26

You’ve always liked the candlehops. They’re convenient, helpful, and have a friendly sort of air about them, like if you fell and scraped your knees, they’d bring you bandages. You once tried asking one to help you solve a crossword puzzle, but it didn’t seem to understand. Or maybe it just wasn’t any better at crosswords than you are.

You look around until you spot a candlehop that isn’t busy with a message, then lean in close to it.

“Have you seen Neve Gallus?” you ask it, feeling a bit silly. Can candlehops even see? They don’t have eyes, but that doesn’t seem to stop them finding their way around streets and through buildings and up staircases with no issue. Maybe one day you’ll ask one.

The candlehop tilts its little head at you, flame askew, then twirls and hops down off its pedestal to vanish into the crowd. Clearly, you’ll have to wait for an answer—that is, assuming it comes back.

• Turn to page 27.