“You know how to find maps, I know how to find gardening tools. My adopted mother was an herbalist.” The thought of Nandita quelled her cheerful mood. Nandita had helped create Kira, she knew everything about her, and yet she’d never said a word. Why? Why deceive her? Had she just hoped that the problems would all go away on their own, and that Kira would grow up and grow old and die, and never have to face the truth about who she was and where she came from? If she’d really cared, thought Kira, she’d have given me something to go on. Some help or guidance or advice that would help me to deal with all of this. She would have told me what I was built for, and why, and what I was supposed to do.

With a flash she remembered an old conversation—nearly two years ago now, one of the last times she’d ever seen Nandita before the old woman disappeared. Kira had just come home from the salvage run in Asharoken, the one where they’d triggered a bomb, and Nandita was putting away her herbs. I was troubled about something, thought Kira, probably the bombing, and Nandita said . . . Kira shook her head in disbelief, the words flooding back to her. She said exactly what I needed to hear—not then, but now. Every life has a purpose, Kira. But the most important thing you can ever know is that no matter what your purpose is, that’s not your only choice.

“Groundskeeper,” said Green. Kira looked up and saw a large brick building, the white gabled roof now cracked and yellowing with age; all around it was a wide green lawn, now overgrown with bushes and weeds and a loose forest of ten-year-old trees. There was a sign buried in the middle of the foliage, but it was too vine-choked to read.

“Looks like a government building,” said Kira. “City hall or something. They don’t always have groundskeeping equipment on site, because they handled all their properties from a central location.”

“Maybe this is the central location,” said Green. “Doesn’t hurt to check.” They walked around the side and back, finding a parking lot but no toolshed. Behind the building there was a baseball field, but this, too, had no tools or gloves or anywhere to store them. They made their way back to the main road, ready to press on and look for another park or a school, but Kira stopped in front of a house. Green shook his head. “Too fancy; they didn’t do any of their yard work themselves.”

“Not yard work,” said Kira, “but look at the sign. ‘Home Theater Design and Installation.’ I don’t know what a home theater is, but I bet they used gloves to install them.”