Chapter 45

We Visit a Treehouse Underground

Even with the entrance collapsed it was a long time before we stopped running. I could tell the Kallikantzaroi were there from the pattering of their little hooves, but they didn't say a word. All of us, it seemed like, had one thing on our minds: getting away.

Emmitt's lungs gave out first. I heard coughing, gasping, and then the sound of his steps stopped. I couldn't see anything in the inky black, but I imagined he was doubled over, hands on his knees.

By this point we'd already been going a while, so I said, "That's far enough."

The pattering stopped. Somewhere to my left Bianca's voice asked, "And if it's not?"

"Then we might die. But Emmitt can't go any further, and the tunnel already collapsed anyway."

"Not collapsed," came a voice from the dark, the same one that had yelled for us to run. "Shut."

"What's the difference?"

"Collapsed means accident. Shutting is deliberate. A door does not collapse, it shuts. Arimaspoi will not catch us. Down here, nothing is quicker than we are."

"And who are you?" Bianca asked. "Not that I'm not grateful, but…"

Her voice was on edge, even more than usual. I didn't blame her. Not only had we stared death in the eye, Arim's mysterious deal was still heavy in our heads.

Maybe Nico was behind it. He'd definitively want to keep her alive and not us, at least. But this didn't feel like his style. Which meant, maybe, that someone else was out there playing puppet master with our lives.

"They're Kallikantzaroi," I said.

"Ah, yes, that clears up nothing. You know what…"

Something rustled, then clicked. A flashlight beam hit the cave ceiling, lighting the surroundings.

There were around twenty Kallikantzaroi, all fully grown and wielding bows carved from wood. Quivers were strapped to their backs. They wore leafy tunics that ran halfway down their furry legs, and their pointy ears were pressed flat to their heads as they shielded their eyes, hissing in distress.

"Off!" demanded the one who'd been talking, the biggest and closest to us. "Remove the light!"

Bianca covered the flashlight head with her hand, dimming it while keeping just enough to see her face by. She looked shocked. "We got saved by Santa's elves?"

"Not elves," said the lead Kallikantzaroi.

"They're more like goblins," I agreed.

"Not goblins either," he insisted. "You wouldn't like being called chimpanzees. Get it right. Kallikantzaroi saved you."

"But why did you?" Emmitt asked.

I could just catch a glimpse of him in the dimmed light. He looked uncomfortable and I could imagine why. His last run-in with Kallikantzaroi, like mine, had been obliterating an entire village of them.

These Kallikantzaroi didn't seem aggressive though. At least not the one talking.

"Mistress wants you alive. Besides, Kallikantzaroi," he stressed the word, "pay debts. You saved our lives. Now we save yours."

Emmitt, who'd flinched when he heard "pay debts," said, "What do you—"

But I knew what he was talking about. With hands on autopilot I brought my bag around, drawing out the still-glowing bark. It was even brighter now. More golden than white, it shone with the shine of a flashbulb.

Despite its light, the lead Kallikantzaroi stared straight at it, barely squinting as his eyes watered, and I was suddenly sure of something.

"You gave this to me." I didn't mean it like one of their species. I was sure that this one specifically, the biggest Kallikantzaroi I'd ever seen, was the tiny one I'd met before. "It's you. The nameless one."

He grinned. "Not anymore. I have earned a name. A glorious, powerful name, possessing the force of a thousand stallions. They now call me… Edgar."

"But how is this possible? Two months ago you were like—" I made a little circle with my hands, about the size of a watermelon.

"Grew fast," Edgar said. "Had to. All would've died otherwise, with no home."

Emmitt shifted. Even I looked down. They might not've been holding a grudge, but they were only homeless because my torch turned their old one to ash.

Rather than let me stew, Edgar plucked the bark from my hand.

"Don't regret," he said. "We're only alive, thanks to you. And losing houses was not all bad. It brought us to the Mistress."

That was the second time he'd mentioned this "Mistress" person. I hoped we weren't about to be brought before the Wicked Witch of the North. I wasn't too keen on being turned into a frog, or whatever the Alaskan variant would be. A snow vole?

