poor mama cat," he said, patting it on the head. "Let's get your babies." Nimhr did not care about modern societal standards such as vandalism. He grabbed the grate and pulled it off with his brutish strength, flinging it aside. He peered down the hole. He saw a few kittens in the dim light he had, and tried to grab them. No use. They were too far down. He sighed and tried to push his torso through so he could get them, but he was too large. He couldn't fit. Nimhr cursed under his breath, wondering what he ought to do.

"Need some help?"

Nimhr backed out of the hole and looked up, flushing at the radiantly beautiful person watching over him. He gulped. It started out bad, but if such a heavenly beauty was talking to him, then today was pretty good after all. Unfortunately, Nimhr didn't know how to talk to girls.

"You're… really pretty," he stammered.

"Thank you!" said Mica, smiling widely. "I'm skinny, so I think I can fit down there to grab 'em. If you'd hold my feet so I don't fall, I think I can get them all."

"O-Okay."

Nimhr did as suggested, averting his eyes from the wiggle of Mica's very fit and shapely b.u.t.t.

"Ugh! No use!" said Mica. "They ran further down. I need to… wait! I have an idea!" He crawled back out and opened a bag of dumplings. "I bought these for lunch, but maybe they'll lure the kitties in. I'm gonna try! Let's do this again!"

"O-Okay."

"Yes! I got one. I'm gonna hand it you!"

"O-Okay." Nimhr dumbly took the kitten and wiped it off before returning it to its mom. And so on so forth until all the kittens were saved. The mother scruffed one and carried it away, moving her family to a safe home.

Mica crawled back out and beamed, grimy and without his lunch but very pleased with himself.

"Th-Thank you," said Nimhr. Nimhr did not usually express gratitude.

"My p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e," said Mica. He reached out to shake his hand. Nimhr didn't understand the gesture, until he remembered what it was supposed to mean and awkwardly took it several moments later.

"Your pelmeni…" said Nimhr, looking at the now empty bag.

"Ah? That? Don't worry about it."

"Nyet, nyet," Nimhr replied. "You gave up lunch for me. I buy you more. Okay?"

"Oh." Mica's smile grew wider. "Thank you! My name is Mica. And you are?"

Nimhr hesitated. "… Pyotr Yevgenyevich Belyakov," he answered. It was a well-rehearsed reply. "What you want, pretty? I buy you anything."

"Hmm? Ah, I see." Mica twirled his hair. "Are you askin' me on a date?"

Nimhr shrunk back. "If you… if you want it to be date," he answered unsurely.

Mica folded his arms. "Y'know, you seem very sweet, but I don't really go for guys…"

Nimhr was crestfallen. And today was so close to being great, too.

"But it's the 21st century, they say s.e.x.u.a.lity is fluid, and I like to consider myself open-minded. Besides, anyone who saves animals is my type. All right. Let's go on a date right now. But I warn you, I love to eat."

"Now?"

"Yes, of course. Why? Is there anywhere you need to be?"

Nimhr didn't answer for a bit. He had to honor his obligations, but this was his first date in his entire existence. And, well, he was running early anyway.

"Yes," he said, "it must be today. But can wait a bit."

Annoying as he was, maybe idiot Sasha was a good luck charm. For Nimhr, this was the best day ever.

--

Hidden about twenty meters away, Hana stood flabbergasted. How did the…? He…? What…? First of all, she was surprised Nimhr hadn't noticed the surveillance charm she put on him yet. Second of all, she was surprised by literally everything else.

Was this the same person?

Nimhr, who so coldly rebuked the world that morning, was into knitting and rescuing kittens from storm drains? And he somehow got Mica to agree on going on a date with him? He sure put on a different face in public.

So who was the right Nimhr?

"This is hilarious," Zagiha guffawed from the other end of her Message Crystal. "I can't believe he… with Rebane… Geez! This is comedy gold! Should we tell him?"

By that, she assumed he meant Mica's physical s.e.x.

"Don't you dare," she said.

