“Yes,” she said, looking off into the distance. “It seems almost as far away as it did before we crossed the chasm.”

“To me it seems farther,” David said from behind me. He walked on, checking and rechecking his position locator.

“Maybe,” I said, “I expected the journey would be a bit easier.”

“It’s not exactly a luxury cruise, is it?” Victoria smiled like someone who’d been on her share of them.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if … if the King were here with us,” I said. “I’m puzzled by his silence. Why doesn’t he just explain what he wants of us?”

We stopped for lunch, my least favorite meal, but Quon hadn’t caught anything, and at least I didn’t have to worry about seeing a tail hanging out of my sandwich. We’d separated from the rivers some time ago, and pure water was harder to find, so Shad instructed us to ration.

Everyone pitched in something from their packs, and David brought out a variety of freeze-dried packets, or MREs—Meals Ready to Eat. They were the civilian equivalent of C-rations and had nothing going for them but nutrition, and even that was questionable. The fact that we couldn’t drink freely to wash them down rubbed salt into my culinary wound.

“I’d kill for some lasagna and French bread,” I whispered to David.

“Me too,” he said. “And how about some Dutch apple pie à la mode?”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Shad came our way, and David got up and walked off. Shad reached into his satchel. He pulled out four books, similar to his own, and gave one to Malaiki, Victoria, Quon, and me.

“You each need your own RoadGuide. All who walk the red road must read it. Repeat its words until they flow from your heart like water from a fountain. You must study the map, or you will get lost … or stray from the road … or be unprepared for what you encounter on it.”

“You’re always reading it,” Victoria said. “Can’t we just follow your lead? Besides, the red road is obvious, isn’t it?”

“The book is your guide, your compass. Don’t underestimate your ability to depart from the true road. Don’t trust your instinct or your logic—don’t even trust me. I don’t trust myself. Trust only the RoadGuide.”

What do you mean, you don’t trust yourself? Now that’s reassuring!

I turned through the pages, reading instructions here and there, looking at the maps, scanning the many stories of those who’d walked the red road before.

“It’s a corrective lens,” Shad said. “It allows us to see Skiathuros as it really is, to catch glimpses of the worlds we walk between. Look here,” he said, taking it out of my hands, flipping the pages and pointing to a paragraph on one page.