Camellia sat at her kitchen table. Florian, not usually the family cook, hovered around the counter and prepared a meal for them and their guests.

Sten rose and offered his help. That left Benham, Meladee, and Eva as Camellia’s table companions.

“They knocked down two cranes in our supply yard, and we’ll need to repair our capitol building. Other than that, I would say the damage was minimal.” Eva put her cup of wine down and crossed her arms. “There isn’t much damage they could do to a ransacked land such as Lurren.”

Camellia looked at Meladee. “What about Tagtrum?”

Meladee shrugged. “I tore up the capital’s lawn, but it’s fine. No one knows it was me.” Meladee looked towards the ceiling. “Well, they probably know, but the Volanter did worse. So, that puts me in the clear.”

Benham leaned on the table, chin in hand. “I’m glad we live on our ships. I don’t think I could trust you with a lawn.”

Meladee waved a dismissive hand. “Lawns are wasteful. You got to water it and hope it gets enough sun. And, then, when you least expect it, bam – ” Meladee hit the table with her hand.

Camellia and the others jumped, even Eva.

“Your grass seedlings are dead from Pythium blight.”

“You speak as if this has happened to you before.” Sten turned to give Meladee his full attention as he awaited her answer.

Meladee nodded. “Happened to my mom at the inn. Big hassle.”

“Your mom at the inn…?” Benham said quietly.

Camellia agreed. It was a change to hear Meladee talk about the family she came from and, perhaps, a sign of some forward motion for Meladee.

“At least we got the Mountaineer back. I don’t trust that pizza man as a pilot. He put a lot of dings in the hull.” Benham shot a sidelong glance at Meladee. “Who doesn’t lock the ship?”

Meladee rolled her eyes up and avoided his gaze. “Mostly you.”

Benham sighed.

Camellia adjusted her dress under the table. She was finally approaching the point where she wouldn’t be able to hide anything, though she imagined in the right dress, she could get a few more weeks out of it. She was only a little over halfway through, with a hopefully sleepy few months ahead. She had no more plans to start new friendships or projects. She would hide out in their still-standing house and read papers and hope the Volanter didn’t take a long trek into their system from surrounding space.

“So, what was the damage to Groaza?” Benham asked.

Camellia did not answer immediately. She busied herself looking down.

Florian answered, “Some damaged buildings. Nothing too costly to repair. The Volanter were kind enough not to damage the AAH. But then again, after that cult business, our little organization has gone back to its old ways of cowering, like proper scholars. The Volanter were probably met by a bunch of sniveling historians and restorationists and decided not to put a spell on them.” Florian banged the side of the pot with the spoon, shaking water from its edges. “Of course, our neighborhood graveyard has a sinkhole at the center, but we can attribute that to Eder.”

“Good for him,” Meladee said. “It’s the kind of magic I really appreciate.”

Florian put some water in front of Camellia. She glanced up and thanked him with a look.

“So…” Benham began. “What happens now? We were able to get that anti-wormhole mojo working. Does that mean this is over?”

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Eva sipped some of her wine. “They’ll attack Scaldigir next and maybe try to reach us from there. Or, they’ll just portal further out and work their way in. We’ll make a perimeter of traps to prevent such an occasion, but nothing will stop them from coming back if they want.”

“Nothing but magical fists.” Meladee punched the air.

Benham smiled.

“We should send for Pen Pal.” Camellia said.

She couldn’t call to check on him. During the invasion, the Volanter spirited away the AAH’s com. Iruedim still had Rooks’ device, but that wasn’t allowed off the Fauchard. Camellia wondered if Pen Pal thought she’d just run off and given up on his freedom. She hated to think it.

Eva downed the rest of her wine. “Nothing is so bad that we need a being like Pen Pal.”

Florian poured her more, but of course, it couldn’t get Eva drunk. It was simply the only organic food that Eva thought was worth her time.

