Kol snapped awake again as a shape pelted across the room toward him. He had no chance to clear his bleary mind. He had no time to question his surroundings – not his cell in the Pinnacle. Kol slid from the couch and knelt low on the floor.

“What the hell, Jaleel?” Orson yelled. “For God’s sake! Can’t I trust anyone to talk with me in this damn boat?”

“Let Jaleel explain.” Enoa said. “He usually knows a lot more than the rest of us.”

Kol remembered himself. He looked toward the Aesir’s open door and the failing daylight. Orson stood with something pale white in his hands, the view blocked by Jaleel reaching out and Enoa with her staff leaned against one arm.

But Kol spared them no more than a glance. The flying shape had come to a stop, perched on the back of the couch. It was an animal of some kind, heavily quilled like a porcupine, but with a mass of webbing beneath its forepaws. It clutched a strawberry between its paws and ate cheerily.

“I don’t believe he’s a threat to us, Kol.” Max nodded to the animal. “I think he’s their pet.”

“Wesley is very friendly,” Dr. Stan said. “Just don’t startle him. Orson, maybe we should hear out Jaleel. He hasn’t been reckless with our safety so far.”

“I don’t know any of you, truly,” Max said. “But this is beyond reckless. Why would you have a Galactic Infiltration Model in your floor?”

“I don’t know,” Orson said. “Jaleel, why do we have a Galactic Infiltration Model in my floor?

Kol took a second look at the object Orson held. It was an earless head. Its eyes were open. It saw Kol looking and made eye contact.

“Hello!” The head smiled. “I would like to upgrade to a window seat! I want to have polaroids from my flight.”

Kol yelled and fell back against the couch. The motion jarred the odd pet, and it began to chatter at him, still holding onto the strawberry.

Kol moved away. He averted his gaze from both the pet and the talking head. He still felt the overwhelming exhaustion of Thought Fatigue. Only the adrenaline of his sudden shock held it at bay.

“Now we’ve got Kol being all weird too.” Orson pointed at him. “Can one of you call Wesley? Let Kol be zonked out in peace, alright? Then we’ll deal with the other passenger.”

“Wesley,” Enoa called. “Come back to me, Wesley. You’re sharp, Sweetie, and we’re letting the Maroses have the couch today. Come on.”

Wesley chattered, but he took flight again, soaring across the room and landing on Enoa’s shoulder.

“I can explain.” Jaleel took advantage of the pause. “Just don’t hurt Jim. Don’t hurt him! He’s totally safe. Cathy knows I have him. She kept a bunch after the attack at Teddy’s. We’re working on reprogramming them. If I get him to work again, he can train with us and help us out.”

“Well, you’re not in Cathy’s crew,” Orson said. “And in my crew we tell each other when we’re going to keep a really dangerous whatever-this-is in the floor. I didn’t think I had to explain that in the ground rules. I thought common sense would keep us from hiding murderous robots on board. I guess not!”

“Hemera Stardyne had little control of their androids,” Max said. “Jaleel, I’m sure your heart is in the right place, but you need to rethink this. I don’t know who Cathy is, but anyone, including the Liberty Corps, who use these robots is placing everyone around them in immense danger.”

“Jaleel is better at this than they are,” Enoa said. She held out her fingers toward Wesley. He’d finished his strawberry, and she scratched his chin.

“I’m assuming the rest of him is down there somewhere?” Orson asked. “How the hell did you get him packed? When the hell did you get him packed that I didn’t notice?”

“I only have a carry on bag.” The head spoke again. “I am traveling light, so it would be easy to move me to another seat.”

“The body has no power,” Jaleel said. “I slid him there when you were hanging out with Teddy, before we left. Jim can’t move, and the head doesn’t seem to have any shut-off. But the head only talks when you make eye contact with him anyway. He’s interactive, like a Furby or one of those Japanese robot dogs.”

“Oh, he’s a Furby!” Orson knelt and set the head back in the floor.

“Please let me know about switching seats.” The head kept its animated tone.

“Yeah, we’ll do that.” Orson slid the floor shut. “Well, no worries, Jaleel. If he’s a Furby, that’s totally fine! Except children’s toys never tried to kill me. One of those robots tried to dig my eyes out, a couple weeks ago, or did you forget that?”

