Lanterns flickered before each doorstep, casting wavering shadows in every direction. Nella stalked through the shadows while I strode through the light. “Ishmael doesn’t think badly of you, Jor,” she said, beak clacking. “He’s just worried for the others.”
“I know,” I said, sniffing the breeze. Though I could smell hints of garlic, it was not overbearing. If Mo had children and passed on his smelly habit, had they in turn taught their children to eat clove after clove of the odorous bulb? If they had, it did not smell like his descendants were in this city.
“Are you going to be okay, looking for her?”
I glanced at the black smudge in the darkness. Worry-tinged affection gleamed from her form, so I smiled to put Nella at ease. “I should be, sweet one.”
Nella’s glow pulsed with her caw
