It didn't seem quite fair that the world around him remained so perfect while his life sat crumbled and broken around him.  But his life had never been fair so perhaps he should have expected this.

Sedgewick was beginning to wish that the irritatingly happy people of this aggravatingly picturesque city would take their miserably beautiful day and shove it up their aqueducts.  But since he couldn't exactly defend himself from any retaliation, Sedgewick stewed in silence as the pole boat he was riding was pushed smoothly down the watery street.  Vacia: City of Rivers.  A city whose wealth and beauty were matched only by the number of rats crawling beneath its surface. Which included the revolting, lowlife pests and the slightly more tolerable animal variety.

While the capital fought against the spring flooding like a defending army, Vacia embraced it.  An elaborate network of canals and aqueducts ran through the city like the three rivers that ran into the lake it sat on.

Memories of the countless times he'd slogged through the city's underground catacombs in search of a criminal flooded Sedgewick's mind like the water flooding a nearby canal.  Missions and fights swirled together, drowning him in a dark vortex of recollection.  They dragged him down, suffocating him under their weight.  Was it all for nothing?  All those years of struggling just to end up worse off than when he began?  He had been a good mage, hadn't he?  Skilled, dedicated, ruthless.  One of the best.  What was he now?

"Nothing," he muttered to himself.

"Pardon, sir?" asked the man rowing the boat.

"Let me off here," Sedgewick answered gruffly.

He paid the man and stepped onto the sidewalk.  Walking.  Walking was good.  No thinking.  That wouldn't end well.

Finally emerging from the dim mire of his thoughts, Sedgewick found he was halfway up the steps of the library he'd been trying to reach.  He trudged inside and weaved his way through the countless shelves that reached halfway up to the vaulted ceiling.  Finally, he found a secluded corner in the disused atlas section.  Shrugging his coat off, Sedgewick sank into a chair and cradled his head in his hands as he leaned over the table.  His fingers clutched around his now-black hair, still sticky from the dye he'd used.

He just...needed a moment.  Somewhere quiet and cool, away from the dreary room he'd slept in.  Somewhere away from the sound of hundreds of lives moving on while his was at a standstill.  Just a moment spent alone.  In silence.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Apparently, he had asked too much.

"Sir?"

Sedgewick glanced up at the random woman who had approached him.  She was young with a stack of books in her arms and her honey-blonde hair pulled back with a flower-shaped clasp.  Probably a clerk or a shopkeeper's daughter.  Her life was just starting out.  She probably helped her parents with their shop and spent her evenings with some young man who spun her tales about the life they would have together once he was more settled.  Her world was bright and beautiful and filled with possibilities.  Of course, she couldn't pass by without trying to spread a bit of her happiness to this poor, pathetic stranger.

He wanted to hate her for her pity.  He wanted to hate her for having the bright beginning he would never get again.  But he couldn't.

Why did she have to be blonde?

A chill shuddered through him.  It cracked through the last bit of resolve holding him together.  "No," Sedgewick stated, his voice both strangely calm yet holding a long-suppressed heat.  "I am most definitely not fine."

The young woman blinked.  "Oh.  Is there anything I can—"

"No."  He shot up from the chair and placed his fists on the table.  "My life has fallen apart at the seams.  Everything I've worked for, everything I've treasured is lost to me.  And your patronizing attempt at kindness will not change that."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, obviously wavering on how to react.

Sedgewick laughed, his face twisted in mirthless pain.  "Oh, well all right then.  My reputation is ruined, I'll be destitute within a month, and the woman I loved is forgetting me.  But you—" He waved toward her.  "A girl I've never met, who has done nothing to influence the course of my life is apologizing."  Tears pricked his eyes as he laughed again.  "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"M—maybe I should go.  You seem like you want to be alone."

Sedgewick barely noticed her, too consumed by what he was saying to pay attention to who he was saying it to.  "I know how pointless it is to aim to be happy.  I gave up on that long ago.  But was contentment too much to ask for?  I knew my place, I wasn't aiming for anything greater, I wasn't expecting anything more out of life.  Couldn't I have been left with that?  Does the Creator himself enjoy tormenting me?  I'm nothing now, do you hear me?! NOTHING!  And..."  Sedgewick paused, his booming voice dropping down to a whisper. "If I'm nothing...then why do I matter?"