“Dr. Stan,” Jaleel said. “Did you have time to get information about the Liberty Corps robotics program? About those Redhead probes and stuff?”

“I did,” she said. “But I didn’t read any of it yet.”

“Maybe there’s something in there about working with the Jims,” Jaleel said. “That might be all I need to get him set up to help us, instead. I mean, the Liberty Corps inherited them from the Hierarchia, and they got them from Stardyne, and they got them from their shady outer-space stuff. So what’s one more? Except I’m not trying to make money with him. I’m trying to learn about him and have him help us.”

“I suppose we could take a look,” Dr. Stan said.

“Honestly,” Orson said. “I might’ve been open to this if you came to me when we were clearing out at Teddy’s. But you let us live with that thing under our feet for weeks, so I’m really not.”

“You absolutely would not have been open to it, ever,” Enoa said. “I’m not exactly a Jim fan, either, but there’s no way you would have gone along with him bringing that here. And he hasn’t so much as made a single sound in almost two weeks. He hasn’t done anything to threaten us.”

“You do not know that,” Orson said.

“Franklin and Royce took that entire canister,” Enoa continued. “See what they found out.”

“I think you’re just a little grumpy because your sensors didn’t pick up on him,” Jaleel said. “And that’s why this could be so great! He can show us stuff like holes in our security.”

“The HUD would have caught him if he turned on,” Orson said. “Fine, if Dr. Stan finds information about them on the floppies, we’ll look at it together. As long as he stays deactivated and in decapitated-head mode.”

“Alas, poor Yorick,” Max said.

“What’s that? Shakespeare?” Orson asked.

“Hamlet.” Max nodded.

“Now it really is like the old days. If my original crew had any heads in the floor, Haydn would’ve been quoting plays at it. Except we would’ve been honest about the head being there in the first place!”

When Orson raised his voice again, Wesley jumped from Enoa’s shoulder. He circled the ceiling, wings extended, gliding above their heads.

“Come on down, Sweetie,” Enoa said. “Let’s go back to my bunk. I’ll get you some more food, and we can take a nap. We’re all tired, aren’t we?”

But Wesley ignored her and flew out the ship’s open door. Enoa and Jaleel both shouted and jumped out after him.

Kol couldn’t see what happened next, but he heard them both yell a second time. Then Sirona’s threat began again. Whatever device was at work in the clearing had caught sight of the Liberty Corps armor on Jaleel.

“Liberty Corps,” Sirona said. “You already know me, and you know the power that I have.” Jaleel jumped back inside the Aesir. “I am Sirona Birgham, and I hold the peace now.”

Jaleel ducked out of sight and the message abruptly stopped.

“It’s probably just a warning,” Orson said.

“I don’t want to be cooked!” Jaleel said. “You’re already mad at me, and you’d have a hard time fighting something that looks like your girlfriend, no matter what.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Enoa stepped back inside. The other escapees followed after her. Wesley was now perched on Syly’s shoulder. He made more of his chattering noises, and the odd woman was giggling as if reminiscing with an old friend.

“We have a wait ahead of us.” Orson cycled the door shut behind the newcomers. “So get comfortable, and I’ll see what we’ve got to eat. I think the two armchairs are open. And there might be some room there on the couch, if one of you doesn’t mind getting cozy with Max and Kol. Or if Kol decides he prefers the floor.”

“This place isn’t what I expected.” Melanthymos sat in one of the armchairs. Aneirin took the other. Syly stayed on her feet and directed a long comment at Orson.

“She is very hungry,” Aneirin explained. “The Liberty Corps had so little for her to eat.” Syly answered him. Enoa passed her two strawberries. Syly ate the first and fed the second to Wesley.

“We’ll see if we’ve got something she’d like.” Orson opened the freezer and started rooting through plastic packaging. “You’re all headed to the Eldest Oak place right?”

“That’s right,” Melanthymos said. “So we’re not asking you to go out of your way.”

“Wow, that place only has a few glamered rooms.” Orson began to stack packages on the counter. “Between the three of you and the Maroses, you’ll have most of the place full.”

