Zan re-emerged in Luxley’s room to find a cleared space for him on the bed, where he typically emerged. That was nice of him, Zan thought. Though to his benefit, too. One of these times I am going to come in and wham, I’m going to step on his junk. By accident, of course. Accident or not, it would be painful.

Although Luxley cleared an area for Zan, a whole mess of blankets pushed to one side of the bed, thus, Zan’s landing zone was merely an empty bed free of the comforter tangle, Zan did not see Luxley himself. He had only been away for a few hours.

Evidently, that was enough.

Looking around the room and not seeing the boy, Zan wondered what he should do.

Looking at the supremely comfy looking bed, Zan considered taking a nap. He had never been privy to such a gorgeous bed. Zan felt rested merely by looking at the bed, let alone actually sleeping in it, which must be a dream in itself.

All this idle thinking he did not do seriously.

Zan knew he had to move, find Luxley, then extract himself from the situation.

Sleeping in a bed — ha! Heck, of a good way to get me imprisoned. One snooping maid or butler or slave and Zan would find himself in a dungeon cell.

Looking at the shimmering portal leading to the Backroads, Zan considered returning home. He did not, however. Not only did he not want to wait another few hours before he could return, which would mean a trip the next day, he wanted to give Luxley the honeycomb horn himself; leaving it somewhere in his room for him to find was not an option. Since Zan did not know how to write or even draw, he could not leave an instruction note, either. His only option was to wait for Luxley.

How long would he need to wait? Did it make sense to wait all day? Through the night? Now, thinking of it, Zan was becoming sleepy. He had been up for a solid day wrestling with the Backroads, friendship, and dead languages.

Electing to stay for at least a few hours, Zan had a look around the room.

Fancily bound books lined a shelf; toys of an incredible design filled an ornate wooden chest; on the walls, maps of unknown intent, filtered over by circles and triangles, and other shapes besides, covered the landmasses of reality, though to show what intent, Zan did not know; and then was wardrobe. Filled with clothes. Fancy clothes! If I took one, he wouldn’t notice, would he? Zan wrested with the thought of stealing.

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Though his hand glazed the cozy fabrics, Zan did not take the garment. He wanted to, heaven knows he did, but he would not treat his new friend like so, and steal from him. It would be a bad start to the relationship.

In his malaise, wandering the room, Zan had not heard the chamber door open.

Too late, then, for him, a voice said, “Young Master! Sorry I am late — a seven wagon crash leading into the castle today! You wouldn’t believe the noise from so many overturned bovines! No one was badly hurt, though. So… that’s something.”

Zan turned around right away.

A woman dressed in a fine, though not overly luxurious dress, stood before him.

Zan frooze.

He had been discovered!

What should he do?!

What could he do?!

His fingers moving before he even had the complete idea in mind. Zan hurried off his scabbard and grenades, tossing them to a nearby desk.

To his front, the woman was busy momentarily grabbing items from her bag. Books and the sort. She must be a tutor, Zan thought. A tutor who thoughts I was Luxley?

With his weapons on Luxley’s study desk, Zan had seconds before the woman saw his non-Luxley face. What would she do? He was about to find out—

“Oh! That is unexpected… you’re not Luxley,” she said, finishing hauling out her materials onto the storage box at the foot of Luxley’s bed.

“No! Ma’am. I’m not. Clearly… I-I’m…” Zan stuttered.

In all the time he wasted back in the command center fretting, waiting for time to pass so he could re-enter the Backroads, he never considered stealth options, or what he should do if someone found him. Heck, he didn’t even take more smoke grenades.

“And what are those on the table? Are those weapons yours? Who are you?” the woman again asked, this time, though, eying the exit.

“I’m a friend! Luxley’s friend,” Zan stuttered out. “Those weapons were already here when I arrived. I was messing with them when you came in because I was curious. That’s all, ma’am.”

Zan saw the relief on the woman’s face. She bought the lie hook, line, and sinker.

Whether she saw the relief on his face, Zan felt a tension vanish. No dungeon. Not yet, anyway. What the next minute held was another story, however.

“Ah! Wonderful. Master Luxley has so few friends. It is nice to see him try,” the woman said. “But where are my manners? My name is Miss Maggie Weathers. Private tutoring is my game. Master Luxley must be spending time in the chamber pot… he is of that age, you know…”

Not knowing what ‘Miss Maggie Weathers’ meant, Zan smiled. Shook his head.

“You know all about that yourself, though. You boys are all the same. Primal needs and all that. Rest assured, young master, gain a few years, and there is more to life, you’ll learn, than your dingus. Okay, I need to finish setting up my books. Out!” Maggie said, ushering Zan into the hallway before he realized what was happening.

With the door shut behind him, Zan for the first time saw a part of this place, this castle?, which was not merely Luxley’s personal room.

And he was terrified.