“Might be more in storage,” Daniel said. “I’ll take a look.”

“Thanks! I’ll bring these back in good shape.” The Smith turned back from the ladder. “In fact, if there’s any way I could buy them . . .”

“Currency, chits, or barter.” Daniel offered his most winning smile. “I’m open to anything that buys my next meal.”

The Smith beamed, suddenly boyish. “I’ll come up with something.”

“Meanwhile, enjoy them for free, um . . . ?”

“Irv.” The Smith juggled books and stuck out an eager hand.

Daniel shook it. “Later, then, Irv.”

“So glad you came!”

Rubio’s new friend, I realized, who’d be joining Den Search Central. Geeky, but seemed nice enough. I watched him labor his armload up the ladder, all too aware of Daniel looking me over like he hadn’t seen me just moments ago.

“So. There you are. Home in one piece the other night?”

I struggled to sound offhand. “More or less. But getting back was pretty hairy.”

“Did you have to swim?”

“Worse. Halfway down the pass-thrus, I nearly got napped by Storm Worshippers and thrown onto their bonfire.”

Daniel snorted. “I’m guessing they had other ideas in mind.”

I felt heat in my cheeks and was glad the spill from the cabin lights was dim. But a wild thought grabbed at me. “Don’t suppose you’re a whiz with a bow and arrow?”

“A what?”

“You know . . .” I mimed shooting, but Daniel looked mystified. Of course. Couldn’t have been him. “Never mind. As my buddy Rubio says, all in a day’s work.”

He sat on the bench opposite, still scrutinizing me. “You cut your hair.”

“Umm.” My hands went to it before I could stop them. Good thing I’d let Jenn do that trim. “Easier when it’s short.”

Daniel brushed his own close crop. “Absolutely. So, say. You like my floating library?”

“Amazing! You threw all this together since Joseph?”

“No way. This is my picking barge. I live on it, when I’m away from my squat. I low-throttle around the flood zones, tie up at a likely windowsill and see what’s inside. No one coming back for their books anytime soon.”

“Our tellers think books are something to light fires with.”

“So do squatters and rogues, for the most part. Sometimes I’ll get into a beautiful, dry room lined with bookshelves, and all there’ll be left is a pile of ashes in the middle of the floor. Maybe a readable spine or two, so the loss cuts even deeper.”

“Boats are the best way to get at stuff.” I recalled the den girl shouldering a kayak outside St. Pat’s. “But as long as a picker’s got two feet, she’s expected to use ’em, least till there’re more boats to go around. Where’d you get this one?”