She could not think that True knew of the depths of misery in this place.

If he did, she had to believe he’d do something about it.

However, she could not think on that now either.

She could not think of True and his plans for his realm, knowing he was a man who would do something about this place, and how something settled inside her, knowing that. Settled for a land not her own. Settled knowing it had gone through an era of weak rule, but now found itself led by strength.

She could not think on Ha-Lah and Silence, off to their homes, the danger they were all in and how Serena would need weeks, nay, months, of training them so they could properly defend themselves if they were called upon to do so.

She could not think on how she could not fathom why she cared about that.

She could also not think on how it felt, spending time with them during the little she had. And even if they sensed all was not right with her, they did not goad her to anger or bitterness, as her lieutenants (and she had to admit, her mentor) would do. They did not press her to internalize it, feed on it, use it to make her a better witch, a craftier warrior.

They ignored it but did so seeming to endeavor to handle her with care, not knowing how to do that for they did not know her.

But they tried.

She could not think that if Chu had not ended things, if Elena had not been so hurt and angry she’d also ended things, Serena might have found…

Teaching Ha-Lah and Silence…

Their keenness to the task, their easy way of laughing at themselves when they did something wrong, but striving to do it right the next time…

She would have found it…

Fun.

She could not think on any of that.

She had to be in the now.

And in the now, she had to know.

She had to know why that troll was there, sprawled in the doorway, the area about him littered with empty bottles of spirits.

For his doorway was not crumbling, no longer the entry to nothing beyond.

His doorway was sturdy, with well-oiled iron hinges and a shiny-new lock at its latch.

And what lay beyond was dark, the windows boarded from the inside, and it was one of the few buildings in all the Shanty that was stout.

She sipped her grog, sparingly, for she’d not only had no baths, but also little food. She did this as Chu had taught her. She needed to embody her disguise, and in doing so, losing weight and being haggard, for doing this was much better than trying to look haggard.

Mostly, she spilled it upon herself not only to appear intoxicated, but the smell also assisted in her pretense.

There were many empty bottles around the troll. He belched often (and loud). He snored often (also loud). And he had a large, but dwindling, stack of crates filled with similar bottles ensconced in the entryway of the building. These crates, and the bottles within, full.