The wooden door of the workshop behind the tailor's store was aged but well-maintained, old but not abandoned, and it was set beneath a swath of overgrown vines.
The frame was lined with hand-carved triangles and spirals that had softened over time due to exposure to sunlight and touch. Navir knocked on the door after taking a moment to catch his breath. The weight of years and a sharp wind caused the door to squeak open by itself.
As he entered, the perfume of polished metal and oiled wood greeted him like a memory. Ravash stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, the broad sleeves of his deep ash-gold robe hanging neatly at his sides. The weak sunshine was captured in precise bursts as the bronze needlework traced triangles and spirals across the linen. His dark silver-black hair flowed in uneven layers, and his crimson eyes looked at Navir with awareness, calculating, and calm.
His entire physique exuded composure and readiness: he was composed, austere, and softly roguish. He calmly said, "Shut the door." Navir did as instructed, going slowly through heaps of containers and neat instruments.
The small room became stiff in Ravash's presence, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
"Why have you come?" Ravash posed the inquiry while putting on a Fire-Glass bracelet.
Navir spotted the amber-black swirls glinting in the sunlight.
Navir stopped, his mind pressing down on him as he searched for the right words. Then he began, like if he couldn't stop speaking.
He discussed the Baasit's mysterious disappearance, the cloaked figures at the empty house, the orchid-petal mark on the stranger's arm at the basketball court, Baasit's sudden genius prior to examinations, and the nagging, oppressive feeling that something sinister was moving beneath the surface of the community.
"And no one's saying anything," he added quietly. "There are no reports of missing persons. Nothing. It's like he didn't even vanish but he just disappeared."
Ravash stayed mute. He remained immobile, his hands behind his back, listening intently to every word. When he moved, the only sound that shattered the silence was the delicate chiming of his Sun-Bone neck rings.
There was silence as Navir came to a halt, exhausted. Ravash's eyes remained keen, uncompromising, and focused. With his hands still behind his back and his posture erect, he gently turned towards the window.
"You're describing a pattern," he said in a calm and serious tone. "The same pattern that's eating through Argathe... and everyone pretends it doesn't exist."
Ravash did not move at first. His hands stayed clasped behind his back while he stared out the window. "This isn't something we discuss in daylight," he grumbled.
Navir stiffened. "What?" Ravash finally turned to face him directly, the cloak still hanging from its hook.
"Meet me at the old river crossing. Nightfall. Second watch." His tone grew softer. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
Night fell fast on the town's outskirts. At the second watch, Navir arrived at the river crossing in the midst of a peaceful night.
The dim illumination of a few older bulbs flickered as the breeze shook the wires along the old footbridge.
The rest of the crossing was dark, with wide expanses where anything could be hidden just out of sight, while the light fell in uneven places, tiny, faint circles on the boards. The surrounding night was still in deep shadow, but Ravash stood at the edge of a warm, incandescent lamp's glow, bright enough to see his features, his silver-black hair, his sharp red eyes, and the calm elegance of his stance.
A form migrated from just outside the circle of light. A figure came forward from the darkness beneath the bridge beams, sharp-eyed and silent as breath. The lantern's glow caught him only in pieces: the glint in his eyes, the line of his jaw, and the swift, precise movement he made as if the darkness itself had divided to give him access.
"Meet Kavresh," Ravash said. "He knows the city like the back of his palm. Nothing gets past him."
Kavresh extended his hand. "The cloth," he said.
Navir passed it over.
Kavresh took the dark scrap as the faint white eye sigil caught the lamplight. He squinted. "Where did you get this?"
Navir held his gaze as he felt the inquiry press on the night. Ravash nodded in a brief approving gesture.
He remarked with a low voice, "A ragged girl dropped it."
Navir inhaled hard, feeling the weight of the warning bear down on him. "The forces behind Argathe's fall," Kavresh said in a quiet but rather deep voice, "...are at work."
The wind whispered across the river, carrying the unspoken thr
eat as the three figures melted back into the night.