All at once, Cyrus was overwhelmed by a riot of colors, sounds, and smells. He walked about feeling quite dazed in these new surroundings; the profusion of finest silk and velvet, the cry of the fishmonger, the alluring odor of sweets sold by the street vendors. Almost entirely out of his wits, he failed to notice the nonchalant approach of the type of skilled pickpocket so common on the streets of Rallia. The boy turned around abruptly, and the man looked shocked for an instant. He had figured the boy for an easy mark, and was unpleasantly startled to find otherwise. Yet then it was clear that the youth had taken no notice of him. Seeing an alternative way to earn his keep, he decided to turn on the charm.

"My good sir, welcome! Thrice welcome! I see you are new here to our fine city of Rallia, and may I say we are all the more blessed for your coming! Might I interest you in some gems? Very rare, these jewels. Finest quality!"

In a state of utter distraction, Cyrus could do no more than gape at the man. Regaining his senses a little, he stiffened slightly and reminded himself of Marie's admonition.

"I fear I must not buy anything from you, sir. But perhaps you might know -- I am searching for a guide, you see, one who might teach me the ways of this place."

The footpad cursed his ill luck. Here was the very worst type of prey; possessed of that uncanny ability to turn about at the most inconvenient times, not naive enough to buy the counterfeit wares, but still just foolish enough to be a complete nuisance. Yet something in the boy made him take pity on his naivete.

"It so happens that I offer such guidance. Since you seem like a good-natured lad, I'll waive my usual fees for the business."

"Oh no, I would not deprive you of your gain. Here, take it," he said, proffering no few silver pieces.

On seeing the sizable sum arrayed before him, the thief was almost tempted to take the money and run. Once again, however, his better nature overcame him, and he closed the boy's hand.

"It's complimentary, I tell you. Now, for your first bit of guidance: never offer money to a pickpocket, whether it be in your hand or round your waist."

Cyrus was astonished. This gentleman a pickpocket? How was it possible? His smooth, cunning face revealed no trace of the deviousness one would expect from a dastardly criminal.

"Surely you are no thief!"

He merely grinned and nodded his head. "Since my mother bore me. Now, what is your name, my boy?"

"Cyrus. And yours?"

"Maywren." They shook hands. "I'd wager this is the first time you've greeted a pickpocket with a handshake."

"To be truthful, this is the first time I've greeted a pickpocket at all!"

Bemused by the thief's curious honesty, Cyrus nevertheless appreciated having someone to talk to. He had been growing rather lonely since he had come close to the city, and even such dubious companionship as this was better than no company at all.

"I've taken a shine to you, my young Master Cyrus. I'll give you the special tour of our fair city, free of charge."

"Thank you," he said, still plagued with doubt about this new "friend" he had procured. After all, how could he be sure of the man's good intentions? But he had no other options at the moment. Maywren walked a few steps, then, realizing that the boy was not following, he cried "Come on, lad, I won't bite." Cyrus smiled sheepishly and followed.

Now that the fog had cleared, the boy could see a great deal more of what was in the vicinity. He recalled that the city of Rallia was divided roughly into 4 sections, corresponding to the historical divisions of the land. The entrance through which the boy had passed was called the Market, for its vast number of shops and merchants with wares to tantalize the city's wealthy elite. To the north, the poverty-stricken inhabitants of the Slums struggled to survive on what little they could obtain from the leavings of the upper class. South, on the outskirts of the city, was the fairly imposing Accademia di Fiori, visible even at this distance; yet it was completely dwarfed by the unimaginably huge, multifaceted crystal dome which marked the site of the Garden. Its subtle iridescent tinting caught the sun's rays and refracted them into a dazzling spray of light which drew the eye irresistibly towards it and invited them to come and peer inside.

But they were not going there; the pair's present destination was the area surrounding the docks, called Port Town; long in the past it had been a separate village unto itself, when traffic through the harbor had been considerably less and the crystal dome had yet to be put in place. The forest of masts visible there now could almost obscure the view of the vast curving bay on some days. Today, however, the water was nearly empty due to the "Fête des Jardins," as Maywren explained.

"Everyone's celebrating for the last week that the flowers are in bloom. That's what caused all that commotion you saw on the way in. I figured I should take you someplace quiet first, before joining the festivities."

He stopped walking for a moment, and turned to the boy. "You know we have a Garden just outside of town?"

"Yes, I had some idea." Cyrus was a little offended. How ignorant did the pickpocket think him to be?

"Well, it used to be that the Gardener would come out and declare that the flowers had started to close, but no one's seen him in more than 10 years. It seems a bit odd, but no explaining the Gardeners, after all."

Cyrus said nothing, and they walked on silence for a time. Finally, they reached the shore, and a breathtaking sight it was indeed. The cerulean water positively sparkled in the sunlight, even more than the crystal of the Garden's dome. Beyond, the ocean's vast expanse seemed almost endless, and Cyrus could only stare in awe as the waves rolled in from infinity.

Maywren grinned good-naturedly at the gaping youth. "I thought you might find the view a little interesting. Come, let's find a friend of mine and see if we can't get you some lodging."

They walked alongside the docks, with the thief leading the way while Cyrus stole the occasional glance at the sea which seemed to be calling him at every step. They stopped in front of a large building with a sign on the front that said "Rooms for Rent."

The boy halted. "I don't have enough money to rent a room! I need to save it for as long as I can."

"Then how could you have offered me so much when I met you?"

