He nodded to the pocket on his leather apron. Claire was confused at first, until she noticed the outline of an embroidered heron. So that was how: a Messaging Thread. The last time she’d seen one, a heron had unstitched itself from Sophie’s hem and flown to seek Nadia for help.

“Nadia let me know a gaggle of children would probably attempt something foolish,” Scythe continued. Sweat gleamed on his bald head and gold dust coated his hands. “She asked me to keep an eye out for them. Good thing, too,” he said, the rhythmic scratch pausing for just a second as he looked up to glare at Nett and Sophie, “or someone else might have discovered you trapped in the treasury.” The scratch-scratch resumed, and then—

“Aha!” Scythe suddenly said. There was one more scratch of metal on metal and then a sharp clank as the gauntlet fell to the floor. Sena’s hand was free.

“Yes!” she said, wiggling her fingers, which looked fine, if a little pink. After a few more shakes, Sena wrapped her hand around Fireblood’s hilt and gave it a few swings. Clearly she’d been practicing. The sword moved easily in a silver blur, reminding Claire of Lyric and the Spinner dancers and how easily they twirled their Starfell ribbons. Scythe, meanwhile, had picked up the golden glove and was weighing it carefully in his palm, already calculating its value. He placed it on an empty shelf and came to join the picnic.

“Nice work,” Nett said, scooting over to make room for the burly Forger. “Though I admit I’ll miss being able to use Sena’s hand as a mirror to check for any boogers.”

“Don’t worry,” Sena drawled, sheathing Fireblood at last and joining them. “I can slice off your nose if you want. Save you the inconvenience.”

Sophie and Thorn laughed, but Claire only smiled. Something still worried her. Something still didn’t make sense. “Mr. Scythe, one of the rules of Woven Root is that no one can leave Woven Root. So how are you here?”

“I never said I was a member of Woven Root. I’ve never been,” Scythe said as he picked up the last two biscuits. “But I’ve known Nadia since before even she learned of Woven Root, back when she went by Diana.”

Claire nodded; she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with Scythe, but she felt better knowing Nadia trusted him with her most precious treasure of all: Woven Root.

She looked at Sophie. She seemed relaxed. Sophie must trust Scythe, too.

“Mr. Scythe,” Claire said, “are you able to send a message to Nadia?” And when he nodded, she took a deep breath. “Okay. Here’s what we know.”