The Great City was the flower of the planet of Sihnon. The cityscape was a mélange of soaring marble arches, pools of clear blue water, and majestic trees, branches towering high in the air. Every building looked as grand as a cathedral, every citizen exuded prosperity, and there was not a speck of dirt to be seen from Dockside to Aerie Heights.

The garden of House Madrassa was heady with the scent of roses. The rosebushes were arranged in neat rows alongside a path paved with loose small stones. Mal's footsteps crunched as he followed Inara down the path. Inara turned the corner and they entered in a small courtyard. Two curved marble benches stood on either side of a pair of tall bronze doors, decorated with images of flowing water.

"You should wait for me, here." Inara gestured at a bench, and her hand trembled.

Mal took her hand in his. "Inara, if you're walking into a fight, I want to be at your back."

Inara shook her head. "Just stay here. " Her fingers clutched at Mal's, tightly. She met his eyes, and he saw the anguish within. "Please."

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The carillon at the gate of the Great Temple tolled. Birds, startled by the noise, flew into the air. Jayne watched them fly away. "Those are some fat birds. You could make a good pie out of 'em."

Zoë laughed. "Pull out your piece and shoot one, you're looking at twenty years in an Alliance cell."

"For shootin' a bird?" Jayne raised his eyebrows. "You're pulling my leg, aren't ya?"

Zoë's mouth turned up at one corner. "We're in sacred space," she explained. "It would be blasphemy to shed blood here. And blasphemy and treason go hand in hand on Sihnon."

A group of men and women walked by, proudly wearing the yellow armband that declared their pilgrimage. A young girl walked with them, carefully balancing a paper pagoda made of intricately folded currency on a wooden tray.

"Gorramn," Jayne muttered, his eyes fixed on the money. "Must be fifty thousand there." He stood up and followed the group to the Temple doorway.

Jayne stuck his head inside. He peered through the thick curtain of burning incense, his eyes watering. A large golden Statue sat in the back, surrounded by tables laden with offerings. Pilgrims had brought fresh flowers, platters of food and money. Easily a dozen separate tables were covered in gold coin, stacks of paper money, and even bars of platinum. A chortle of delight escaped Jayne's mouth and he rubbed his hands together.

A firm hand closed around his shoulder and marched him back to the bench. "Don't even think about it," Zoë said in a low voice.

"People leave money lying around; it's stupid to expect them not to take it."

"They're religious offerings, Jayne. Again, that would be blasphemy." Zoë pointed at the bell tower and the drum tower that were on opposite sides of the courtyard. "Local government is watching every move that's made down here. You lay a finger on that money; you're going to come up a digit short."

"Ruttin' tightass world." Jayne sighed. "How much longer we got to wait? It's thirty minutes past the time Badger's guy was supposed to show."

"We'll wait until he shows up," Zoë replied. "Captain needs us to nail down this job."

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Geneva Sweetson was so old that she looked as if she might crumble into dust any minute. Her parlor was filled to overflowing with massive furniture, bric-a-brac, lacquered screens and jade Buddha's. She set down her tea cup on a mahogany table that was nearly entirely covered with ceramic statues of cats.

"Do you really think that you can find my Fluffy?" the old woman asked. Her lower lip trembled, her eyes damp with tears. "She's been missing for a week and I'm so worried."

"It would be our pleasure to do so," Simons reassured her.

Lady Sweetson nodded. "My friend Lady Mayfair, you found her husband's will for her?"

"I remember," Simon replied. He glanced at River, her face completely concealed by her veil. He looked down at her lap, her fingers moving rapidly in a pattern. "Three- no, four months ago." His sister's thumbs touched together quickly, in an L. "On Londinium."

The client nodded. "Lily assured me that you were not frauds, that she is a truly gifted Reader."

"We are both willing and able to assist you with this matter, Lady Sweetson."

She met Simon's eyes, her face sad. "What do I need to do?"

"Think of Fluffy," Simon said. "Close your eyes. Think of when she first came into your life, how it felt to have her company."

Lady Sweetson closed her eyes. Simon turned to his sister. She held up one long, white finger. River listened to the lady's thoughts, and a tune chimed in her mind; a silver song with lilting flutes and soft, sweet bells.

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Mal sat on the bench in the courtyard, head bowed. Inara had needed him to come. She hadn't asked; she hadn't had to. She was shook up something fierce and that was unlike her. But she hadn't wanted him to walk into House Madrassa with her; she'd told him to wait outside the door. He always had to wait for her permission to enter. Mal was always waiting for her to make her move. And where had that got either one of them?

Ma swung open the doors and stepped inside the House. The sound of his steps was muffled by a plush carpet, swirled with black and red in an intricate pattern. He followed the sound of a raised voice. A familiar one, but he couldn't quite place it.

