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  Stella had taught me the true meaning of hospitality, which wasn’t about trying to impress people, but was about making their lives a little better.

  “Buy whatever you need,” Istvan said. “I’m unlikely to return to Civitas for a while. There is much to do here. Including bookcases, apparently. Did you want someone to make them for you?”

  “It’s not something that has to be done in a rush. Books can stack on the floor.”

  My magician partner gave me a look. You’ve not been properly called out on your foolishness until you’ve suffered a griffin’s long-suffering, why-me? stare.

  I stopped my verbal waffling. “I would like a bookcase built in-between the windows on the outside wall of my room. I’d intended to speak to Rory about it.”

  Istvan clicked his beak. “Well, at least you know who wants to provide for you.”

  I couldn’t even argue that I wanted to provide for myself. In my current circumstances, I had no means of doing so. I’d vowed away my magic to Istvan’s control. Not that I knew how to use it, anyway.

  “Mention your bookcase, and anything else you’d like installed, to Oscar. He is arranging trades- and craftspeople to finish the hall.” Istvan stretched his wings. “I’m going to hunt my dinner. Nils.”

  I hadn’t seen Nils lingering in the doorway.

  Istvan launched from the top of the steps, flying out from beneath the portico. The last rays of the sun edged his feathers in colors of fire.

  Nils straightened from his slouch as I approached. “Tineke has stew cooking.”

  “Sounds good,” I said disinterestedly. I was hungry, but more than that, I craved privacy. I’d seen and heard a lot today, and I needed space to process it all, and my response to it.

  I avoided eye contact with everyone gathered in the kitchen.

  They talked around me, commenting on their day and the people in it, speculating on Justice’s future, and adding items to Oscar’s never-ending lists.

  Tomorrow, I’d have him add my bookcase to it.

  “I think I’ll turn in early,” I said to no one in particular. I grabbed a bedroll from where they were stacked against the wall.

  While Istvan and I had been trapped with an endless stream of people wanting conversation, information, assurances and an edge over their competition, someone had distributed firewood throughout the hall. Fires burned in every fireplace, meaning that it wasn’t just the kitchen that held warmth.

  Like every other room, mine lacked a door, but there was still a sense of relief to enter it and spread out my bedroll near the fire, knowing that I’d be alone. I fed the flames more of the branches cracked to fit the hearth size which were stacked neatly to the side. The fire provided the sole light, although the moon would rise soon and light would shine through the uncurtained windows. I should have asked Oscar for a candle.

  The bathroom was almost dark, but I fumbled my way around.

  Finally, I could stretch out in the bedroll. Lying in the quiet, it felt strange to be sleeping alone. There was no Jarod. Nor were there other humans snoring nearby as there had been in the group tents at the trials.

  I hadn’t expected to miss Istvan’s presence. Was he still out hunting? Maybe he’d stay out, enjoying the freedom of the skies and privacy, after he’d eaten.

  I didn’t feel unsafe. My crossbow and kit sat beside my two satchels on the opposite side of the fireplace to the stack of branches. I also had my pocketknife beside my bedroll. That was Digger’s rule: never go anywhere without a knife. It wasn’t just about self-defense. Knives could be multi-purpose tools.

  I was getting sleepy. I turned on my side on the thin mattress, curling up.

  A few years ago, at one of the many summer camps I’d attended, one of the instructors had been a survivalist. Go along to get along, he’d advised, but always remember who you are.

  “Who am I?” I whispered.

  Before the apocalypse I’d been a college student intent on getting into medical school. The goal had been to become a psychiatrist. I’d been spoiled, not with love and attention, but with money enough to buy anything I wanted.

  The vigil the Faerene had put me through, had put all of us surviving human familiar candidates through, had broken thirty of us. Faced with the stark truth of ourselves, self-acceptance was hard. I’d seen myself and my hidden motivations. I’d wanted to be a doctor, a psychiatrist, to heal people, but not out of altruism. There’d been so much self-pity balled up in me. I’d learned my lesson early that the world didn’t want me, so I’d make it need me.

