"Why do you keep making trees? Draw something else."

Harsh critic, Jasper thinks. He looks up from his stylus and paper to meet the skeptical eyes of his six-year-old nephew.

"I'm not very good at drawing anything besides trees," he says in his own defense.

His nephew looks smug as he points to his finished artwork. "I made a horse."

Jasper looks over. "Wow, good job," he says, trying to decipher how the form even remotely resembles a horse.

Meanwhile, his little niece, three-years-old and already more confident than him, shoves her blank paper over Jasper's. "Uncle," she says, "Make me a tree too." She then goes back to what she had been doing before, which was sharply turning her head this way and that to see how fast she could make the bounce of her tied-up hair flip around.

Jasper dutifully sketches a tree out for her. Children are exhausting, he thinks, but he loves these ones more than anything in the world.

The three of them sit at a round wooden table in the kitchen of Jasper's sister's home. The air is sweltering, and Jasper sometimes wishes he had chosen a better month than July to take his annual one-week leave from work. Then he considers what working in the densely-populated clerking office would be like in this intense heat, and changes his tune.

As he draws on his niece's paper, Jasper uses his other hand to fold up his own and begin fanning himself with it. Every breath he takes has him hoping that the air will be cooler this time around.

"Why are you doing that?" his nephew asks, curiosity kindling a light in his dark eyes.

"It's just so hot. This helps a little."

His nephew looks thoughtful, staring hard at the table. Then he jumps down from his chair and disappears into the neighboring room. Jasper barely has time to call out to him in confusion before he's returned, carrying a red quilt.

His nephew unfolds the blanket and begins to flap the entire thing in Jasper's direction. "Is this more?" he asks enthusiastically.

Jasper places a quick hand on top of the papers to keep them from flying away, his hair blown back a little by all the movement of air directed his way. "That's perfect. Thank you," he manages.

"What's going on in here?" his sister's voice calls, before the woman herself appears in the doorway. Looking at her is like looking into a barely-distorted mirror, given their strong similarity of feature; same brown hair, hazel eyes, and profusion of freckles. She takes it all in: her daughter whipping her head around, her son forcefully shaking the quilt, Jasper trying his best to look as if everything is fine. She laughs.

"Sorry, everyone. This seems fun, but your uncle's cart is here to take him back to town now."

Her children make sounds of dismay, and Jasper's niece grabs at his arm to try to keep him in place.

His nephew stops waving the blanket, looking dejected. "Already?" he asks. Jasper can sympathize: their week together had passed quickly, especially compared to the snail-like pace summer days often took on.

"I have to go back to my work," he tells them, regretful. "But I'll come back soon."

His sister gives him a sharp glance as they leave through the kitchen door to enter the morning light. "You'd better. We don't see you often enough. Cadeus Falls isn't that far."

The journey takes the better part of a day when carried by the kind of horse-drawn cart that waits for him now. His nephew makes a sound of appreciation when he sees the animal.

"It's just like my drawing," he says.

It really isn't, but Jasper won't be the one to tell him so.

The cart's driver is apparently a good friend of his sister's. As she exchanges pleasantries with her, Jasper is left to say goodbye to his niece and nephew. A mellow, vague sadness creeps up in the face of their earnest desire for him to stay.

He could have been a better uncle these past few years. Working long hours and running away to another world at every available opportunity has kept him from his family more than it should have. Give me a working bell back, he wants to plead. I'll strike a better balance between it all this time. Only give me the chance.

Jasper bends down to bring himself eye-level with the children. "I really will come back soon," he tells them. "And maybe someday, when you're big enough, you can come visit me. We'll go traveling together."

He doesn't know what makes him say that last part. Maybe it's the admiration they showed toward the horse, such a notable thing in this small world of theirs. Maybe it's the wide eyes with which they look up at him sometimes, as if they can sense that he's a person who has wandered far. Maybe it's as simple as those little moments of wistfulness where he catches them looking out the window, waiting for something to come along and fill them with wonder, some swift marvel to take them away.

It's a feeling he recognizes.

Jasper promises himself then: if he ever finds a way to get back to Beledon, he'll take his niece and nephew along when they're older. They deserve to see how wide the realm of possibility can be. Specterless, it should be relatively safe there now.

Wait, what about bears, or suspicious strangers, or the fact that according to Kit there are pirates sailing the seas? Maybe he shouldn't take them. But now that he's said it they'll expect something grand of him, with that fierce impatience children often have. Oh no, he really shouldn't have committed to—

"I'm big now," his niece insists. She puts her hands down by her feet and lifts them up until they reach the top of her head, showing the measure of her.

Forgetting his worried thoughts in a rush of fondness, Jasper smiles. "You are. You're almost big enough. Keep growing and then we'll see."

He hugs them each once, kisses the tops of their heads, says his farewells to his sister, and climbs onto the back of the cart with his trunk. He does it all rapidly, so that the little lodge of choked emotion in his throat doesn't show itself where they can see.

As the cart begins to pull him away, he waves to his family until they are far out of sight. And even then, he looks in their direction, making endless promises with himself and whatever higher power orders his world.

Jasper arrives back to Cadeus Falls under a night of summertime stars.

