Argent leaned forward to peer at the figure. "You're sure?"
Almost on cue, Corda's gang attacked. The figure turned to block a man's vicious haymaker, then ducked under a second punch. The hood slipped from her hair, and waves of dark, almost iridescent curls spilled over her shoulders. Mori could just about make out the dots of colour running along her collarbone.
"Look at that," Argent muttered. He folded his arms and leaned back against a metal column. "So maybe she really did try to kill you."
"Don't say that," Ren snapped. "She wouldn't do something like that."
Mori pointed at the traveller on the screen. They watched as she dodged another two attackers, before summoning a brand of red light. It sliced through the neck of one of the men and slashed the torso of another. Both dropped to the ground, crimson pooling around their bodies. "Then how do you explain that?"
Ren stared at the image, clenching her fingers into fists. "I...don't know." Ren watched the tiny person with a frown as he flung a heavy-bound book into the case, shouting silent orders at his subordinates. "Looks like he grabbed whatever he could and ran for it."
"Can't blame him, to be honest," Argent said. He leaned back against the wall as the rest of the memory played out. "But the guy didn't see where Corda went after this, so we're back to square one."
"So this whole thing was a waste of time?" Mori said.
Ren's mouth twitched into a humourless smile. "Better get used to it." She reached into her bag, pulling out some crumbled sheets of paper, and handed them to him. "I managed to salvage a few notes from the warehouse. There's enough on there to get started, but you'll have to fill in the rest of the pieces yourself."
Mori shrugged. He'd spent his entire career as a clockmaker doing just that. He glanced down at the sketches on the paper, brow furrowed. "But what is this actually for? Nobody's explained that yet."
Ren ran a hand though her short hair. He'd seen that look in her eyes many times: her mind was elsewhere, puzzling out a problem far beyond either of them, one she'd never share or even indicate what it was about. He braced himself for the inevitable I've got somewhere I need to be, or You should be able to work it out, familiar mantras from their time on Arkos.
"Let's get to the clock tower," she said finally. "I'll explain everything there."
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As the day dwindled away to twilight, the haze over Dysis cleared, revealing a silken blue sky studded with stars. Smoke curled up in ghostly white plumes from spindly chimneys, highlighted brilliant white in the moonlight.
Mori hung behind as they walked, gazing up at the moonlit sky. He'd thought Dysis ugly during the day, compared to the sun-shattered brilliance of Arkos. But now the smog had lifted, he saw the world through a different, softer lens. The place still had an eerie, gloomy air to it — that he couldn't deny. But the way the colours mixed in the night, white and purple steam, edged amber from the streetlights, seemed like the work of an artist. He felt an undercurrent running through the city, prickling at his bare skin with the cold — the tingle of mystery, of magic.