He turned down a hallway that was lit with a series of low hanging lamps. An antechamber to one side was filled with long black net veils and flowing burgundy cloaks. Mal draped a veil over his head, threw a cloak on, and continued down the hall. A set of tall wooden doors was ajar. Mal leaned forward and looked through the crack.

Inara knelt at the foot of a stairs that led to a long dais, her hands bound behind her. A Companion in the traditional black and gold veil stood at her side. On the platform, aligned in a row, were three ornately carved wooden chairs. One of them held a young girl veiled in burgundy, next to her a slim woman in black with long platinum hair, and the last an elderly matron, veiled in funereal white.

"Has House Madrassa so little respect for the laws of the Guild, that it embraces a poisonous serpent in its bosom?" The Companion next to Inara turned her head to look down at her. Saffron's mouth curled into a smug smile. Mal's jaw dropped.

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The sound of bells filled the Temple courtyard. Jayne glared up at the tower. "Another half hour wasted."

Zoë frowned. "He's a full two hours late. We've never had this late a drop from Badger."

A crowd of schoolchildren marched by, dressed in identical uniforms. Jayne bought a box of rice candy from a vendor and munched as they waited.

"Excuse me," asked a cultured voice. Zoë looked up into a pair of wide blue eyes, covered by spectacles. "Do you know where I can find the shrine of Guan Yin?"

"I'm afraid you're on the wrong side of the city," Zoë replied. "The Lotus Shrine is in Aerie Heights, near the University."

The man bowed, his black silk jacket swinging forward. "Xie xie." A small blue ball fell from his sleeve onto the ground. He hurried away, and Zoë leaned forward and retrieved it.

"Looks like we made the drop after all," she said, tucking the ball into her pocket, and rose to her feet.

Two soldiers in wooden armor rounded the topiaries in front of them, and stood before Zoë and Jayne. "Sir? You need to come with us," instructed the shorter trooper, a woman.

"Me?" Jayne asked, pointing at himself.

She ignored him. "Sir, you are bound by law for violating Codex 237, Section 43, Part 7, Item 58 of the Code of law of the Great City." Plastic cuffs were closed around Jayne's hands.

"What about her?" Jayne asked, tilting his head at Zoë. His voice rose, and people turned to see what was happening "What about-"The female trooper jabbed him in the neck with a hypo and Jayne sagged. The troopers dangled the unconscious mercenary between them.

The male trooper handed Zoë a plastic card, with tiny text scrolling across it. "Your friend may be retrieved at Seaway Station, Jade District. Please allow three hours for processing. Fines may be paid in credits or currency only. You may bring your own barrister." The trooper pointed out the reverse of the card. "We provide this list of names for reference only. Thank you for visiting the Great City, jewel of Sihnon."

The troopers dragged Jayne away, his boots dragging in the dust. Zoë watched him go, and sighed. "Finesse, my ass." She bent and picked up Jayne's discarded candy box from the ground. "The Captain's going to love this."

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Simon leaned forward in his chair, his eyes intent. "Think of the softness of her fur, my lady. What color is she?"

"White," she replied, her voice soft.

"Think of her in repose," Simon suggested. "In your mind's eye, see your kitten as she sleeps."

The silver song filled River's mind like an orchestra. She slipped from the room, following the melody. It played louder as she walked down the hallway towards the bedrooms, but grew faint as she entered the master bedroom. She pivoted to walk back down the hallway, creeping slowly from door to door. In the last one on the corridor, the song soared to life.

She opened the door to a bedchamber. This was the room of a young girl. Disks for the vid console lay on the patterned silk bedspread. River read the titles: A Ball of Yarn, Parliament of the Worlds, The Smallest Dancer. A reel played in River's head, shining and merry, pure pleasure. She took a moment to spin around the room, enjoying the song. Her veil whipped and spun around her knees. Lindel, River thought. The girl was Lindel; her cat was Fluffy.

She followed the song to a tall enameled armoire. Holographic images of dancers whirled across its surface, a dress ball that would never end. An ornate golden key was in the lock, a red tassel hanging from it. River turned the key. Very small clothes of fine make hung within, real silk with embroidery of gold and platinum. She leaned forward and picked up a wooden chest from the bottom of the closet. The song roared in her head, painfully. She lifted the delicately lid, and curled inside, on a bed of blue velvet, slept the kitten. Her chest rose in small puffs and an ear twitched.

"You're found," River whispered to the cat. She frowned, her fingers stroking the cat's ear. "But you weren't the one who was lost, were you?" She picked up the cat in her arms and headed down the hallway. Just outside the parlor door, River froze in place. Her arms tightened, and the cat mewled softly. "Jayne?"

-TBC-