wizard-of-the-pigeons

fork. He tasted a tiny bit of the whipped cream and then began to eat as he had
not eaten in days. Whole bites of sweet food, washed down with gulps of hot
coffee. It was hard to restrain himself from gobbling. In a remarkably short time
he was finished, and felt almost heavy with the unaccustomed weight of a full
meal inside him. There was a mouthful of coffee left, just enough to finish on.
He glanced shyly about, but there was no sign of Lynda. Some other waitress
had come in and was clearing tables at the far end of the room. He hesitated
before rising. He would have liked to leave her some sign of his appreciation, a
tip or a note. But he had neither coins nor pencil, even if his natural wariness had
not forbidden such contacts. So he rose, folding his newspaper in a leisurely
manner, and stuffing it into his overcoat pocket. The door didn’t even sigh as he
passed through it. No one watched him go.
He shuddered out a sigh as he strode down Second. That had been a closer
call than he liked to think about. Suppose she had pointed to him as the breakfast
thief? Suppose someone had noticed him moving the roll and the mug? Even her
giving him food had felt wrong; there was nothing of power or magic in her
gesture toward him; only pity. He walked faster. Had he thought himself
struggling against the current? No, it was more like being caught in a riptide. He
had best beach himself before he made any more dangerous mistakes. He longed
to feel safe, to have a sheltered spot in which to catch his breath.
But there was an oppression in the air today, as if that thing called Mir was
lurking overhead, watching and spoiling everything. He thought of getting on a
Metro bus and cruising the Ride Free area all day. He knew it well. From
Jackson Street on the south to Battery Street on the north, from Sixth Avenue on
the east to the waterfront. He could ride the bus all day and watch the city from
the window. But it could not take him out of danger. At every stop the grayness
of Mir would be hovering, waiting for the moment when he would be alone with
his guard down. He had to find Cassie, with no more stupid mistakes.
He set out on his rounds.
Pioneer Square Historical District. Not because he expected to find her there,
but because it was closest. Occidental Park was the name of this particular
section of it, but no one in this part of town much cared. Wizard doubted if they
even knew they were in Seattle. The “park” was a chunk of Occidental Avenue
just above the King Dome area that had been closed off to all but pedestrian
traffic. Now they called it a park. It was paved with rough gray bricks, gone
uneven. Stubborn grass sprouted up between the gray bricks, and lichen and