Pomegranates full and fine by Unknown Author

Tango a little bitterly. The anger and violation she had felt in the court were mostly gone, vanished into old pain.
    Sin sighed and shifted forward so that Tango could get off the motorcycle. “You’ve heard that a Kithain lord’s domain comes to reflect his personality? It works the other way around, too. A lord reflects his domain. Any Kithain who took over the rulership of Toronto would eventually start to act like Duke Michael does. That’s one of the reasons he’s been duke as long as he has — who would want that kind of personality?”
    “So what was Michael like before he became duke? Did he take on Toronto’s personality, or did Toronto take on his?”
    “Both. Like attracts like.” Sin put on his helmet again. “Riley’s apartment is 3D. Good luck, Tango.”
    He revved the motorcycle and drove off, merging with the traffic that streamed down the street.
    “Thanks a lot,” Tango muttered to herself. She turned to the door of the building and fumbled with the keys that Epp had given her. The boggan had slid them off a ring so full of keys that she probably could have unlocked half the doors in the city. One key was for the front door, she had told Tango, two others were for locks on Riley’s apartment. A fourth was for the cabinet where he was supposed to be keeping the papers and files related to Highsummer Night. From the way Epp had rolled her eyes, Tango guessed that there must have been more than a little antagonism between the pooka and the boggan.
    The cabinet key was clearly smaller than the lock on the front door, but she had to try all three of the other keys before getting the right one. Inside, the apartment building looked just as old as it had from outside. Cooking odors — curry, garlic, cabbage, beans
    — drifted out of apartments. As she climbed the stairs up to the third floor, she also caught the sounds of a saxophone and a violin, each playing radically different melodies. The scent of oil paints from apartment 3C teased her nostrils. Tango remembered what Riley had said about the artists and musicians in his building; if she had worked a kenning, she probably could have felt the faint Glamour that their dreams and acts of creation generated. She unlocked Riley’s door and opened it.
    Light spilled from the hallway into an apartment that had been ransacked.
    “Oh, shit,” breathed Tango. Without taking her eyes from the narrow path of illumination that spread out from the door, she felt along the wall for a light switch. She found one and flicked it on. The disaster in the apartment made her wish she hadn’t. Books and papers were everywhere. Everything was out of order. Through a door, she could see Riley’s bedroom. The sheets had been pulled off the bed and clothing was exploding out of half-opened drawers. Odds and ends of clothing were strewn throughout the living room as well. “Oh shit, Riley. What have you gotten yourself...”
    “Don’t worry.” Epp swept into the apartment and closed the door behind her. “It always looks like this.” Almost compulsively, she began to tidy up, sorting through papers and stacking books.
    Tango took another look at the apartment. Epp was right. This wasn’t the mess of a ransacking. The bed was simply unmade. Books had been dropped in piles, papers in disheveled heaps. There were dirty dishes scattered around, one with a dried-up piece of pizza on it. Souvenirs and knickknacks were placed in the oddest places, but they were upright. The clothing strewn around the living room lay not so much as if it had been thrown about, but simply as if someone had walked around the room, undressing as they went, leaving clothing where it fell. Epp uncovered a glossy magazine with its centerfold flopping out, and flushed. A newspaper settled back over the offending photograph. Epp moved on.
    “I told him a hundred times that if I had the chance, I was going to clean this place from top to bottom.” The boggan looked around and wiped the back