“Hey, Parshir,” Marga called, holding up a hand in greeting. “Are Eksha and Kalai at the gathering hall?”

“Yep,” Parshir said. “They’re waiting for you.” He glanced at Luca, brows furrowed. “You bringing her along?”

Marga nodded. Parshir shook his head, rolled his eyes, and grunted disapprovingly. “Hey,” Marga said, “Don’t be so sour. You can play too if you want.”

“Nah.” Parshir stepped away from the table and ushered them past with a sweeping gesture of his arms. “Go on. Somebody has to keep track of comings and goings.”

As they passed, Luca managed, a slight timid shake in her voice, to say: “Have a good evening, Parshir.”

“Keep your good evenings to yourself,” Parshir replied. “You have a lot of nerve, but not a lot of brain.”

Marga moved so that Luca was in front of her, Parshir behind her. Luca didn’t glance over to see what look the two of them exchanged. “Parshir still thinks I’m some kind of spy,” Luca said quietly. “Ever since I got that letter from my brother. I think he assumes I’m going to turn on you and lead the army to Etyslund, or something.”

“I don’t think you’d do something like that. Besides, if the Invictans don’t know where we are, I don’t think a few letters sent by the same networks everyone else uses are going to change that.”

Luca grinned. “Well, I didn’t say I thought Parshir was smart.”

Marga nodded sagely as the two of them came to the gathering-hall’s door. “Now just to let you know, we do play for stakes at this table.”

Luca raised an eyebrow. “Money?” That was odd, not the Valer way.

“No, no.” Marga held out her hands in front of her, palms open. “We divide up duties this way, chores around the village that haven’t gotten done. Okay, come on in.” She held the door open for Luca.

From inside, a thrumming, pulsing noise, melodic notes skillfully played. It sounded like no instrument Luca had heard before.

When she stepped inside, the music stopped and a man with a green and brown tattoo of a bear stood up quickly from his seat at a table in the far corner. He started to flash a grin, then his smile froze, and he blinked, turning his head to the side a bit. “Hey, come on in. Who’re…”

Marga stepped into the room. “Kalai!” she called out, and the man relaxed a bit. “This is Luca. She’ll be joining us tonight.”

“Luca?” The other man seated at the table barked a short laugh. “Luca Buday? Didn’t expect to ever see her around here.”

“Eksha, she’s right there you know.” Another woman at the table spoke up, looking up from behind the pages of a cloth-bound book.

“Heh, right, sorry.” Eksha shrugged. “Well, feel free to sit down if you want.” He gestured at one of the open seats, and Luca stepped forward. She brushed her hand along the back of the chair, the knobs at either end, the engravings along the backing. She pulled the chair out and sat down. It had a soft, embroidered cushion that sank comfortably under her weight.

Kalai returned to his seat, next to Luca, and readjusted his instrument. It was held over his shoulder by a strap of cloth, and the instrument itself was like a guitar, but not like a Valer guitar. This sort of instrument, Luca had only seen before in the dense cities of the Gaurl Core, where electricity was easy to come by. A cable ran from it to a small box under the table, from which the sound issued. That box was wired to the floor – a battery lying beneath the gathering hall, no doubt. With each note, the click of the strings was drowned out by an otherworldly thrumming, reverberating and echoing like a chorus.

Kalai’s hands danced across the neck of the instrument, leaping between thin metal boundaries. The scales climbed up and down and continued, blending into what should by rights have been an atonal cacophony. When Kalai picked up speed, Luca assumed he was about to play a wrong note, and she instinctually cringed, holding a hand near her ear. But everything just… worked. Each note continued to ring for an unnaturally long duration and it all just… worked together.

“What do you think?” Kalai said, leaning toward Luca. “Of the music, I mean.”

“It’s nice,” Luca replied, then looked over at the table. A deck of cards, blue-backed, face-down, was stacked neatly at the center. As Kalai played a few final notes, then a long trilling chord formed by running his fingernails along the strings in a staggered sequence, Marga returned to her seat. Kalai let the notes ring until they faded and then reached under the table. The lingering sound suddenly stopped, and Kalai pushed the instrument under his feet.

“Great!” He leaned towards the table. “Now Luca, if you’re going to play, don’t complain if you don’t like what you win.”

“Of course,” Luca said. “I’ll just… what are we playing for?” She reached over to look under the edge of one of the cards. Kalai caught her wrist and eased her back from the deck. He picked up the cards, and they danced and shuffled in his hands. When he was done, he set the deck in front of himself and began tossing cards from the top of the stack to each seated party.

When the game was done, Luca held a small, stiff slip of paper informing her that she was in charge of cleaning the water filters and refilling tanks throughout town. Since it was so late at night, everyone agreed that the attendees would not take on their tasks until the next morning. Kalai, Marga, and Luca stepped outside together and spoke of trifles for a while. Luca found herself laughing more than she had in years, and by the time Kalai left to go relieve Parshir of his watch, he was laughing too.

“Well, it was a pleasure. I’ll see you later, Luca.” Kalai gave a wave and departed.

After some time of standing there in comfortable silence, Luca said to Marga: “Why are you being so kind to me, Mz. Zelenko? You don’t need to.” She regretted her words immediately, and held her hands together nervously. “I just mean… it’s not that I don’t appreciate…”

“Did you know I have three children of my own?” The corners of Marga’s mouth upturned as she turned her head to Luca. “My youngest daughter, Hilda – you remind me of her in a way. And she’s always been eager to follow in my footsteps.” Marga placed a hand on Luca’s shoulder. “But some day, I hope she’ll be as strong as you.”

Luca nearly laughed out loud, but looking into Marga’s eyes, she saw that the older woman was quite serious. She quietly brushed aside Marga’s hand and looked out toward the center of the village. “Thank you, Mz. Zelenko… Marga. Thank you. Some day, I hope I’ll be as strong as you think I can be.”

Then Marga reached out and wrapped her hand around the inside of Luca’s elbow. They stood there for a moment, forearms parallel, until Marga pulled away. “You’re as welcome here as anybody else,” she said. “Never forget that. You’re a Valer now, and you belong with us for as long as you choose.”