In a strange, roundabout way that absolutely didn't necessitate stalking at all, Mica's plan worked. Nimhr looked like he was having the time of his life, even if the date was mostly just buying Mica food. Mica sure was good at getting his way, wasn't he?

"Don't you want anything?" asked Mica to Nimhr as he shoved his umpteenth pastry down his throat.

"Ah… nyet." Nimhr shook his head.

"You sure are a quiet type," said Mica. He wrapped himself around Nimhr's arm, nuzzling into it. "That's not a bad thing, though. You don't need words to tell me how sweet you are. Honestly, I didn't know what to think, goin' on a date with a guy for the first time and all that, but you've treated me so well. I feel a bit selfish eatin' everything when you haven't had anything, though…" He scratched the nape of his neck. "Don't tell me… you spent all your money on me and don't have enough for yourself?"

"I have plenty money," said Nimhr. "I just don't like…"

"Lies won't do." Mica held up his smoothie to Nimhr's face. "We can share. Say 'ahh.'"

Nimhr blushed and averted his gaze. "Ah, Misha, is little embarrassing. Share drink is like…"

"Like what?" Mica c.o.c.ked his head. "An indirect kiss?" He chuckled, as Nimhr's blush grew deeper. "You're right. It's improper. A direct kiss is the way to do it instead."

If steam could shoot out Nimhr's ears, he would've blown a gasket. "Um, um," he stammered.

Mica laughed. "Sorry, sorry. You're just so cute when you're fl.u.s.tered. A big, scary guy like you actin' all bashful-like. I hope you don't mind if I tease you a bit. It's all in fun."

"You are massive flirt," answered Nimhr. "I am bit nervous."

"You do seem a little stiff," said Mica. "Don't worry. I don't bite… much. How much time do you have left until you have to go to your appointment?"

Nimhr checked his Message Crystal. "… Schedule is flexible," he replied.

"The person you're meeting won't mind?"

"…" Nimhr frowned.

"Okay, I won't keep you long." Mica smiled reassuringly. "Let's have a bit more fun before you have to leave. Like that carnival!" He tugged on his arm, leading him to a small carnival in one of the town's parks.

"Whatever Misha wants," said Nimhr.

"Do you not like carnivals, Pyotr?" asked Mica.

"I do not like crowds," Nimhr answered. "But if Misha is happy, is fine."

"Are you sure?"

Nimhr nodded. "I prefer if you have good time."

"You're very sweet. Let's compromise, then. Just a few games." Mica looked around, taking in the sights and smells of the fair. "I'm a bit sad our time together has to end so soon. Well, I have to meet up with my friends myself. We're gonna be in Tyressa awhile. I'd like to introduce you to them."

Nimhr shuddered suddenly.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, but only not to worry Mica. In truth, Nimhr grew more suspicious by the second someone was following them. They stopped in front of the strongman game, Mica gazing lovingly at one of the prizes.

"It's so cute!" he said.

Nimhr followed his gaze to what he was looking at. A… giant, stuffed salmon? Misha was an… interesting one.

"And it can be yours if you hit the bell," said the carnie. "Just five kronora a try. Aha, Pyotr, can't believe I'm seeing you out here of all places. And with such a bombshell on your arm, too. Be a gentleman and let your lady friend try. Five kronora is a good investment for future dates."

"Lady friend?" asked Mica.

"Go get your fish, Misha," said Nimhr, handing the carnie the money.

Mica picked up the hammer, wincing at its weight. "Is this made of cast iron or something…? Okay, here I go!" He whacked the lever, sending up the striker mechanism, but it only shot up about halfway before falling down with a pathetic thunk. He dropped the hammer and sighed with disappointment. "If only I were a little stronger…"

Nimhr stared at him and sighed. "Don't be sad, lyubimaya," he said. "I win for you." Handing the carnie another coin, he picked up the hammer with one hand and lightly tapped the lever. The striker rocketed up, smacking the bell with absurd force. It rang out loud and clear, attracting attention from other fairgoers. A few clapped.