“We use only two rooms.” Aneirin offered a small smile. He reached out and took Melanthymos’s right hand.

“We were imprisoned for a long time,” she said. Jaleel made a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough. He walked deeper into the ship, away from the common area. Enoa shot him at look, but covered her own mouth with her hands.

“Oh, uh, congratulations.” Orson said. “It’s good to find silver linings or whatever, especially after a day as long as this one. So these are our options for food—”

Syly began to speak again. She looked between Orson and Aneirin and then Wesley, as if the small animal could also interpret for her.

“She wonders. Is there food she can eat?” Aneirin leaned around the side of his chair and grimaced when the motion placed weight on his right hand. “She eats only the plants.”

“Well, we’ll see what I’ve got,” Orson said. “And Enoa might be able to help her out. She only eats the plants, too.”

Aneirin said more in Syly’s language. She made a small smile and a hesitant nod toward Orson. Then she returned to her interaction with Wesley, whispering to him again.

“Orson!” Jaleel ran back into the room with sheets of paper in one hand. “We…” He looked at Kol and Max. “We got more messages. Sirona says we’ll stop tripping the warning if we don’t have Liberty Corps armor on anymore.”

“I figured.” Orson grabbed a page from Jaleel. “You’re probably good to change now. We’ll have to see if we can get something else for Kol to wear. God knows what security they might have waiting at the lodge.”

“And she also sent one to me,” Jaleel said. “What’s this about?” Orson walked beside him and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, she’s writing for Teddy. He wrote this big message congratulating us on being alive and writing about how we’re in Tater Tot country, or something like that.”

“Your friend, Theodore,” Max said. “I’m assuming – however you are communicating – that he is not at his residence, or former residence, near the federal holdings in Nevada? Is that area now occupied by the Liberty Corps?”

Everyone turned toward Max. Orson set the printed message aside on the countertop, where Jaleel collected it again.

“And how would you know any of that about Ted?” Orson asked. “That’s not exactly public knowledge.”

“If it’s not public knowledge,” Max said. “You put far too much information into your memoir. I did not need five months at the Naval Intelligence Center to figure out where he lived, at least generally speaking.”

“You read Wayfarers Highway?” Orson asked. “Was this a ‘you’ thing or a Maros group thing?”

“I had nothing to do with this.” Kol shook his head when Orson looked his way.

Max reached to the bag on the floor beside him. Kol recognized it as the one that had been tied to his wheelchair’s handle. Max opened it and pulled out a hardcover book with a sketch of a forest on its cover.

“The knights never took it from you?” Kol remembered Max paging through it on the long rover drive through the burned highway near the gulf coast. “You brought it all this way?”

“I did,” Max said. “The knights likely did not know its significance. And I’m sure I am now quite in debt to my interlibrary loan network. It might be cheaper to buy them a new copy, after all these weeks.”

“Library?” Orson left the counter. Syly began to speak again, in a concerned murmur that Wesley seemed to imitate. But Orson passed to the other side of the cabin. He took the book when Max offered it to him. He turned through the pages.

“This one’s autographed!” Orson turned the book back toward Jaleel and Enoa. “This is the copy I gave to Kash! That asshole! He re-gifted my book to the public library in Portland, Oregon! I can’t believe him!”

“I can,” Enoa said. “Kash doesn’t dislike you, but I don’t think he’s interested enough to read about you. And Orson, let’s figure out what we’re making for food. Poor Syly is still waiting.” Syly also commented.

“Oh, right.” Orson handed the book back to Max. “We can talk about that later. Alright, Jaleel, what did Teddy say about tater tots?”

“He says that this region is the birthplace of the legendary tot.” Jaleel began to read and took on a slightly affected voice, lower in pitch. “You are in the homeland of this global staple, and if you have any left, it would be appropriate to appreciate them in their home country.”

“Don’t do the impression,” Orson groaned. “He doesn’t like that. But yeah, we have some tots left. They’re all potato, so that’s good for our people who only eat the plants. I can get started on that.” Orson found a large package on the frozen pile, and he returned the rest to the freezer.

“There is one more thing,” Jaleel said. “But I wanted us to figure out food first so you didn’t leave us hungry.” He held the last page toward Orson.

