She found a few stones in the morning surf, returned to the bar, and threw the stones up against the ceiling as hard as she could, one by one. They left white marks on the heavy boards. When she exhausted her ammunition without provoking a response, she collected the fallen rocks and tried again. Four volleys later she heard a foul groan and a scramble of limbs against wood. A hatch in the ceiling opened and Mako’s face appeared, surrounded by a gray seaweed tangle of hair. “Get outta here, we’re closed.”

“Shame,” Kai replied, hefting another rock. “Even closed for conversation?”

“Kai! This is a bad time.”

“I need to talk. Who is it you have up there that you can’t bother later?”

“Bothering’s what the kids call it these days?” He cackled, or coughed. Kai wasn’t sure which. “Not a who. A what. Dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?”

“War dreams.”

“Figure I just did you a favor, pulling you out of nightmares.”

“These aren’t nightmares.”

“I’ve never heard of good war dreams.”

“You’ve never seen a war. Don’t talk as if you know.” He beat a tattoo on the hatch with his fingers. “What are you here for?”

“We need to talk. In private.”

He spit, and the spit splashed into the dust on the floor beside her. “I’ll be down.” His head disappeared, and Kai watched the hole, wondering if he’d stumbled back to bed.

Wood groaned; metal screeched. A ladder appeared in the hatch, tipped down, and fell, unfolding. Metal feet clapped against the stone floor. Mako descended the ladder like a drunken spider, feeling each step with his toes. She spotted him with her hands. He hadn’t fallen yet, not in all the years she’d known him, but he was an old man, getting older.

“You ever think about taking a room on the ground floor? Or moving out of the Rest?”

He stepped off the ladder, touched a glyph on its side, and nodded in satisfaction as the ladder shuddered and rose, retreating back into the ceiling hatch. “Eve would kill me. You have any idea how much she spent putting that thing in?”

“More than you’re worth.”

“Hah.” A dirty brown earthworm scrunched over Mako’s bare foot. He plucked it up and threw it underhanded onto the sand. “Maybe so. To what do I owe the pleasure of your interruption?”

“I’d like your advice. In private.” She glanced down the beach toward the Penitents standing guard. They weren’t looking her way, but they listened well.