“Angus,” Gumble interrupted, “we can plainly see that the boy has suffered a long and painful journey. He’s been separated from his home and his family. Fled grave danger. Let’s continue this tomorrow.”

At that instant, a door behind her blew open, and something came into the dining hall carrying a tray.

Some “thing,” Isaac thought, because he couldn’t see the whole of it, because it was only as tall as Isaac’s waist and carried the tray above its head. Isaac could see its feet, which were bare and grassy green. “Not before sweets,” came a lilting voice from below the tray, which it deposited on the table in front of Isaac, revealing itself.

It was a she, with green skin and curling lavender hair, wearing an apron over a full, round, bright orange skirt. She tossed her hair and said, “I’m Lark. Did you like it?” She pointed at Isaac’s clean plate.

Isaac nodded.

“Lark’s a ghillie-dhu,” Kat said, “in case you’ve never met one.”

“I have not,” Isaac murmured, nodding hello.

“Ghillies like to experiment with different human activities,” Amelie said brightly. The way she said “experiment” gave Isaac pause. “Lark wants to learn to cook. She’s still learning, aren’t you, Lark?”

Lark rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Have a sweet?” she said shyly, as she pushed the tray toward Isaac.

The food Isaac had finished had looked weird but tasted good. These—they seemed to be tiny cakes—looked very good indeed.

“Um,” Amelie began, but stopped when Lark gave her a narrow-eyed glance.

Isaac took one of the cakes and put it in his mouth, and . . .

. . . tried not to gag.

“Good?” Lark asked in a slightly threatening way.

“Mmphf,” Isaac responded. He swallowed the rest without chewing, to get that bitter taste out of his mouth.

Kat’s lips were pressed together as if she was trying to stifle a laugh.

“More?” Lark asked, and Isaac shook his head and patted his stomach. He was afraid to speak until the awful taste settled, then he took several great gulps of water.

No one else took a cake, all of them looking vague or thoughtful or preoccupied.

“Come on,” Amelie said. “I’ll show you upstairs.” She rose from the table, suppressing a smile.

Isaac raised his hand in a goodbye and grabbed his pack. Weariness overcame him. It had been a long day—a very long few weeks—punctuated by fear.

From behind him, Isaac heard Kat say, “See you in the morning.”

Then they all began to murmur, and Isaac was pretty sure they were talking about him.

*   *   *

“You can take any room with an open door,” Amelie said. “There are lots of rooms. We used to have more people here.” She sounded wistful.