“The Manifest Destiny just launched itself from the Pinnacle,” Orson read. “It’s moving down the border with the Alliance.”

“Is it coming this way?” Max asked.

“Not yet,” Orson said. “So far all it did was tractor beam a privately owned glider in the border area and blow up a bridge made since destabilization. Seems like they’re trying to return the area to the way it was before the Hierarchia was destroyed.”

“I’m going to assume whatever intelligence you receive is correct,” Max said. “If there is information you stole from the Liberty Corps that can aid the Alliances in the battles to come, I hope you share it. We may have triggered an escalation in this conflict.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a lot to figure out,” Orson said. “We need to hide before we eat. Jaleel, please drive us over to the tree line. I’ll start getting the tarp ready. That way we won’t leave our hungry passengers waiting too long.”

“Orson,” Enoa said. “Was that Eloise or Franklin who wrote about the Manifest Destiny?”

“Eloise,” he said.

“Can we also ask about getting my letter?” Enoa asked. “We have a lot to do, and Eloise is hurt. But I’ve waited too long already for this.” She looked at Kol for the first time since his interrupted dozing.

Kol heard the sound of her shaping mind, still strained, roiling again.

“I can give the coordinates,” Max said. “I’ll tell you the way.”

“No.” Kol stood. “I will. It’s my fault you never had that letter. If you’re ready, I’ll help you get it now.”

* * *

On its long journey from the Pinnacle Holdfast, many saw the Manifest Destiny as it skirted the southward spines of the Rocky Mountains.

Mark Emerie was kneeling in his garden when he saw the shadow approaching. He worked the earth, nurtured it for corn and potatoes and all the seedlings that would carry his family through the highland winter.

Then the darkness spread like a slow, lazy cloud hiding the sun, but the shadow was solid and silent, and it moved against the wind. Mr. Emerie looked up.

He saw the Manifest Destiny rising above the mountains – a dragon peering from its cave.

Mr. Emerie hid. He stayed on the ground and pushed himself to his truck with his elbows and the sides of his knees. He crawled beneath it and lay, half-sunk in mud. He watched the shadow move and grow and spread across everything.

He could not, from his vantage point, see the massive ship pass over the rest of Hullbeck Plateau Township. He couldn’t even see the low door to his own home, a structure built by his own hand beneath a hill he’d hollowed to hide from the sky.

Mr. Emerie’s mind reeled. What time was it? He wore no watch and could not judge the angle of the sun through the ship’s impenetrable belly.

Was it still a school hour? Was his daughter still in pre-school, hidden with the other youngest children, all of them too young to remember a world before the fear of annihilation from above?

Or was she home, collected by his wife after her shift at the general store? Were they inside, hiding like they’d always planned, wondering about him, fearing for him, how he’d lost track of time working to feed them? Now he was trapped.

Everything his life had been for five years was clustered on that two-mile strip of land. Everything his life had been for five years could be erased as quickly as his last life had been destroyed.

He remembered the end of his last life, the home blown to splinters. In the quiet stillness of night, he still felt the three burned bodies. In his dreams, he heard the whine of the Thunderworks ships and the heavy tread of their war machines.

Thunderworks was gone. Their ships were gone. For five years that had been true.

But their shadow had returned to cover his entire world.

Mr. Emerie listened. He closed his eyes while the ship spread across his home and eclipsed the sun. He knew the size and the power of those vessels. And with his eyes closed he could hear it move. He heard the distant hiss of the steam plumes from its repulsors and rear propulsion. He could hear it working while everything below was left in its artificial twilight.

Mr. Emerie listened for the whine, the faint echoing gasp the Thunderbird carriers made before they opened fire and devastated the land and lives below.

He did not hear that sound. But he waited for it. He waited in defenseless terror until the sunlight again reached his closed eyes, faint under the truck.

Mr. Emerie waited there until the ship had gone to cast its shadow over other lives.

* * *

Enoa sensed the Lodge at the Eldest Oak before they arrived. It seemed to glow at the horizon, illumination seen only in the mind, but real and tangible, as if she could see it through the Aesir’s hull and the interwoven trees beyond.

She was already awake when the knock came on the bunk’s door.