  However, my safe emergence from the vigil had required me not only to face my motivations, but to let them go. All my life I’d striven to be more, to acquire skills, to be liked and unobtrusively popular, and to be respected. I’d never believed that I was enough. Just me.

  And now I did. The familiar candidate trials had given me that.

  But as I followed my camp instructor’s advice to go along to get along I had to be careful that I didn’t lose myself to whatever the Faerene wanted to make of me.

  In this new world, I had to choose my own path. Wherever it might lead.

  Chapter 5

  Tineke and Lajos were first through the portal to Civitas when Istvan opened it. They dodged the porters who stood with trolleys and carts piled high with goods that Istvan, Oscar and I had ordered. Istvan would hold the portal open for two hours as the goods were delivered. Tineke and Lajos would collect their belongings and return to Justice before then.

  Yana pulled me to the left to avoid the first of the trolleys stacked high with four crates that was propelled forward at a furious pace by its goblin porter.

  I stumbled through the portal in time to see her nod to the south. Tineke and Lajos had done the same. “Why do you do that, nod to the south?” There were only mountains there; vaguely green, but more gray in the afternoon light.

  “It’s a sign of respect. The fight to seal the Rift happened there. They’ve built a memorial.”

  “To the two magicians who died in the fight?” I’d heard a small part of the story of the Faerene’s defense of Earth against the carnivorous, sentient-eating Kstvm.

  Yana regarded me strangely. “Two? Two of our most powerful magicians, those who worked with Istvan and Rory, died in the final push to seal the Rift, but two hundred and thirty eight died before that while holding off the Kstvm’s assaults. And over three thousand burned out their magic.”

  “I didn’t know.” I halted out of the way with my back to a red brick building.

  I had resented Civitas yesterday, bitterly and without comment. Here in the city the Faerene were prosperous and assured. No hint of the apocalypse beyond tainted their lives. While humanity struggled with ongoing disasters and the loss of the majority of our population, bustling in front of me was evidence of how the Faerene who’d migrated to Earth flourished.

  But Yana’s explanation of the bow to the south made me reassess Civitas and the smug prosperity of its bazaar.

  Even with magic, this city hadn’t gone up overnight. The Faerene had built it in the shadow of the mountains while their people fought a battle for Earth’s survival that humanity couldn’t begin to comprehend. We’d had no idea of the shields that protected healthy worlds from intrusion nor of how our single-minded pursuit of linear progress had damaged Earth’s shield.

  The Faerene who migrated to Earth had done so knowing that there’d be no possibility of return to their home world of Elysium. They’d fought, suffered and died for their new home. And the people of Civitas had built with courage, faith and hope a city for that future, even without knowing the outcome of the battle with the rapacious Kstvm.

  I had to respect the citizens of Civitas for their bravery in building for the future when their present had been so precarious.

  Yana rubbed my shoulder. Werewolves were more physically affectionate than humans. “We’re in this together.”

  My answering smile was more of a rueful grimace that she’d read my mind an
d emotions. She’d guessed at my resentment of the beautiful, powerful, prosperous and secure Faerene around us.

  Our time in the city was short. Two hours. But she relaxed against the wall for a moment. The relaxation was a pose. Her gaze remained alert. “Hope Fang is a mixed pack, which is rare. Not mainly werewolves, with some add-ons, but truly composed of people who choose to be together. Rory is ambitious.”

  I didn’t understand what she was trying to tell me.

  She laughed under her breath, a chuff of sound. “Loyalty is a choice, even for those who choose their own without looking further.” She pushed away from the wall. “Come on. Time’s wasting.”

  By trailing in the wake of a dragon, we proceeded with rare speed through the busy bazaar.

  In the beauty shop we bought lotions, although no potions, as well as various personal hygiene products. “For you as well,” I said to Yana. “And for female guests.”