"I was starting to worry about finding a guide, and didn't know where else to turn. Besides, someone with such expensive jewels as you would surely think of it as no more than pocket change."

Maywren laughed heartily. "Those jewels were no more than colored glass! I'm as poor as you, my boy. Poorer, probably. At any rate, money is no problem. The landlady here owes me a big favor, you see," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Entering the building, they saw a strong, bulky woman sweeping the hallway.

"Hello there, Mattie," Maywren said airily.

Startled, the woman looked up and eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want, I'm busy!"

"My friend here needs a room for... how long?"

Cyrus shook his head. "I don't know how long my business will take me."

Looking curiously at the boy, the thief asked "And what precisely is your business? ...Alright, alright, keep your secrets. Well then, Mattie, my friend here needs a room until he says otherwise. Got it?"

"You must be joking! I can't take on a tenant who doesn't pay and won't say when he's leaving!"

Cyrus decided to speak up. "Might I work for my keep? I'll do anything you need."

"You can start by sweeping this hallway."

"Good enough."

"Now, wait a minute! Don't be so easily cowed, boy!"

"But I don't want to make things difficult for anybody. Besides, it's not hard. See?" he said, as he continued sweeping the floor.

Maywren shook his head. The boy must be crazy, agreeing to work for a room that he could have gotten for free. But it was hard not to like him.

"Very well. If you don't mind, I've some business to attend to. I'll come back and see you tomorrow, then."

Cyrus bid him farewell and continued sweeping. Mattie began to inquire after him.

"How did the likes of you come to be mixed up with such a seedy type as him?"

"He offered to sell me something, and I asked for him to be my guide instead."

"And he isn't charging you anything? I'd be wary, my boy, he's not a man as does things without something to gain."

"How did you come to owe him a favor?"

Mattie blushed bright crimson, and replied "It isn't proper for young men like yourself to hear."

Cyrus persisted, however, and the landlady finally gave in and told him.

"You see, this building used to be a... a parlor for sailors. I bought the building from him before I knew, but when I arrived I found out that he had sold it to me meaning for me to continue the business. Of course, I put a swift end to that. But he thinks I owe him a favor for what he did, and keeps threatening to tell the tenants if I don't do as he asks. I don't like it, but there's not much to be done about it."

"A parlor? But there's nothing here but bedrooms."

Mattie's blush deepened again. "Never mind that, just keep cleaning."

Dusk began to settle on the harbor, and Cyrus decided it was time to seek out a meal. Venturing out into the street once more, he walked along searching out someplace to eat. A warm and inviting pub beckoned him near, and went inside at once, glad to be out of the cold once again.

"What'll you have?"

"A maritelli, please."

Sitting down at a table, he began to eat the peculiar specialty of Rallian cuisine, a piece of crab meat with spices found only here in all the world, wrapped up inside a crispy pouch and garnished with herbs. Every restaurant, inn, and pub in the city had its own variant, and the making of maritelli was often a matter of immense local pride for the residents. He crunched away satisfyingly and surveyed the pub's many patrons.

To his left, he could see the regulars of the establishment; chatting merrily amongst themselves, each one had his own seat at the bar, and clearly knew the proprietor well. On the right, there were a number of people looking as starry-eyed as he realized he must have only earlier today. Probably in town for the festival, he decided.

He considered how he might go about finding clues as to the Gardener's location. It seemed apparent that the majority of the townsfolk didn't know where he was, either, so that left only the Accademians to inquire of. But making his way all the way over to the institution by himself seemed daunting, as he would have to travel quite a ways in order to reach it, and his encounter with Maywren had illustrated that he wasn't yet familiar enough with city life to evade the city's numerous thieves. He determined to ask the thief about it in the morning, but he would have to find a convincing reason why he wished to go there aside from the real one. For all Maywren's generosity, the woman's story had made him doubt the purity of the man's intent. Thinking of this reminded him; what sort of parlor would have only bedrooms? It must be a very dull place indeed, he concluded.

At the bar, the long-time patrons began to strike up a song. Amused, Cyrus watched them launch into what was clearly an old favorite among the customers, as they laughed and clapped their hands along with the rhythm.

"Oh, I once knew a girl from Ilesia

She swore that she would love me true

Yet I never met one who was breezier

She said the next day we were through

Although I did beg and implore her,

Remain is one thing she'd not do

Though now I regret her, I'll never forget her

'Sans toi, ma cherie, je suis perdu.'"

Everyone applauded uproariously, and the singers lapped in the fame before settling down once more to enjoy the pub's delicious food. Thinking a moment, Cyrus pondered what he knew of Ilesia. It was there that the "Fête des Jardins" had originated, for the first Gardener was born in that fair country. They had their own tongue, and indeed the boy thought it more melodious than his own, but it was very hard to learn, and despite his teacher Saltrio's best efforts, neither he nor any among his peers had possessed the talent to learn another language.

After finishing the last of his meal, the boy decided to go home for the night. It had been an eventful day, and he needed to rest in order to be able to enjoy the celebrations of the next day. Leaving a tip for the barman, he headed back to the apartments.

Just as he was about to enter the door, the moon leapt out from behind the clouds which had been obscuring it, and the surface of the Garden's dome burst into bluish flame, calling him like a beacon and glittering in the starlight. He felt a sudden compulsion to run all the way there in the dark and gaze into its interior, but merely shook his head slightly and walked through the entrance. Although he resisted its physical temptation, however, he could not get the Garden out of his dreams.