“Hey, Enoa,” Jaleel said. “Orson says we’ll be there in a minute. He thinks the owners will want to see everybody because they’re hiding us.”

“Be right there.” Enoa tried to give her words more energy than she felt. She pulled her cloak around her shoulders and clipped her retracted staff at her belt. When she opened her door, Jaleel still stood there.

“Are you okay?” Jaleel spoke softly, like anything above a whisper might startle her back into her bunk.

“Just tired,” she said. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” He stepped aside so she could join him in the passage. “Tired too. Today was so long.”

“Oh good!” Orson called over his shoulder. “If we’re all ready, hopefully this will go quickly. I’ve gone through these check-ins before, but never with me leading, so I don’t totally know what to expect.”

Enoa walked into the main cabin. Kol, Max, and Syly sat on the couch, but only Max looked up at her. He gave a small smile. Enoa tried to return the expression.

But she felt too much, too many fears to do more than fake happiness. Her letter had been taken and read and hidden away from her. It was a violation, her privacy, her secrets, her answers. Her last link to Sucora had been sullied, wrenched away and warped.

And she feared it. She feared what she should have known months before, what she could have read. She feared the truth of her own weakness. What harm might have been altered if she’d read the letter when Sucora died?

But she could not fear the truth in peace. The fear of Helmont’s retribution mingled with it, the Manifest Destiny at large. And the journey to Knightschurch awaited – real training for her, real training that would have already begun if she’d followed Sucora’s hopes and wishes.

Enoa felt also the simple contented relief of being alive. The heist had succeeded, even with loss and danger. They had survived.

But none of what she felt was true happiness. Because their reprieve would not last. They would face Helmont again. She would face her other fears or they would find her.

Kol clenched his clasped hands. He’d removed his armor, wearing only his jumpsuit. His hair was back in its bun. He stared at his prosthetic without looking up, but Enoa saw a change in him, like the light he gave off flickered and dimmed, like he was trying to shrink in her presence.

Syly ignored all of this. She sat with a bowl of tater tots in her lap and happily ate, Wesley asleep beside her on the arm of the couch.

“I have taken shelter at a sanctuary,” Aneirin said. “It was old, an old place by your standards, far away east, in the east of this land.” He and Melanthymos still sat in the armchairs, but she slept, eyes tight, right hand outstretched and holding his.

“The biggest one used to be the Inn at the Crescent Moon.” Orson drove the Aesir down a winding road through trees. Enoa could see distant lights, but rain had started outside, and the water made a kaleidoscope of everything but the unmistakable shapes of tree trunks.

Enoa looked to the glow ahead. It was another unseen light like the one Kol carried. They were close.

She and Jaleel walked toward the front. The ship moved slowly, but there was no inertial compensation. None of the advanced systems were running. All the dashboard lights were dark, like they really were roaming the countryside in a camper.

Enoa followed the wall with her hand and sat behind Orson. Dr. Stan was still at the sensor monitor with floppies in her lap. She offered Enoa a small wave without looking up. Jaleel continued on to the front passenger’s seat.

“That old inn burned down,” Orson said. “Almost twelve years ago now.”

“No, no,” Aneirin said. “Not Crescent Moon. More north. Another forest.”

“There’s a place up in Vermont,” Orson said. “I’ve only been there once.”

“Perhaps,” Aneirin said.

The road rose up to meet a large building with an even larger tree beside it.

The tree was surely the eldest oak namesake for the lodge that stood in its shadow. The oak stretched knobby branches out in all directions. Some swung low along the ground, too close to the grass to walk beneath them. Other branches shot up into the sky, splaying their leaves like tiny fingers reaching for the stars. It dwarfed the inn, and its roots twisted above the ground and around the building, like a close embrace.

The lodge stood four stories tall and stretched in an ‘L’ shape. A marquee sign hung from the wide front porch. It read, ‘Lodge at The Eldest Oak’. There was other writing beneath it and a small symbol of a tree inside a crescent moon, like the symbols of the Dreamside Road keys. There were other signs too, obscured by the rain, where the first floor of the lodge seemed to be divided into a small store and a restaurant.