  Despite my enthusiasm for the deliciously scented stall and the thought of possessing my own private bathroom with hot running water, I exercised restraint. Spending yesterday afternoon listening to people’s plans for Justice I knew that Istvan and I had to spend his credit primarily in town to help underpin its commerce and give the artisans and merchants a kick-start.

  Thinking of the town reminded me of the wide, smooth roads Istvan had constructed. “I’d like a bike.”

  Yana was much struck. She jerked to a halt, causing a couple of other people in the streaming horde to grumble. “That’s a good idea.”

  “I do have them occasionally,” I said dryly.

  She gave me a fleeting smile before plunging back into the crowd.

  We ended up buying two bikes and a tricycle. For a chance to talk to me, the amazing, all-astounding human familiar, the bike shop owner’s son pushed the third bike through the throng for us and back to the portal. Along the way, we loaded the tricycle with hot pizzas. The bottom layers would probably be steamy mush by the time of our return, but the aroma was mouthwateringly spicy and I couldn’t resist.

  Nor could any of those waiting for our return.

  Rory hooked an arm around my neck. “Pizza!”

  “I didn’t know what toppings you’d like…” I handed him a large slice piled with everything.

  “This’ll do.” He took a huge bite.

  “Little bitty fishes and olives.” Yana passed her mate a different pizza on a mat of woven bamboo.

  Berre kissed her. “You’re a miracle, love. I’ll share—”

  She held up a warding off hand. “No. No one wants your odd pizza. It’s all yours.”

  He grinned. Then shouted an indignant “hey!” when Nils stole a slice.

  Yana shrugged. “So I’m wrong.”

  We ate in the kitchen courtyard, watching a stream of last minute deliveries enter the kitchen and hearing inventive swearing inside.

  “They’re installing the stoves and ovens,” Nils said. “Peggy, our new cook, is overseeing the process. Oscar did well finding her.”

  Oscar was with Istvan at the front of the hall. Istvan would keep his word and close the portal to the minute of his two hour window, so people were hurrying. Except for us. Oscar might be doing the preliminary sorting and directing of deliveries, but we’d have to organize everything this afternoon. We needed to fuel up.

  Nils stole a second slice of pizza, ignoring Berre’s growl. “Peggy is the lone cook in her extended family. The rest of them work construction, and they’re all settling in Justice. Her two sons are installing the kitchen now.”

  “She has her priorities right,” Rory said. “We need to be able to feed people.”

  “Everyone else in her family has been carting in their supplies. They’ll divide their forces this afternoon. Half will erect their workshop. The other half Oscar has hired to put the hall in order.”

  Oscar himself appeared. “By which he means hang doors, install bathrooms, build cupboards and bookcases.” He smiled at me.

  I handed him a slice of Rory’s pizza, which earned me a yank to my hair braid. When I looked at him, though, Rory was smiling. Feeding his pack was far from being a bad thing in his eyes.

  I licked my fingers. I had a canteen of water at my belt; a practical purchase in Civitas. Fed and watered, I was ready to go. “Where’s Istvan?”

  “Talking with Tineke.” Oscar scrounged for another slice of pizza. “I sent your bedroom furniture, desk included, and all your crates to your room, Amy.”

  “Thanks.” I stood.

  “The other furniture is in the clerks’ office.” He was too hungry or too preoccupied to pursue what I intended to do with the other furniture. Or perhaps he’d guessed. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that sofas and armchairs were for a lounging around space. Deciding where that space would be would come low on his list of immediate priorities.

  Rory eyed me lazily. “Need any help?”

  Istvan had said I shouldn’t rely on Rory for assistance, but he’d meant magical assistance, hadn’t he?

  “How strong are your muscles?” Yes, I was flirting.

  An answering spark lit his gray eyes.

  Berre coughed, possibly because Yana had silenced whatever he’d been going to say via an elbow to the ribs. She was an amiably violent woman.

  “You want to test my muscles?” Rory purred.