-

"You've never read any of these before, have you?" Skander asks. He cracks open yet another book with a crisp spine and perfectly straight, unmarked pages.

"If you think I'd have wasted my time on writings like The Life Cycle of the Antamerian Ladybug or A History of Cabinet Carpentry, think again," says Tai.

"That's exactly my point. Whoever curated this was only considering how elegant the spines would look all in a line, not about if the subject matter was interesting."

Tai says nothing. That likely was the exact strategy used to put together his family's personal collection of texts. The Katos' library is as cavernous and carefully maintained as every other room in the vast house, but it's seldom occupied for long stretches of time. It holds few engrossing or truly page-turning items, let alone books that can tell them more about bringing Jasper back to Beledon.

Personally, Tai can live without Jasper's visits and otherworldly ignorance. Skander feels differently, though, and Tai won't let him search alone. Besides, the library is as appealing a place as any, if deserted.

Skander doesn't feel as passionately about books as someone like Giada or Kalila, but even he had taken a second to truly appreciate the beauty of the room when Tai first led him inside.

Mahogany shelves stand tall to touch the ceiling, gold embossed lettering along the spines offering a captivating gleam. The shine of the polished wooden floor is disrupted only by a soft woven rug in front of the fireplace, patterned with a design of scarlet and blue flowers. Scattered throughout the room are high-backed chairs of a rich dark wood, each upholstered with fine red cloth. On every table he can see, flowers have been placed to brighten the space in pots of ceramic and marble.

The peach-petaled roses closest to Skander emit a honey-like aroma, and he wonders at how this one library must be bigger and grander than the entirety of the few rented rooms he shares with Lionel. 

Puzzle, who had been napping in a blanket of sun from the tall windows, pads his way over to where Skander sits on the rug. Without a second of hesitation, he puts his paws down to stand on the book open in front of him.

Skander looks at him.

Puzzle looks back, pupils constricted from the high light, unmoving.

"Get that cat off my book. It's valuable," Tai says flatly, as if he wouldn't let Puzzle do the same.

"All right," Skander says, glad for the distraction. He picks up a disgruntled-looking Puzzle and lies on his back, placing the cat on his chest. At this angle, the rays through the window give his gray coat an iridescent sheen.

Puzzle leans over him to briefly bump their noses together. Skander thinks his heart might melt. Tai watches the afternoon sun suffuse them both with light, sees Skander's smile grow as he looks at the cat. When his eyes dart to him, knowing, Tai looks back to the pages.

"I'm stealing him back from you," Skander announces.

"Don't. What do you expect me to do, if the two things I love most run off with each other?"

An odd silence follows. Tai frowns and looks to him, confused at the careful blankness of his expression. "What's that face for?"

"You've never said that before."

"Yes I have."

"You really haven't. I would have remembered."

Tai casts his memory back. Has he really not? That first night, when Skander returned just as Tai was on the brink of true panic for the first time in his life, surely he had told him then.

But no, he remembers now. He had said any number of mindlessly adoring things that long stretch of night after seeing him again. The words had been honest and affectionate, but they had not included "love".

Skander watches the realization dawn on his face. "Well," he says, a little amused despite himself. He feels strangely nervous, though objectively he knows how Tai feels already. "Are you going to say it properly now?"

Tai recovers himself. "Not if you're staring at me like that. I'll do it when you're not sitting there expecting it." He tries to sound aloof, but his heart beats faster than its usual pace.

"So romantic," says Skander in good-natured exasperation.

Puzzle decides he's had enough of them both and hops off of Skander's chest to disappear up the library's second level (five minutes later, he's asleep in the midst of the shelves).

With the weight of the cat removed, Skander sits up again, looking thoughtful. "Jasper's note from the chimera said 'Before he forgets'. Do you think that could be a clue? Maybe he has another way of coming here that he needs to remember."

"If our chance of reunion with Jasper rests on his ability to remember a crucial piece of information, resign yourself to never seeing him again," Tai says coolly.

Skander rolls his eyes. "I can't believe I'm in love with you."

"Neither can I," is the honest reply.

A long length of quiet follows, broken only by the turning of pages. The force of the sun's rays through the windows washes the room in an almost overbearing heat. Tai tugs off his coat, stiff with embroidery.

Skander glances at him. "What did your note from the chimera say? I don't think I ever knew it."

Tai doesn't even look up as he says, "'Watch out for clockmakers. They'll ruin your life.'"

Skander laughs and reaches over to nudge Tai's leg with his foot. "No, really."

"It said 'For Taihei, while he waits.'"

Skander makes a sound of understanding. "Waiting for the specters."

"I don't think so. I'd guess it referred more to a 'who' than a 'what'," Tai says, voice carefully neutral.

"All right, who?" His first internal guess is Aedus Kade, whom Tai unabashedly hates.

But Tai doesn't say anything, only looks at him and smiles, small and sincere. Skander, when he realizes what Tai means, feels his face heat with a rush of surprised joy. He pulls the book out of Tai's arms and puts his arms around him instead.

Later, he says, "You're unbelievable." But he's beaming, and his arms are wound securely around Tai's neck to keep him close.