“Oh. Yes, Marin told me that the man they’d found was your father. But you weren’t happy to see him? I thought you were looking for him.”

“I was,” Isaak said sheepishly. “But I realized afterward that maybe some things are better left not found.”

I looked down at my feet. “I think I know what you mean.”

Isaak moved to the creekside, crouching and peering into the dark water. “Any news about Ceilos?”

“None.”

“Figures. Did you get a chance to ask Gitrin about the time postern?”

I sighed. “Yes. I thought she might have saved a copy of the plans, but she left all her research behind in Hope Renewed.”

“Whoever broke into her apartment probably has it now, then.” He glanced up at me. “The geroi, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. Isaak grinned at the gesture, and I self-consciously rubbed my arms, half turning away from him. “She said she could probably recreate the plans relatively easily, but sending you back home might be harder. The posternkey that you used to get here would have the space-time coordinates stored on it, but Melusin has that now.”

His shoulders slumped. He breathed in slowly, staring at the creek so long I worried that I’d upset him. Then he finally nodded, seemingly resigned. “So there’s no way for me to get home without it?”

“I don’t know.” Hesitantly, I stepped forward and placed my hand on his shoulder. “There might be another way. What about your father? Does he still have the key he used?”

He shrugged and stood up, brushing off his pants and walking a few paces away.

Something inside me curled in on itself, and I suddenly felt exhausted. “I’m sorry, Isaak,” I whispered.

He looked at me. “It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. Especially after—” I broke off, swallowing hard. I wasn’t ready to go into that with Isaak, everything that had happened with Ceilos, everything I’d done to cause this disaster. “I thought everything would fix itself when we got here—that I’d suddenly have all the answers. But I feel like I understand less now than I ever have before. All I have are more and more questions, and never, never any answers.”

As I spoke, something wet hit the side of my cheek. I felt it again, on the top of my head this time. Startled, I looked at the sky. The clouds above us were thick and dark. As I gazed up, another water droplet hit me in my eye.

“What is that?” I asked.

Isaak glanced up. “Oh, it’s sprinkling,” he said, as if it were the most uninteresting thing in the world.

I cupped my hand, and a few more droplets plinked into my palm. “Rain?”

“Yeah.”