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'That's my boy,' Ganymar says.

I don't understand -- what is his boy? I want to ask him what he means...

"islands in the sky", pg. 235

"Do you understand, now?" Juno says to me when she comes for us.

All golems may hear other golems.

The rules of logic say that this does not prevent humans or demons, or whatever I am, from also hearing them. Sometimes, though, I wish it did.

Golems can't wish. Golems who used to be people can only remember what they used to wish.

I have always been able to wish. Even if I didn't know what it was I wished for; even if I didn't know, at first, that I wished for anything at all. But when I close my eyes, Eira's memories chase like clouds across my mind's sky, and I remember what he used to wish. For interesting stories; for new cats to come play; for Valentine to become a person and stay with him and Juno and Ganymar always. They are small, soft wishes, boyish and sure of their simplicity... but they are not mine. I am too complicated now, I think. And I am not a boy.

So Ganymar could not have been talking about me. Perhaps he was talking about Eira? I would have asked him, but that was when I found Eira's city, and the memory that Ganymar must forget.

Golems don't cry.

Ganymar looks from Juno to me to Juno again. However, he does not ask what Juno means. And she does not explain.

Golems can't lie.

Yes, I answer Juno.

Then, No.

The Duck lifts its wing to let me crouch by Valentine's side; he hasn't woken since it found him.

For a moment, peculiarly clear, I see him shadowed by a different set of wings, under a different sky. The double-vision seizes me with a sudden bright determination. I slip a hand into the pocket of my jacket, which hardly covers Valentine at all, and touch the dragon's egg.

He was going to be a person again, I say. Only he went too far away and I -- Eira -- he wanted to follow him, to find him again. That was a part of Eira. That was his wish.

"Demons don't want to be people again," Juno says, shaking her head. "All golems know that."

The price of bringing a golem to life is paid by the golem, forever.

But I am not a golem anymore.

I take the dragon's egg and carefully wrap Valentine's fingers around its luminous whorls. It shivers in his hand, as if it dreams of hatching. His eyelids flicker.

"Eira?" he croaks.

I still don't have my own name, I tell him, but I am also still not him.

At the sound of my voice Valentine's eyes fly all the way open.


I look up to smile at Juno and Ganymar, and I say: for now.