“The Volanter sent someone after me, so that I couldn’t tell where Pen Pal is.” After the fight, Camellia had told all, in a hurriedly penned page. She made two copies. She gave one to Rooks and one to Panphila. Camellia felt that Rooks and Pan were the two people most open to searching for Pen Pal and perhaps the only two with the power to make it happen.

Eva shook her head. “I already voted against it.”

Camellia felt as if she deflated. “Oh. I wonder if you could take it back. You said yourself that they’ll keep coming. They’ll try new things. They’ll build new ships.”

“You forget they can’t reproduce that fast,” Eva said. “We killed a lot of them.”

“But…” Camellia countered. “They didn’t actually lose that many people, now did they? I read the wreckage report, and the ships were lightly staffed and most crew abandoned ship, especially in the last battle. They might have thousands more Volanter stashed away.”

“They won’t risk that many.” Eva shook her head. “They send small groups because they’re cautious. They don’t like setbacks in research or population growth.”

“They’ll convince other Children of the Volanter to help, and then, it’ll be worse than we’ve yet had,” Camellia raised her voice and sat a little straighter. “Pen Pal is the answer. I just know it. That’s the only way we’ll be rid of them forever. Otherwise…”

Meladee sat stiff and straight. Her eyes moved around the room. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone, and Camellia could see a thought churn.

Eva just stared at Camellia. “I’ll consider a change to my vote. But, we can’t take one big problem and hope another will cancel it out. It never works.”

“Pen Pal is not a big problem,” Camellia mumbled. “He’s a prisoner.”

Florian put a hand on Camellia’s shoulder.

A few hours later, their friends filed out. Camellia and Florian were alone.

“Try not to think about him too much. He’d understand,” Florian said.

Camellia shook her head. “We’ve left him to rot.”

“We don’t really know who or what he is.”

Camellia didn’t respond aloud, but to herself she said, We know he’s suffering. She headed for the stairs.

Florian put his hand on the bannister and touched her arm. He remained on the floor below and merely interrupted her ascent. “Do you want me to contact your father for you?”

“Oh, I already did. I sent him a letter that said I’d have to think about it. I just don’t feel up to it now, and I don’t know how I’m going to feel in a few months.” Camellia laughed, with little humor. “Probably worse. But, I don’t want to give up the chance just yet.” Camellia shook her head and stared into space. “It would probably be a mistake.”

Florian nodded. “Probably, but we can’t leave his messages unanswered at this point. Maybe, I should send a message and deal with this myself.”

Camellia said, “Well…are you going to tell him about the graveyard and how nicely he’d fit in? Or threaten him to stay away from your family?”

“Give me some credit. I have crossed ocean and land to speak to people far different from Groazans, and I’ve never caused a national incident.”

Camellia smiled. “Okay, you can send something to him. I don’t mind. It probably is better if you take this over – for a while.”

Pan watched Aria run into the arms of Gavain. It was a joyous and sad occasion. Joyous because Gavain wrapped Aria in a hug so comforting it rivaled even the deepest dive into a bed of stuffed animals. Sad because Pan thought Aria cried. At least, Aria seemed to, from the motion of her head and shoulders.

Pan looked away. She was covered in bandages from her wrists to her shoulders and her ankles to her thighs. The Scaldin – and the dragon – had been the ones to injure her, before they could administer power suppressant – probably better called magic suppressant.

Pan would never forget how angry her dragon was and how angry that made her. While she fought the feelings of anger, the dragon let them overtake it. The power suppressant forced her familiar to disappear, back to the place it came from, wherever that was. The beast needed some time out, and Pan intended to give it a fairly long one. Pan looked at her hands. Her magic returned slow, but she would get the feel for it, within the day.

“Hello.” Sotir appeared at her side.

Pan startled and stepped away.

Sotir’s gaze softened. “I know you’re feeling a little rough around the edges. Might I offer a suggestion?”

“What?”

Sotir smiled and pulled a card from his shirt. He served it to Pan, and she saw the lovers.

Pan grinned, but she tried not to. She snatched it and hid it against her chest. She had never been so happy to see it.

“Well?” Sotir asked.

“As if you don’t know.”