Harlestone wasn't impressed with Bernie the first time they met, and he certainly wasn't impressed now.

"Explain this, Brother Coleson."

"Brother, she dreamed of the red ibis."

They had burst into the tent where the captain lounged in a chair, looking at a map on the wall with a sour look on his face. His expression didn't change when Coleson explained what Bernie had seen.

Bernie felt herself becoming smaller. He woudn't listen to her. Coleson shouldn't have brought her here. She didn't belong here. She should have left the campe when she had the chance.

"Is this true?" Harlestone asked, frowning at her.

"Yes, sir." Her eyes felt forced down to the filthy jumpsuit they'd given her. It wasn't slowly being eaten by lice, as her old one had, but that didn't improve the feeling that she was being judged. She felt like a wadded up and then straightened out piece of paper.

She heard his shoulder guards knock against his wooden breastplate as he shifted in his chair, "You'll understand my skepticism."

"No, actually, I don't," She burst, frustrated and embarrassed at how embarrassed she felt, "I don't understand anything. I don't see why dreaming about this damn bird is so important."

"It might be. It might be nothing," Harlestone raised his hands. "Why don't you take a seat, and tell me about it?"

Bernie sat stiffly in the rickety chair. One leg was shorter than the other, so she rocked backward. Coleson took a step back, as if to leave, and Bernie shot him a pleading look. He couldn't leave her alone with him. Coleson raised a flat hand, as if to say, I'm not going anywhere. He sat on the floor, cross-legged.

Bernie looked back at Harlestone. His face was politely blank. He didn't look like he was about to throw her out, but he didn't look like he was excited to hear what she had to say either. A tough nut to crack. She didn't understand what dreaming about a red ibis was meant, and she didn't understand why it was so significant he might not believe her. It wasn't as if she dreamed about an ancient religious relic, or buried treasure.

"When I was… Recovering," She picked that word. It seemed the least harmful. "I had weird dreams. Really weird. I saw people from my past," Harlestone didn't interrupt, but moved his fingers to steeple in front of his gnarled face. "And I dreamed about the red ibis. I was in a swamp. I was… I don't know what doing in the swamp, but I was… I don't know. It felt like I was being watched. And the bird was there, and I was talking to it, but I was also walking on the water in the swamp, so-."

"What did the bird say?" Harlestone interrupted.

"Not much," Bernie shrugged, frustrated not at Harlestone, but at the memory of the bird. "It was… Mean. Skeptical of everything I said, always had something to say. It said it doubted if I was good enough."

"Good enough for what?" Harlestone asked.

"How should I know? It didn't answer any of my questions."

Harlestone grunted. "Is that it?"

"Pretty much. Then when it decided it was done talking to me and I sank into the swamp. Then I woke up."

"Sank into the swamp? That's hardly unique."

"Well, it was scarier than that, sir," Bernie popped her knuckles, "It was like it swallowed me whole, like a pill."

Harlestone leveled his cloudy gaze at her. "And you had this dream after we had administered the Jet?"

For some reason, Bernie blushed. "I guess so." It felt like he was insinuating something, but she didn't know what, or why.

Harlestone grunted again.

"Brother," Coleson said, "If I may…"

Harlestone looked like he was going to wave an imperious hand and silence Coleson, but at the last moment nodded.

"It's been years since Madame Dubois died. Longer than usual. Would it be so strange that the Heron Mother chooses a newcomer like Somberness? She speaks of all the signs, Brother. And we need guidance."

"You're referring to the southern camp."

"The massacred southern camp. The Heron knows it's-."

"Do not presume her will, Coleson, that's a good way to get us all massacred."

"Who's the Heron? Why is she important?"

Harlestone flicked an irritated glance her way.

Coleson explained, "A deity that resides here. She is the sister to the Wolf Father, who is the husband to our patron Mangrove Mother."

Bernie raised her hands, "Wait a second, you actually worship gods?"

Coleson looked confused, "We are a church, are we not?"

"Yeah, but, I don't know. I thought it was a metaphor, or something. I didn't think you were actually religious."

"Very," Harlestone confirmed with impatience. "And the Heron is dangerous. We do not take her will lightly."

"But gods don't exist," Bernie said.

"Hush your sacrilege!" Harlestone hissed, "I have been tolerant of your prolonged presence in this camp, but I will not allow the gods to be dismissed so lightly by the likes of you."

"The gods were killed after the war," Bernie said, hands gripping her chair, "I don't understand-."

"No," Harlestone said with a voice made of steel, "You don't."

Silence moved in and seemed to press against Bernie's chest. Harlestone was staring at her, Coleson was fidgeting behind her. She could hear his legs shifting against the dirt.

Harlestone stood suddenly, "The Heron is a deity of mischief and power. She dabbles in our world the same way children play with dolls."

"She's an evil god?"

"No," Harlestone waved a dismissive hand, "No more than hurricanes are evil. It's just her way. When she feels she can gain something by playing with us, she will. Otherwise, we're ants, trying not to be stepped on."

Bernie shook her head. "And you believe she exists?"

"We know she exists," this time it was Coleson. "She's the one who sent you the visions. She can reach into a mind and twist it. She can't tell the future, but she can… Give us hints. Influence people. Tell them things or offer prizes that shift their point of view. The Church has been lucky to have them in the past. The Heron has saved the Church on numerous occasions."

"At a price, of course," Harlestone added.

"Nothing for free?" Bernie asked.

"Naturally."

Bernie picked at her nails, "And if she's decided she… needs me, in some way?"

"We don't know that. I'm still not entirely convinced your case is a true one. You might have simply caught a glimpse of her."

"Well, then, how do you we know for sure?"

Coleson stiffened. Harlestone remained impassive.

Bernie looked back at Coleson, who looked sad. Despite herself, a hum of excitement went through her. Then a rush of shame. She tried to keep it off her face.

"I have to go back under, don't I?"

"It seems that way," Harlestone's voice was full of misgivings, "Lucky you."