"Gods' sake!" said the carnie. "You're the only one today who's rung that bell. Those muscles of yours really aren't just for show. You've gotta share your workout routine with me sometime, Pyotr. Well, a win's a win! Here you go!" He handed the plush salmon to Mica, who squeezed it happily.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he squealed.

Nimhr looked at his Message Crystal again.

"Is it that time already?"

Nimhr nodded.

"I'm a little sad. Will I be able to see you again?"

"I come back tomorrow," Nimhr spat out nervously.

"All right. Then I'll look for you."

Nimhr plucked one of the roses out of his bouquet and tucked it in Mica's hair. "White rose represents promise in Eskana. Is my promise to you."

"We don't have anythin' like that where I'm from, but I have somethin' for you, too." Mica leaned up on his tiptoes and kissed Nimhr on the cheek. "There's more where that came from, so hurry back soon." He winked and bid him farewell, walking back to the town square.

"O-Okay," Nimhr said, pressing a hand to his face. On cloud nine, he floated to his final destination of the day.

--

"They're so cute together, I hate it!" said Zagiha over coms.

They… were pretty cute. Hana started to follow Nimhr once more, only to be stopped by Mica, who folded his arms and shook his head at her.

"So you're the one who was usin' the trackin' spell while I was on my date," he said. "Oh, I know it was you. Tracking spells cause the target to shudder, right?" He smirked. "You didn't have to do that. I would've just met you in the town square, y'know."

"I wasn't tracking you!" Hana asserted. "I was tracking Nimhr!"

"Nimhr?" Mica blinked.

"You know," said Zagiha. "The man of your dreams?"

"Nimhr? No, no, that's Pyotr."

Hana huffed. "Mica, that's definitely Nimhr. I don't know why he gave you a different name, but it's him all right."

Mica blinked in confusion. "Eh? EH? But he was like a totally different person than who you talked to! He was so nice to me."

"It's because you're hot, Rebane," said Zagiha. "Well, good job stalling him long enough for Hana to st—spy on him. But we've got to go after him!"

"I'm on it," said Hana. "Mica, you should stay here in case he comes back. It's best if he doesn't know we're together. I'm just gonna see where he's going, and then I'll be back."

Mica nodded. "Got it."

With the tracking spell still activated, Hana followed in Nimhr's footsteps. She went long past the town square, out of city limits, and up a winding path on a large hill. Hana huffed and puffed, wondering how long Nimhr was going to walk, until she abruptly found herself at his destination.

A graveyard.

What?

Why was he… here?

Hana followed Nimhr about twenty meters behind, ducking behind a statue as Nimhr stood in front of a gravestone. It was ancient, at least two hundred years old, the stone cracked and weathered by the unforgiving winds of time.

Nimhr placed the white rose bouquet in front of it.

"I came, Genya," Nimhr said softly. He forced a tired smile, a tear rolling down his cheek. "We will be together soon." He straightened up and said, louder: "White rose represents promise in Eskana, devochka."

Hana tensed up.

"Come out. I know you followed me all this time."

Knowing she had no other choice, Hana sheepishly did as she was told and appeared behind him.

"You are about as subtle as Sasha."

"I'm sorry," said Hana, hanging her head. "I didn't know you were headed here." She looked at the death date on the gravestone. "… Oh."

"My dearest friend rests here," said Nimhr. "I promised him, every year on this day, I come visit. Three hundred years now."

"You… you must've really cared for him," said Hana. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Teacher Yevgeniy was entire world," answered Nimhr. " While he was alive, Nimhr had place here. Now he's gone, and I'm alone."

"He died so young, too."

"And that's why I cannot forgive myself. Three hundred years of hate myself, wishing to be by his side again."

"Can't forgive yourself?" Hana furrowed her brow. "What do you mean? Why do you feel guilty?"

Nimhr shook his head. "Because, devochka…"

The air was still as death.

"I murdered him."