  Maybe the pizza had been scattered with some inhibition-loosening herbs? I upped the ante. “I want to introduce you to my bed.” Being Orcan it was large and heavy. I doubted the porters had cared where they placed it in my room. I’d need someone, or more than one someone, to help me move it.

  “Lead on,” Rory said.

  We passed through the kitchen, leaving the courtyard in giggles (Yana) and shocked laughter.

  “Hells’ blades!” A male goblin’s curse followed the metallic crash of an object hitting stone.

  The new cook was too distracted to notice us, let alone have time for introductions.

  We left her to scream her domain into shape.

  “Apart from the bed, what other furniture do I need to move?” Rory was smart.

  “An armoire, desk, divan,…” I ticked off items on my fingers as we climbed the stairs. “Do you think we can open trade with human settlements?”

  His flirtatious humor fell away. “Yes. You’re not confined to Faerene friendships. Istvan and I can both open portals for you to visit your family. Plus, with Justice situated on the river, other towns along it will connect with us, human communities among them.”

  We reached the corridor to my room. I was so accustomed to Rory’s open friendliness, that his sudden reserve shocked me. We passed Istvan’s room. In other circumstances I might have stayed to gawk at the huge pile of bedding in the center of it. I guess griffins did share at least one trait with birds and felines: they liked a cozy nest.

  “I just wanted some books,” I said. That I hadn’t meant to offend Rory was expressed by my plaintive, faintly apologetic tone.

  “Books.” He halted to stare at me.

  I slipped by him to enter my room. “Holy feathers!”

  I had a big room, but right now it felt as if I’d filled it to the ceiling. Crates were stacked along two walls, including three crates from the beauty shop which had been hastily packed and delivered. The furniture was grouped in the center of the room. “It’s not all stuff for me.”

  Rory wasn’t judging me. In fact, by his expression, he was chastising himself for getting the wrong end of the stick with regard to my query concerning trade with humans. “Where do you want the furniture?”

  I pointed. “Bed.” The headboard would be against the wall between my room and Istvan’s.

  Rory cheated and used magic to clear the crates stacked there.

  “You were going to show off your muscles.”

  His solemn expression relaxed. “When we have more time.”

  Of course he had other responsibilities. Real ones, not just indulging me. I should have asked Peggy’s family for assistance.
The best way I could fix my mistake was not to waste any more of his time.

  He levitated the bed into place and the thick mattress on top of it.

  “Desk, divan, armchair.” I could move the chair for the desk myself. “Armoire. Dresser.”

  More crates were shuffled aside. The furniture was in place.

  “I can handle unpacking the rest.”

  He frowned. The crates shuffled some more until they were spread out across the floor. Rather than tell me not to lift anything too heavy, he’d made sure I didn’t have to.

  “Amy.” There was some serious reluctance in his voice.

  My fingers froze mid-caress of the footboard of the bed. The carved birch was a light golden cream color with darker notes of honey. The rest of the furniture matched it, except for the desk and chair which were mahogany. I hadn’t been able to resist the desk which had three secret drawers and compartments.

  Rory shoved his hands in his pockets. “When human settlements make contact with us, we’ll need to be careful. Maybe you’ll have to adopt a policy where anything you buy or trade with them has to be done through a third party, someone like Oscar.”

  I studied his awkward, unwilling posture. This wasn’t something he wanted to tell me, but he refused to shirk the responsibility and any blame I might put on him. Which meant… “You won’t help them all.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. In this form, he appeared entirely human. Even his linen shirt and heavy cotton trousers were near enough to American fashion that he wouldn’t stand out anywhere. But he wasn’t human. He was Faerene.

  “Earth is the seventh Faerene Migration. We’ve learned some lessons, especially from the first two worlds. Pity is easy, but true compassion means we cannot always share what we have. It creates a dependency dynamic, or worse, it encourages a sort of master-servant relationship with the worlds’ indigenous populations.”