"Do not be afraid, young one. I mean no harm."

I flinched. The voice, female and lilting, seemed to come from everywhere. The Kallikantzaroi all bowed. It was as if the cave itself was speaking to us. Or maybe it wasn't the cave, but what was lining it.

Now that I was paying attention the tree roots were shifting. Slithering. Changing positions along the walls. And when the voice spoke, they thrummed like speakers.

"All will be explained if you follow. And, truly, you have nothing to lose, do you?"

Don't you just hate it when mysterious disembodied voices go and make a really good point?

OOO

The cave was flat and smooth enough to walk easily on in the dark, and I knew why. Roots were actively pressing it down, rubbing mud like rolling pins over dough, flattening it ahead of where we stepped. It was super helpful, and also pretty creepy (especially the squishing noises) so I struck up a conversation to distract myself.

"So, Edgar, huh?"

"Indeed!" Even in the dark, I could tell the Kallikantzaroi was beaming. "A fine name, isn't it? Mistress gave me it herself."

I remembered, last time we met, him saying something about having to earn a name. "What'd you do to get it?"
"Not much," he said. "Guided our people in the Labyrinth. Helped fight off beasts. Negotiated passage. Followed Mistress's roots. Became leader. As I said, not much."

I stared at where I was pretty sure he was walking. "Is there anything you can't do?"

He thought about it. "Sing," he said, "and arm-wrestle. Small wrists."

We were getting close to something now. There were more roots, the cave was widening, and up ahead I could hear what sounded like clicking. I tried not to feel nervous.

"Be calm," Edgar said. Sometimes, I forgot he could see perfectly in the dark. "The Mistress is kind. She took in my people in exchange for work. She saved us. And she sent us to save you. So do not be worrying."

If you lived underground, Kallikantzaroi with their bows were probably some of the best fighters you could find. "So I guess you guys are like her guards."

Maybe I was imagining it, but Edgar's voice sounded embarrassed. "Heeeh, something that way. She's a big fan of yours, though. You're one of her favorite programs."

"Me? Programs?"

"Yes. You will understand. Though her real favorite is that friend of yours."

Friend of mine? "Emmitt? Bianca?"

"Other one. Big guy. Hector. Shame what happened to him. Mistress is very worried."

I was so shocked I forgot to walk. "You know what happened to Hector?!"

"Baaad business," Edgar said. "Keep walking. You will see soon too."

I wouldn't have left it there except right then the cave ended. We were spat out into a cavern. It wasn't as big as the Arimaspoi's treasure room, but wow did it have it beat for interior design.

Roots sat in thick clumps along the walls; roots spanned the gaps between those clumps like fashioned suspension bridges; roots hung from the ceiling as vines. All of them were dotted with flowers, and these weren't just any flowers. They glowed. Soft white light bathed the room, dim enough not to hurt the Kallikantzaroi while still letting us see. The entire place smelled of freshly-peeled bark, fertile soil, and leaves: all the best aromas of a garden. In front of me Emmitt had frozen, jaw dropped open further than when he first spotted the Heliades' trees. I probably looked the same.

Because the real star was at the room's center. Roots spiraled down from the ceiling in the shape of a funnel, the narrowest point about the width of a bedroom. It wasn't just the flowers making these roots glow; the bark itself shone, emitting wisps of vapor that spun and wound into shapes — butterflies, songbirds, bats — which drifted to the ceiling and broke apart.

While we gaped Edgar gathered up his underlings. Opening his mouth, he let out a series of chirps like a cat stalking a bird. The Kallikantzaroi bowed their heads. A second later they split up and jogged away.

"Where are they going?" I asked.

"Home," Edgar said.

I was saved from looking like an idiot and asking where that was by the Kallikantzaroi themselves. As they got to the walls they dug into handholds I couldn't see and started climbing. Only then did I notice the root clumps weren't just decorations.

They were houses.

