His men understood him just fine. They pulled forth a makeshift cage of petrified wood. It swayed atop stone wheels, filling the abandoned city with creaking. Within it huddled a gaggle of girls Kane instantly recognized from the cheerleading squad, except their uniforms had been replaced with oddly dated looks that contrasted with the rough environment. There was Veronica McMann wearing a blue blouse, her hair pushed into a bun. And Ashley Benton in a once-crisp cream-colored pantsuit. And the third might have been Heather Nguyen, but her hands were pressed to her face while she sobbed.

The girls and their outfits were a further complexity Kane couldn’t make sense of. But the cheerleading squad practiced near the football field. They would have been in the stadium, too.

Slowly, it dawned on Kane: the men pulling the carts looked familiar, too. It had taken him a second of hard staring to look through the armor, but their sneering faces all looked like boys from the football team.

“Hurry or I’ll sacrifice you all!” roared the leader. The boys cheered merrily and the girls whimpered.

“Sir,” one called, “You know none of us to be virgins. Th’mighty Cymotherian would be furious if she tasted our spoilt blood!”

The brigade trundled on, and Kane followed in the shadows. The next swell of red light allowed him to see a fourth girl in the cage. She was at the back and was not crying. She held her arms crossed over her chest and looked outward with an expression of annoyance. She wore a rosy dress that belled just above her knees, and the stiff magenta belt clasped around her waist matched her shiny magenta pumps. Her copper hair had been coiffed into a bulbous beehive that stayed up—huge and proud—with no deference to gravity, and on her upturned nose balanced a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Quite clearly there was a dent of contempt between her newly sculpted eyebrows.

Kane gasped. It was Ursula.

He began to comprehend her final words before he’d slammed the door shut.

I’ll find you. It wasn’t a threat. It was a warning. A promise. She’d known.

This was the reverie. This was what Kane was not supposed to discover but was somehow supposed to unravel.

He crept to the back of the cart, where no barbarians were stationed, and was able to get right up to the cage without anyone even noticing.

“Ursula.”

Ursula’s foot tapped impatiently. She didn’t respond.

“Uuursulaaa.”

Nothing.

Kane stuck his finger through the bars and poked her side. One of Ursula’s hands darted out and caught Kane’s finger, then dragged him close.

“Hush,” she hissed, still facing away. “You need to hide. Now.”

Her grip was like iron. Kane thought of the torn fence. How easily could she break his knuckles if she wanted to?

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he whispered.