Up close, something about the building reminded Enoa of her lost home. She was thousands of miles away from the burned foundations of the Treasures from the Clouds to the Sea, but there was something similar, something familiar beyond the business-beneath-lodging construction.

But this was not the source of the glow. Up close, the large building had a strange light to it too, but it was a subtle thing. It was a shining presence that was almost lost in the real candles that marked each window ledge. The greater glow waited further in the trees.

Orson drove around the building and the great tree. He followed a gravel path that wrapped around them and led deeper into the forest.

There were other buildings that way, four small structures, no larger than sheds, with an old barn beyond them. By the headlights, she saw all were overgrown, their windows dirty, with peeling paint and splintered wood. The roof of the barn was partly caved in, cratered and split.

Or so it seemed. Enoa found the glow she’d seen from afar present all around the little buildings, so she looked closer.

It seemed then that the clinging vines were almost ornamental, purposely grown, not overgrown through neglect.

And there was no hole in the barn’s roof. The shadow at the edges of the hole was solid. She knew it, even though her eyes were not keen enough to be certain on their own, as if the wood was crafted and painted to appear destroyed.

“Lost in the woods,” Jaleel said. “We’re staying there? I know we’ve got to hide, but does it need to be beat up like that?”

“It isn’t,” Enoa said. “It’s some kind of illusion, I guess. It’s supposed to look like that.”

“You can see it too?” Orson nodded. “Interesting.” He came to a stop in front of the barn. The wide double doors slid aside, like they were automatic and triggered by the Aesir’s arrival.

“Did the Hierarchia teach Sucora any European illusion work?” Melanthymos asked. “Was that part of their Dawn Initiative?”

“I have no idea what that means,” Enoa said.

“We can talk tomorrow,” Melanthymos said. “I don’t know what they wanted to learn from indigenous people. That wasn’t my department, but the glamer is famous. Even if not just any shmoe can see it.”

“Glamour?” Jaleel asked. “Like in a fantasy book? Like it’s actually totally normal, but it looks like crap? Like Hogwarts. Or other illusion stuff in—”

“Stop.” Melanthymos interrupted. “Why would I read daydreams when I’ve lived the real damn thing for over fifty years? Glamer makes things look like what they’re not, sometimes even feel like it. Sometimes you can know it’s there and still not see it. Glamer is – shit I knew this – it’s number seventeen out of the one hundred and forty-two enigmatic processes the IHSA cataloged. Enoa can see it because her aunt learned a little of it and brought it home with her. Or she’s got some old European magic in her blood. The Hierarchia liked tracing the genetics of everything. Wouldn’t be the first time they tried to play matchmaker.”

“My parents weren’t in the IHSA.” Enoa said. “Just Aunt Su.”

“I can’t say then,” Melanthymos said.

“You can learn to see it.” Orson stood. A warm glow now came from the open garage doors.

“You sure can,” Melanthymos laughed. “I didn’t know what to make of you before, Gregory. Now I really don’t. You had a woman who enjoyed you enough to clear your sight and you’re here instead? Men.” Aneirin made a small chuckle. Syly giggled.

“God, you’re one of those?” Orson rolled his eyes. “Come on, the welcoming committee is on the way. Max, we’ll bring you to the edge, but I’ll get the ramp for you when they show you to your cabin. No one’s getting out in the rain if they don’t have to.”

There were shapes framed against the light of the barn. Both were tall, broad-shouldered and cloaked, with swords sheathed at their hips. As they came closer, the Aesir’s headlights showed faces that could only be family, the same shaped eyes, the same thin noses. Even their beards grew the same. Enoa followed Orson toward the door.

Glamer. Had there ever been a time in her childhood when something was built different than it appeared? Had Sucora done something that had trained her eye for illusion?

No, Enoa did not believe it. There was no Shaping in Nimauk, before Tucker. Everything was as it appeared, Nimauk their heritage, Nimauk the town and the valley around it. Nothing had intruded into their normal life, no hint of the mysteries in the world.

Orson opened the door and offered his hand to the men. “Orson Gregory.”

“Darick Vass.” The nearer man accepted the handshake. “My brother is Daron.”

“I’m here with nine guests for Lost in the Woods lodging.” Orson drew two objects from his pockets, a wooden carving shaped like his crescent moon and tower symbol, and a rock with a face carved in it.