"Nice, no?" Edgar sounded proud. "Much better than our last home. Safer, too. Mistress treats us well, even when we nibble on her more than we're supposed to. You'll be wanting to see her now."

It was no surprise when he led us toward the flashy formation at the room's center. As we approached the clicking noise I'd heard back in the cave got louder and louder.

There wasn't a real door, but there was a curtain of leaves. Edgar stopped in front of it and rapped on the bark.

"Mistress," he said. "We're here."

No answer, although I could hear voices. A few of them, at least two male and two female. They sounded dim, though. Like they were coming from far away. And, of course, there was the clicking.

Rather than knock again, Edgar sighed and brushed aside the leaves. The rest of us entered after him.

The inside was darker than the rest of the cavern. Not like a pitch-black cave though, more like a movie theater. In the middle of the space was a high-backed wood throne. It was shaped like one of those expensive gaming chairs, with cup holders and back support and a trey across the front for food or a laptop. It was pretty cool, like something you'd see in a modern art museum, but it had nothing on what it was facing.

One whole wall was crisscrossed with rectangles of roots. They hung in grids, some as small as a laptop monitor while others would've dwarfed a 75-inch flatscreen. Every single one, like magic, was displaying moving scenes. Now that I thought about it, it probably was magic. That was the only way a literal tree could've been showing the latest Marvel movie, a Breaking Bad episode, a DMV line, a volcano eruption, and about fifty other feeds I couldn't even recognize, all at the same time.

"Oooh, get him! Get him!"

The voice came from the chair. I recognized it as the one from the cave, this Mistress person, but it was also different. Higher-pitched. Less suave. Like I was listening to an actor talk in their regular voice after only hearing them in a commanding, larger-than-life role.

"Mistress," Egar tried again, but she still couldn't seem to hear him.

"Yeah!" she cheered. On the largest screen a character in spandex pummeled another one in some sort of armor suit. "Did you see how many trees his last attack uprooted? Karma! Divine justice! Beat his ass!"

Edgar marched to the side of the chair, touching it with his hand. "Mistress!"

"Eeep!"

The seat swiveled around, revealing a young woman. Now, I'd seen dryads before. Some of them looked part-tree. Some of them had green skin. I'd never seen one that looked like this.

Her hair was leaves. She had bark for skin. Not just skin, though. Every bit of her, from the eyeballs to the fingernails, was made from tree parts. The sundress she wore was woven foliage. She was remarkably pretty considering it all, like a wood sculpture of the most beautiful woman ever.

"Edgar," she said, "I told you to knock! Now that the guests have seen me like this… Oooh, I can feel the sap rushing to my face!"

"I knocked," Edgar said. "You were caught up in your shows, couldn't seem to hear a—"

"Nope! Not another word! I can't lose even more face!"

The Mistress looked away from him to stare at us. I could tell she was considering something. Then she sat up straighter. Her hands linked primly in her lap.

"Welcome, heroes," she said, her voice back to the majestic one we first heard. "You may call me D. I hope my abode quite pleases you, I strive to keep it in good condition. Rest, under the gracious auspices of a benevolent soul."

Edgar sighed, shaking his head. I had to ask, "Why are you talking like that?"

"What do you mean, hero?" she tilted her head. "This is the manner in which I always speak."

"We heard you talking normally just a minute ago."

"You quite certainly did not."

"We totally did." I looked to the others. "Right, guys?"

They both nodded.

"Uh, I must insist. You all were mistaken."

"Give it up Mistress," Edgar said. "They got you."

She stared at the Kallikantzaroi. For one second, three seconds, five, she gazed regally at him. Then she screamed, burying her face in her hands.

"Ahhhhhh! And whose fault do you think that is? Who shattered my image by coming in without knocking? They're going to think I'm a laughingstock. They're going to mock me. I can see it coming already. They'll call me mean names, like Barky McBark Bark."

"We'd never do that!" Emmitt said.

"Right," Bianca agreed. "We'd think of way better names to make fun of you."

Our host sobbed. "See? See?!"

