If she continued on the same path she was on now, she would die fighting. Heroically, but probably needlessly. She needed to feel competent, to be in a place where her skills were valued, so she could stop seeing herself as a failed werewolf. I needed to talk to her more, but it was almost 10 pm, and I had somewhere else to be.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Derryl of Is.”

I waved my arm. The wall in front of us opened into a new room with a floor-to-ceiling window that offered a soothing view of our pond. I slid the medward bed into it, lightened the walls to a comfortable, soothing blue-gray, and added a screen, some furniture, and a plush rug.

“Things are not as bleak as they look, Derryl,” I told her. “You still have a couple of days to recuperate. Rest. We’ll talk again.”

* * *

I knocked on the door of the Gaheas’ quarters. The door opened slightly, giving me a narrow view of a female Gaheas. Like most of her people, she was tall and willowy, with amber skin and long, dark hair put away into an elaborate arrangement on top of her head. When Gaheas felt at ease, they let their hair down, literally. With the exception of their candidate, not a single one of them let themselves have a L’Oreal moment after that first opening ceremony. They considered themselves to be in enemy territory.

“A calm night to you, innkeeper,” the Gaheas said. “How can I be of service?”

“A calm night to you as well. I have a small gift for Nycati.”

“Now isn’t a good time,” the guard said.

“On the contrary, now is the perfect time. It is the end of the 4th Phase, and if we wait another half an hour, it will be too late.”

I raised my hand and made a small gesture, gently forcing the door to open a bit wider. Behind me Gaston carried a large trunk. I lifted the lid so she could see the shimmering fabric inside.

The woman’s eyes widened. She stepped aside, inviting me to enter with a sweep of her hand. I walked in, with Gaston right behind me.

The interior of the Gaheas’ common room was perfectly round. While they recognized the need for straight lines in technology, when it came to their living arrangements, they considered corners inauspicious. The floor was smooth and gray, like soapstone. The walls were slightly curved, forming a gentle dome overhead, and made of burled wood and smoky resin. On their native planet, the resin would be polished quartz, seamlessly fitted to the wood swirls, but we had to make the quarters in a hurry, and the tinted resin was a quick and easy substitute.