He used to have a rider who spent a lot of time here, Clarisse says, and Ness looks back to Artichoke with new sympathy, frowning. Maybe his rider died in the attack that tore down the towers, or maybe they were a rifter who disappeared one day—either way, the sudden absence of a beloved presence is one Ness can understand. Careful this time, keeping her head and hair further away from his beak, she reaches for him again, stroking and scritching behind his ears.

"No wonder he's depressed, poor thing."

She thinks of lessons skipped, rooms left haphazard, little rebellions when the world had the temerity to keep turning and the sun to keep rising when the one who'd made sense of it was gone. She thinks, I understand, boy, I do.

"I can spend more time with him, if it'd help, but I'd hate to look like I'm trying to replace his rider. You can't replace a bond like that."