She looked really upset. Seeing the expression on her face, I couldn't help thinking I'd seen her before. It was faint, just a resemblance, but it was right on the tip of my tongue, barely out of reach

Edgar turned to us. "Apologies about her. The Mistress doesn't get out much."

"Can't!" D corrected him. "Can't get out much. Get it right. And besides, part of me is outside right now. That counts I think."

Edgar ignored her. "She entertains herself with movies. Doesn't get many guests. When she does get some, she always wants to seem wise. She believes it makes her look cool."

"Oh, yes yes, m0ck me some more. Why, Edgar, if you weren't so good at pruning, I'd toss you out on your cheek!"

"Pruning?" I wondered.

"Ah, yeah…" Edgar's nose went bright red, which I guess is how Kallikantzaroi blush. "We aren't guards. Wasn't our deal. Instead, she keeps us around for upkeep. Like gardeners."

Edgar's Mistress beamed. "You've never known true pleasure until you've felt a Kallikantzaroi's teeth on a pesky overgrown root. Sends shivers right up to your canopy, I'm telling you."

"You really are a tree," I said. "You're conscious and talking to us, but those roots… that's your real body."

She smiled sadly. "These days." Then a sound from one of her screens caught her attention. Her head whipped around. "Oooh, oooh, watch! This is the best part."

Her fingers pounded the tray across her legs, and I realized she was typing on keys made of bark. That explained the clicking noises. As we watched, the magic screens warped and swapped sizes, a small one growing to take center stage.

It was another superhero movie. A big, buff blond guy walked beside a brunette in a dress, circling a futuristic room with a healthy-looking tree at the center.

"You really like Marvel," Emmitt noticed.

"I watch it for the eye candy," our host said. "I mean, just look."

I couldn't see much happening, just a regular conversation. That didn't stop her from sighing dreamily.

"The actor for Yggdrasil is such a hunk. Look at the girth of those roots… whew mama, somebody works out! Way cuter than the real thing, I'm telling you. I've watched this movie thirty-five times just for his cameos."

"You're looking at the tree?" Bianca asked.

"Where else would I be looking?"

Bianca blinked. "That's… a good point actually.

"That's got to get boring," I said, "watching the same things, over and over again."

"Oh, it does," D said. "That's why I spice things up." She hit some keys and a different screen grew bigger. "The neat thing about the world is, it's so full of stories. Check this one out. It's got a ton of potential if it can just fix the pacing issues."

The scene was in black and white, which I guess meant it was old. It didn't seem like a movie. Pedestrians kept walking by, getting in the way of the shot. They looked funny, all the guys wearing hats and ties while the girls wore dresses. The camera, if it even was a camera, was fixed in front of a high-rise vintage hotel. The peach-orange neon sign read LOTUS HOTEL AND CASINO.

"That's Vegas!" Emmitt said.

"No." Bianca looked pale. "That's me."

Before I could ask what she meant I spotted it— and by it, I mean her. Standing on the steps to the casino were Bianca and Nico, looking just a little bit younger than I knew them.

"This is the place?" Younger Bianca asked a stiff-backed woman in a suit.

"Indeed," said the woman. "Your new, temporary home."

Nico didn't say anything, using his sister as a sort of shield. Younger Bianca fiddled with the hem of a floppy green cap, pulling it lower until it almost covered her eyes. "How long will we have to stay here?"

"A few months," said the woman, "but don't worry. Time will just fly by."

The woman cackled, yanking open the door and stepping inside. The siblings followed. Just as they passed out of sight, we got a real good view of Nico's face.

"Wait a minute!" Emmitt stepped forward, squinting and pointing at the scene. "That's the kid that attacked us! What's he doing there?"

Bianca turned to me. "You didn't tell him?"

"Why would I tell him? It's your family. I thought you might suck my soul out if I blabbed about it."

"And…?" Bianca said.

"And I forgot." Really, with how many life-threatening situations we got into, I figured I deserved some slack for a few memory problems. "It's fine, isn't it?"

"Ugh." Bianca turned. Her voice softened. "Emmitt, Nico is my brother."

