His place was smaller than mine and Dagny’s. It was all one room, other than the tiny bathroom in the corner. He had a queen-sized bed, a desk, and a small kitchenette with a hot plate and small fridge. The roof was pitched, so he didn’t even have full head space at the edge of the apartment on the north and south walls, and he used that space for storage—an oversized dresser, a squat bookcase, and a crate of records and battered paperbacks.

His style seemed more functional than intentional, with most of the furniture pieces looking like well-maintained thrift store finds. The bed was made with a slate gray blanket, and there were framed pictures on his dresser—him as a scrawny tween and a beautiful older woman hugging him, presumably his mother. The only art on the walls were band posters.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” He moved toward the kitchenette portion of the room and motioned for me to sit down on the short futon near the end of his bed. Brueger, the dog, was sprawled out on the rug, gnawing on a thick bone.

My stomach growled. Eating on the road was always challenging. “I would, actually, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“I never keep my place super stocked, but I do have some plumberry wine and honey butter that’s great on wheat bread,” Pan said, and he was already pulling the wine out of the fridge.

I settled back into the futon and exhaled deeply. Two days ago, Sunniva’s aural healing had taken a lot out of me, and the next morning I hit the road. I was exhausted through and through, and this was the first time I’d truly been able to relax in days.

“That sounds amazing, thank you,” I said gratefully.

Brueger finally set aside his bone and came over to greet me, his tail wagging happily. He was a big, beautiful puppy—a dog really. A sturdy Belgian Malinois with a coat of dark fawn and black, and his left ear drooping instead of pointing straight up like a triangle the way the other one did.

I scratched him between the ears and asked Pan, “How have things been here?”

“Fine.” He leaned back against the counter, waiting for the bread to toast. “Nothing’s really changed since I talked to you this afternoon.”

I’d called him from the road, and told him all about Jem and Johan and time dilation, and about my seemingly prophetic dream, and everything I remembered, and the conclusions I had come to with Finn, Jem, and Sumi.