He looked up.  The girl was gone.  Sedgewick stumbled back to his chair.  And cried.

Feyla had gained a new respect for fugitives.  After spending the entirety of her trip jumping at every movement and perking her ears up at every noise, she felt like her nerves had been struck by lightning.  How people dealt with this long-term, Feyla couldn't imagine.

She'd asked around her inn if anyone knew of a place or person called Crayden but had turned up empty-handed except for one man who suggested checking the library for records of people or places.  So, here she was.

Feyla strolled past the library entrance, her sandals squeaking on the dark blue and white tiled floor.  A young couple stood a little way off, staring at each other adoringly.  Feyla slowed, venturing a glance.  They looked so happy...

"Did you find what you needed, Dearest Heart?" asked the man, looking at her as if he already had.

"Oh, yes.  But Albre-bear, there was a man in the atlas section having an absolute breakdown.  Shouting and carrying on.  Said he lost someone," replied the young woman.

"He didn't frighten you, did he?"

"No, I'm fine now.  It was just sad.  To  lose someone like that."

He wrapped his arm around her.  "Well, if I lost you, I would go to the atlases too."

"Whatever for?"

"To help me find you again."

They strolled away, still cooing sweet nothings to each other.  Feyla chuckled sadly.  Even in her wildest daydreams, she still could picture her and Sedgewick acting like that.  Not that she'd want to.  The thought of some of the nicknames she and Beryn had shared still made her cringe.  But that poor man they'd been talking about...

I wonder if he's still here, Feyla thought.

Maybe the atlas section would have a map of the city.  That would be useful.  And while she was there, it wouldn't hurt to check on the man.  If Sedgewick was having a breakdown somewhere, she hoped someone would check on him.

Although he probably wouldn't act very grateful, she thought with a smile.  It faded a moment later.  Sedgewick.  Was he safe?  Did she even actually stand a chance at finding him?

Feyla pushed those thoughts aside as she finally reached the atlas section.  She quickly grabbed a map to the city and went over to the nearby tables.  Feyla's aqua eyes scanned the area but nothing was there.  Well, she thought, as her eyes landed on a forgotten coat. No one, at least.  She picked up the coat only to drop it immediately.

It was Sedgewick's.

Feyla snatched up the coat and broke into a run.  He'd been here!  She could find him, he couldn't have gotten far.  Shelves blazed past her as she scanned frantically for him.  Should she call out his name?  What if someone looking for him heard?

Finally giving up on the library, Feyla burst onto the street.  She soured the people at the bottom of the library's stairs but saw nothing.  Where would he have gone? 

Think, Feyla, think, she thought as a sick feeling turned her stomach.

She called up all she knew about the city, which wasn't that much.  It had been years.  But even though she didn't know the city, she did know Sedgewick.

Okay, stay calm.  He has to be staying somewhere but he's smart enough not to use the nice place he usually does.  At the same time, whenever he's trying to lay low and do something quickly he always finds the cheapest, dirtiest places, I mean, does he have a six sense for which ones are the worst?  Those boats he picked were awful and...  No getting sidetracked.  Where's the worst area in the city?

Feyla sucked in a breath when she remembered where it was.  She fled down the steps, cursing the fact that she was too short and they were too big for her to take two at a time.  Turning left, she stuck to the walkways.  No time for pole boats right now.  Sedgewick's coat flared behind her as she rushed on, shouting apologies to people she passed.  Where was he?  Why did they both have to be so short?!  Feyla's hair slapped her face and she shoved it aside, desperate to see everything. 

The walkway turned into a bridge as it stretched over a canal.  Feyla paused at the top, using the additional height to survey the area.  But there was only one boat in the canal and the only passenger was an irritated-looking Northlander with ill-fitting brown and orange...clothes.

The bustle of people around her faded as Feyla realized who she was staring at.  Her voice caught in her throat and for a terrifying moment, visions of her standing there in silent shock until he drifted out of sight forever tormented her.  She swallowed.  Relief encircled her like a warm blanket while shock stabbed at her like a winter's chill.  Feyla meant to shout something romantic like, "I found you," or even just his name.  What came out was rather different.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR, YOU IDIOT?!"

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Author's Note:  Hey, guys!  Sorry this was late. I've had a busy week and this chapter gave me a lot of trouble.  Hope you liked it, though!