"Oh, that makes sens—" Emmitt's eyes bugged. "Wait he's what?!"

"If it helps," I said, "I've only known for a little over a week."

"And I didn't didn't believe it until he attacked us at Hubbard Glacier," Bianca added.

"And neither of you told me? All that time?"

I was already feeling bad for him, and Emmitt looked so sad that I said, "I'm sorry man. Tell you what. When we get back, I'll buy you a succulent."

He perked up a little bit. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"Add in a Hydrangea," he said, "and it's a deal."

Meanwhile, D was back to typing. Two little triangles appeared in the screen's bottom corner: a fast-forward symbol. Night and day started swapping, faster and faster, until both were just flashes.

That made sense. If we were waiting for them to come out, we would have to skip over whole weeks. Except the speeding up didn't stop. Time kept moving quicker, and the fast-forward wasn't ending, until I was pretty sure we'd already passed over months, then years, then, eventually, even decades.

"What's going on?" Bianca said. "You're going too far."

On-screen the block was changing– neighboring buildings getting remodeled, replaced by taller versions painted in new, shiny colors.

"Oh dear," our host said. "You didn't know?"

Bianca couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen. "Know what?"

"The Lotus Hotel isn't just a hotel, dear. Those people have been around as long as I have. They've certainly upgraded, though, compared to when Odysseus visited. These days they trap passersby with luxuries instead of actual Lotus's, keeping them prisoner for all of time."

"But they let me go," Bianca argued.

"They did. They were forced to. But that building is special. Time doesn't move the same on the inside as it does outside. Your father's servant freed you, but…"

"But what?"

"By the time they did, seventy years had passed."

Bianca's knees wobbled. I steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, but I'm not sure it helped. She looked on the verge of passing out.

The screen finally slowed back down to normal speed. The door opened. The siblings walked out into the light, led by a woman I'd seen once in my dreams. Mrs. Schmeltzer beeped a key fob and a gray Toyota Corolla unlocked.

"You may put your bags in the trunk," Mrs. Schmeltzer declared. "We depart in one minute."

"Thank you," Younger Bianca said softly, leading Nico by the hand.

"Did she just say something polite?" I asked.

Bianca, understandably, was pretty shaken up. But she seemed glad to have a question to focus on, even if it was only for a second.

"Well," she said, "I was pretty different before Nico… I mean, before I thought Nico— oh whatever. You get the picture."

"Change is natural," D said. "Just look at me. I shed my leaves every winter but I'm still the same tree. And anyway Bianca, your story has just been so fascinating! The tragedy, the drama, the suspense. It's just—"

She trailed off with a squeal. I decided to change the topic, because there was something that had been bothering me since a while ago.

"Earlier," I said, "Edgar mentioned that you know Hector? He said that you knew what happened to him."

Our host's good mood evaporated. D looked so serious, so distraught, that the root walls trembled. She shed a few leaves on the floor.

"Ohhhhh," she wailed, "don't remind me! I'm worried sick!"

"Please," I said. "We have to know."

"Well, I guess it's only fair. Alright. Just don't make me look!"

D hit a few keys and covered her eyes. This screen changed again. This time it showed a dark room. There were no defining features. It seemed like storage, or a shed, except for the person at its center. Hector stood stock-still, sweating. His own sword hovered in the air at his throat.

"Where is this?" I demanded. "How did it happen?"

"I don't know," D moaned. "I changed the channel just for an hour this morning, and when I switched it back he was already like this."

"Rewind it," I said. "Like how you did with Bianca's past."

"I can't! What we're seeing, it's all through my roots. I have them in all sorts of interesting places— Disneyland, the White House, Area 51. The Lotus Hotel is one of those. I've had my eye on it for centuries, that's why it's all recorded. But this place? It's just some shed! A hut in the woods! Why would I have had a root set up in a place like that? You have no idea how long it took me to even find Hector here."

"You sure are worried about him," I said.

"Of course I am." D sniffed. "Nobody likes for their favorite character to die."

