"He can't be gone forever," Ekimu told himself. "He's probably… probably gone to take a break, maybe, maybe to think, and he will be back this afternoon. Yes." He had searched the entire forge twice, looking for signs of his brother. Makuta's room was a mess, as usual, but from the furnace to the Temple of Light, everything was as it had been that evening.

Ekimu sighed, taking his hammer from its hook. Traversing the entire city would take forever, and he had nothing better to do than make masks. Unless…

A thought struck. "Lenzo, could you come here?" he called.

Around half a minute later, a panting Okotan of Stone arrived in front of him. "Sorry, Master Ekimu," he said. "Tripped over my hoe. It took a while to put it away."

"I do hope you're alright. Can you go to the city and look for Makuta? I know it's not your job, but the messenger is away right now."

"Course, of course." Lenzo stumbled a moment, caught himself, then ran off.

Ekimu waved for a second before turning away. He took an iron sheet from the countless piles of iron lying in the corner. He set the sheet on his anvil, then raised his hammer.

After many seconds of hesitation, he sighed, setting it down. He just didn't feel up to it—not even using his mask to make it.

A few weeks ago, his brother had asked him a simple question: "Why do you have to make so many masks?" Ekimu gave his reply with a laugh, saying they were mask makers, and there would always be more things to do.

When Makuta responded, his voice had been cold as stone. "But what happens once there are no more masks to make? If there are always more things to do, as you say, then where is the satisfaction in anything? Where's the feeling of completion when you take your last breath? Every deed is pointless if there's never an end."

Whenever Ekimu relived that moment, the last sentence always stung, staying in his mind like an annoying itch. But Makuta's words rang especially true as he forced himself to make that gods-forsaken mask.

"Lela? I thought you were at work!"

Lelaka winced at the surprise and harshness in her mother's usually-calm voice. "Sorry," she managed to say. "Um… you know about the baby, right?"

Even with a mask covering her mother's face, it was obvious her mouth fell open. "You're what?"

"No-no-no-no-no," Lelaka stammered, throwing her arms up defensively. "I meant the baby animal. The one Shizi's taking care of?" She gestured to Shizi, who proudly held the creature in the air. It mewled.

Lelaka's mom looked as if she would collapse in relief. "Heart attack," she said weakly. "Don't do that again. But yeah, I know about it. What does it have to do with your being here? Not complaining you're back so early, but you couldn't have spun all your tapestries this early."

"Well…" The truth was she had taken a "sick day" to practice her bo-staff training. She was planning to get back to do her work extra fast when Shizi had shown her the creature. Now, Lelaka knew her mother wouldn't buy "it was just too cute to leave the little thing behind." So, she improvised: "You see how much the creature's mewling and stuff?"

"Don't I know it."

"That means it need attention, right? And sometimes it, it's not because of anything in particular, right? It just wants attention, constant attention, and as amazing as Shizi is, she can't provide that much attention to it."

"Okay."

"Well, there we go!"

Lelaka's mom sighed. "So you didn't do any work today, because you were worried a baby animal would get bored without you?"

"When you put it that way, it makes me look wrong," Lelaka said.

"And I wonder why that would be," her mom answered, her composed air returning.

From behind the hallway, Makuta appeared with a saddened expression. "Lelaka," he said slowly. "I'm glad you're here. I wish I didn't have to say this, but my conscience will have none of it—I have to tell you."

"Tell her what?" Lelaka's mother asked expectantly. "Does this have to do with Ekimu, by any chance?"

"Yes," Makuta said. He let out a deep sigh. "Though I wish it weren't."