Darick waved his hand at Orson. “We know who you are. It’s the others we need to see. Reservation from House Aspallan first. Then Maros.”

Aneirin walked forward. Melanthymos and Syly stood. Wesley flew from her shoulder and back across the cabin where he perched atop Jaleel’s chair.

“If they need to see you, Max.” Kol rose. “Then we’ll get you back to the wheelchair. I’ll talk to them first.” He followed the enigma trio toward the door.

The men spoke to Aneirin and Syly in two separate languages. Darick passed Aneirin a small circle of metal, dull and dark. The old man clenched it in his left hand, tight so his knuckles turned white. Then he handed it back – a clean, shining coin with a crown on both sides.

Then Syly spoke. She spoke long in her own language while the rain intensified and drops were whipped into the ship’s cabin by the wind. Then both men laughed and Syly laughed with them.

The men stepped aside, and Aneirin led the trio from the Aesir and into the rain.

“Syly is in cabin two.” Aneirin pointed to the nearest of the small sheds. “My lady… We have three. Good night friends. Thank you greatly. We will see you at breakfast?”

“Maybe breakfast,” Melanthymos said.

“Yeah, uh, maybe.” Orson nodded. “I have some correspondence to take care of.”

“We will see you again,” Aneirin said.

They started away from the ship. Kol walked to the doorway.

“Hello,” Kol said. “Thank you for—”

Darick seized Kol and pulled him, shouting, from the door. Max yelled with him.

Darick threw Kol to the ground. Kol raised his hands and projections glowed at his palms. The rain that hid them slid away, as if across laminate.

Enoa yelled and reached for her staff, but Orson followed them all out the door before she could reach her hip.

Orson seized Daron’s right hand with his left. He gripped the other man’s wrist and his sword’s hilt, as he drew his own sword. Rain sizzled against it and steamed away as the drops struck the blade. Orson pointed the sword toward Darick, as the first man drew his own blade, a curved weapon with a thin cutting edge.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Melanthymos yelled. “The Maros boy saved our lives today.”

“He was Liberty Corps.” Darick kept his sword pointed at Orson. “That’s an easy thing to learn. Every day our guests are running from them, hiding from them. Every day we see who they hurt. They’re the Hierarchia again, but even worse. And we’re supposed to share our table with him, who joined them.”

“He left the Liberty Corps!” Dr. Stan yelled. “He turned against them.”

“He served the remnant willingly,” Daron answered. “Now he’s a turncoat. Neither can be trusted. He needs to know what the consequences will be if that same betrayal happens here.”

“If I wasn’t welcome,” Kol said. “Why let me come here?”

“Did you really think we’d just let you beat him up?” Jaleel arrived beside Enoa and the open door. He held his bow with an arrow already fit to the string.

“You will let my brother go,” Max shouted. “If this is the hospitality that the hidden peoples show, then—”

“I have this!” Orson shouted louder. “I have this!”

Daron wrenched his hand. He fought away from Orson, hand still gripped around his sword’s hilt.

Orson broke the brother’s grip. Enoa didn’t see the motion of their hands. Between the speed and the rain, but Daron was left with an empty sheath. Orson held the other drawn sword.

“Do we need to leave here?” Orson asked. “The Maros kid saved my life today too, from a man who could’ve killed you both in a heartbeat.”

“Where else will you go?” Darick asked. “You were Ms. Birgham’s paramour, and she’ll hide you, but what friends do you have left? And what will Ms. Birgham think of you when she knows you fought us on our land. You’ll see another side—”

“Captain Gregory sees through your glamer,” Melanthymos called. “Do you understand? Your lady already knows him. She cleared his sight. And there’s likely very little of her he hasn’t seen already.”

“Don’t disrespect her,” Darick said. “She—”

A solid mass of something struck him in the side and bowled him down. He sprawled in the mud beside Kol, and the sword skidded away from his fingers, through the water and the grime.

Kol took the chance to rise back to his feet. His shields grew as he moved, hiding most of his torso behind the translucent projections.

“BOYS!” A new voice called across the yard. “I made my decision. It’s done. Stand down. Guests, please stand down.”