On-screen, Hector looked nervous. His breathing was measured. He was being careful not to move too much. The sword hadn't moved at all yet, though. As far as swords at the throat went, this one seemed remarkably un-dangerous.

I guess Emmitt was thinking the same thing, because he asked, "Are you sure his life's in danger?"

D spread her fingers to peak between them. At us. She still wouldn't look at the screen. "Don't you know? That sword is bad news, bad news! Here. Look!"

She hit keys blind using her free hand. Different screens swelled, then shrunk. I was surprised by how many of them I recognized. One showed a pack of hellhounds charging through Golden Gate Park. In another, girls in silver sprinted with bows. One even showed Prometheus, sometime in the past, sitting at a meeting table opposite Chief the Telekhine.

Finally, D managed to pull up the one she was after. Two screens were enlarged now, side by side at the center. One was the live feed of Hector. And the other, even though it was clearly old, I also knew.

It was the throne room of King Dionysus.

Only one thing was different from when I saw it in my dream. Instead of a crowd there were only two people, and the one sitting on the throne wasn't the king.

"Damocles…" I said.

The handsome brunette was looking worse than the last time I saw him. More pale, more wrinkled, it was like he'd aged five years. I could see where the stress was coming from. Dangling above his head, point facing down, was a sword moored to the ceiling by a hair strand so thin, you could only spot it when the light shone.

"Well," King Dionysus said, standing beside the throne with his arms crossed. "Is it all you imagined?"

"My lord," Damocles said, speaking slowly, "I didn't mean to insult you. Please, spare me this punishment. My children will go hungry if I die. Have mercy."

"You call this a punishment. Don't you understand? This is what you asked for. I've granted your desire."

It seemed like Damocles wanted to cry, but he was too scared to move even that much. The compromise was a single tear trailing down his left cheek.

"You know that guy Percy?" Emmitt asked.

"Kind of." I explained my dream, the way Damocles had angered his king. When I was finished, the throne room doors banged open. A wave of attendants entered carrying platters. Some were piled with food, others with treasure. Damocles whimpered.

The king took a strand of grapes from one attendant. "What should we start with? Succulent fruit, or admiring some beautiful artwork? Would you like your dinner now? Should we bring in dancers?"

"Please," Damocles said. "Please, let me go. How am I supposed to focus on any of that with… with…"

His eyes flickered to the blade. The king pulled off one grape and tossed it into his mouth.

"So," Dionysus said between chews, "you are beginning to understand. Not completely though. Not yet. Tell me, what do you know of my rise to power?"

"It was quick! Meteoric! Your skills, the way you conquered your enemies and fought off Carthage— none could have done it better."

Dionysus picked another grape. He didn't eat this one though, instead keeping it between two fingers.

"This country was a democracy," he said. "Leaders were elected. Many people loved that system. Do you know what happened to it?"

Damocles only had the courage to shake his head.

"I crushed it. Under my heel. I made myself king and marched on our neighbors. I rule on a throne built of blood and bones, over people that remember what they used to have. The only thing I have more of than gold is enemies." He squeezed the grape. It started compressing down, juice dribbling from the ends. "The moment I let down my guard they will come for me. They will take me, they will take my friends, and they will take my family. And then…"

The king's fingers smashed flat. The grape exploded, splattering its insides on the floor. Damocles jumped. His head brushed the sword which swayed, and swayed, before stilling.

Dionysus grinned. "You aren't the first man to sit beneath a sword. Every king— no, every leader, does the same, from the moment he or she takes the throne. So, my foolish subject, come now, and give me a smile."

The other feed hadn't changed. Hector was still standing the exact same way. But I couldn't help seeing it in a new light— particularly the blade on his throat.

"See now?" D asked. "Can't you see why I'm worried? He's in so much danger!"

"But…" Emmitt frowned. "I could be wrong, but Damocles lived, didn't he? I've heard about this. He couldn't take the pressure and left totally embarrassed, but he wasn't hurt. Shouldn't Hector be fine?"

"Maybe a thousand years ago," D said, "But look how you kids know the story now. Mortals still teach it, even using it as a figure of speech. That sword, it's sucked up all that power. It isn't just a sword anymore. It's strongly magical, and it only exists for one thing: judging leaders."

I remembered the Arimaspoi that stole it in the cave, the way the sword had ended him. I had a strong suspicion what a failing grade meant.

"But Hector's not a leader," I said.

D shook her head, which looked funny with her hand still over her eyes. "You wouldn't know. I've watched the Hyperboreans for a looong time, long enough to remember the days of his parents. His mom, she was closest any Hyperborean has ever come to replacing the Hyperboreades. Everybody loved her. And Hector took after her, so everybody loved him, too. Just because he's spent the last few centuries differently doesn't make that go away. If Hector tried to take action, tried to take control…"

"The sword would activate." I stared at the screen. It was his choice, so I shouldn't have felt guilty, but I couldn't help feeling like we'd helped land him in the situation. All of a sudden, I got an idea.

"D, you said we're seeing this through your roots, right?"

"Hm? Yeah, that's right."

"And, back in the cave, you talked to us through roots. Could you do that with these ones? Could you pass on a message?"

"I could." She hesitated. "What were you thinking? If you surprise him, it could be bad. Even I don't know what will activate that sword."

"It'll be fine," I said, hoping I sounded confident. "Tell him, we're okay. Say things went slightly wrong, but we can still finish the plan. We're coming back, he just has to hang in there."

"Okay." D didn't sound convinced, but she held the sides of her seat. A root sprouted from her forehead and connected to the screen.

"Hector," her voice said from the screen, "you know me not, but I am a gracious messenger. Hear my words: your friends are alive and well, shielded by gracious succor. Thy plan is still possible. Take heart, their return is imminent!"

Hector tensed. His eyes whipped around, trying to find who was talking. At the words, though, he relaxed slightly. He didn't risk speaking, but he bobbed his head a tiny bit. A nod.

"Whew." The root retracted back into D's head. She wiped a brow that couldn't sweat with the back of her hand. "I'm glad that went well."

"Mistress," Edgar said, "did you really have to translate the message that way?"

"Why not? It got the info across."

"It's…" Edgar shook his head. "Never mind."

On my left, Emmitt was looking at our host even more reverently than before. He'd already been excited, but seeing her transmit our message seemed like it had brought things to a whole new level.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

D waved her hand. "Talk through the roots? It's nothing too difficult. Trees already have voices. It's just about tapping into them."

"I know," Emmitt said. "I can hear them. I've always been able to hear them. But I've never met someone that can make regular people hear."

D turned to him. "I've always been able to do it. Maybe it comes with not having always been a tree, so translating is more natural for me. I can't really explain it. You just have to push in a way, until the language changes."

Emmitt didn't answer. If you pulled open his head I imagined you'd find his mind racing a million miles a minute, but toward what I couldn't tell you. D turned away.

"You all should get some rest," she said. "I've talked at you for long enough. You'll be safe here to relax for a bit."

Bianca was still super out of it, trying to come to terms with the fact she was as old as a grandma. And now Emmitt was in his own world too, plotting something.

"Edgar," I said, "you should take those two out."

My Kallikantzaroi friend frowned. "You aren't coming?"

"In a minute. I still have one more thing to ask."

"It's fine," D said. "I'll send him along shortly."

Edgar looked between us. Then he nodded. He led my friends out of the room, and they followed him without a word, which was another sign they were really out of it.

"You managed to blow both of their minds in one conversation," I said. "That's impressive."

D hummed. "'Twas an accident, I swear. And what about you? I don't seem to have blown your mind, but you did stay behind for a private talk, so perhaps I've got time yet."

"You know what," I said, "you just might."

I was almost certain now: I knew where I remembered her from. I had seen that face before, although it looked a little different to then, and that last time hadn't been in person. I'd realized it as she talked to Emmitt, right when she said she hadn't always been a tree. Once it came to me, I felt silly for not recognizing it earlier.

"D," I said, "That's just the first letter of your name, isn't it? The full thing… I know you. You're Daphne."

(-)