Enoa looked toward the voice and saw a strange motion of the rain. By the headlights, she saw the drops of water fly sideways, scattering outward.

A woman approached them and the rain parted around her. She wore a bathrobe and heavy rain boots. Her hair was in curlers. She held a cane in one hand.

“You’re the innkeeper?” Orson relaxed, but kept both swords ready at his sides.

“I am Embre Vass,” the woman said. “I own and protect this place. I’m sorry for my boys. They’ve spent too long sheltered here. They don’t understand.”

“They don’t,” Orson said. “They’re lucky I’m as steady as I am. They could’ve been really hurt.”

She laughed. “Oh yes, I’m sure. You know, I remember you, Orson Gregory. Though I suppose you can’t say the same about me. Sirona was making her tour for Gertrude, visiting all the protected lands. You were a polite young man. So young! It all seems so recent, like just a few months. But the years show twice in your eyes, lad. You’ve known a hard road, and you’ll be safe here. All of you will. I’m sorry for my sons. I will speak to them, and you will not see them again. Can you accept the punishment I’ll give them?”

Enoa looked from the wide-eyed silence of the two adult brothers to their mother’s serene expression. Darick climbed from the ground.

“Yes.” Orson shot a glance between the brothers. “Sure. Just so long as I know we’re all safe. Kol Maros is no saint, and he’s got a lot to answer for, but he’s earned safety. I’ll protect him again if I have to.”

“Please give me Daron’s sword.” Embre reached her free hand toward Orson. “He’s got a great deal to learn before he’ll wield it again.”

Orson nodded and returned the weapon. But he didn’t sheath the sword of fire until Darick retrieved and returned his own blade to its scabbard.

“I’ll hold you no longer,” Embre said. “Your cabins are unlocked, keys inside. Don’t lose them. All amenities are marked well enough. Breakfast runs seven to eleven and not one minute later. Lost in the Woods package means you pay when you leave. We can talk about your discount after this episode tonight.” She pointed the sword at both brothers. “You can find pricing in the main building, but I ask you remain here until dusk each day. Live music, games, and crafts are only for our regular guests. That’s for your safety. The rest should all be explained in your welcome letters. Other than that, the room’s phones connect to our main office. It’s been a late night, so I’ll leave you to your sleeping. Good night.”

“Good night.” Enoa returned the good-bye. The others did as well.

Then Embre started back up the gravel path, both sons behind her. Neither spoke as they were led away.

“Well,” Melanthymos said. “It’s been really fun, but unless one of the rest of you gets sucker punched in the next few seconds, you’re on your own.” She led Aneirin away by the hand. They smiled at each other and took the path out of sight.

Syly turned back too and called something in her native tongue. Enoa heard Wesley begin to chatter from his perch at the front of the Aesir. Then Syly broke off toward her cabin.

All fell silent but the beating rain and a slight clicking from deeper in the Aesir.

“The typewriter again?” Jaleel collapsed his bow and followed the passage back toward his bunk.”

“We still haven’t heard from Eloise about the self-storage place,” Orson said. “Or maybe Teddy is sending more recipes.” He nodded to Kol. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Kol let his projections fade and pulled a clump of mud from his jumpsuit’s right knee. “I imagine I’ll need to get used to that.”

“Terrible,” Dr. Stan said. “That these people who should understand the burden of persecution would take out their rage on you.”

Orson motioned Kol back aboard the Aesir, then followed him inside. “I’m sorry about all this. Listen, I have no reason to think you’ll be anything but totally safe while you’re here, but if you’re worried my couch is a sleeper sofa. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world. I think it got messed up when we bolted it to the floor. Anyway, it’s yours if you want it. Or I can pull the Aesir around and get you over to your cabin.”

“That’s your decision, Kol,” Max said.

“If you’ll brave the cabin,” Kol said. “So will I. And if anyone wants to attack me, let them. I don’t think I’ll ever be a sound sleeper again.”

“I doubt—” Orson began. He stopped short when Jaleel ran back into the cabin, another page in-hand.

“Eloise picked a team to visit the self-storage, first thing in the morning,” Jaleel said. “If you’re okay with her reading it and typing it, Enoa, she can send it here by typewriter before the end of the day.”