But Danny set to work without insisting they do anything. “Just help as much as you want to. And if you want to go home now, the gate’s right there.” Danny didn’t even look at them. Just started digging.

Pretty soon they were digging beside him.

If they had been archaeologists, they would have proceeded methodically, slowly. But they weren’t archaeologists, and this probably wasn’t even an excavatable site. Because as Danny and Hal and Wheeler dug into the sand, Danny began to remember the place. Not his own memories, of course. But he knew without knowing how he knew just who had lived here. A monk. A Christian ascetic, not one of the ones who collected disciples, but one of the few who avoided them. Only Loki had gone to him.

There was the cave. Or rather, the depression in the cliff. It’s not like he had to stay out of the rain—and since he had chosen a south-facing cave, he wasn’t even staying out of the sun.

No, he was staying out of the sight of people who came looking for him. He really didn’t want to be found.

Did he want to die?

Suicide would be a sin. This was a holy man. He didn’t want to die. He had a friend who brought him water, and he shielded his face, his whole bald head, from the sun. Under a little awning.

I came here—Loki came here—and brought his own water and then just sat here. Day after day. Saying nothing. Danny remembered it, the silence.

After a few days—on Sunday, actually—the hermit said, in Greek, “Go away.”

In that instant, Danny remembered gating away. Right in front of the man. Letting him see that he was a gatemage.

Of course, it was Loki who had done that. Whatever he wanted from this man, it depended on the man knowing just what Loki was, what he could do.

“You’ve stopped digging,” said Hal. “Are we done?”

Danny broke out of his reverie. Out of the memory. It had been so real. Even though it was dark here right now, and it had been broad daylight when the hermit told Loki to go away.

This was going to work.

“Yeah, we’re done. With the digging.”

“Cool,” said Wheeler. “Now I get to explain to my mom why I’m covered with sweat and sand.”

“Just go shower,” said Danny. “I’ll gate you right into the bathroom if you want.”

“Somebody will be in there,” said Wheeler. “Every hour of the day and night.”

“My house,” said Hal. “You can shower at my house.”

“My clothes?” asked Wheeler. “It’s not like any of yours will fit me.”

Without another word, Danny gated with them to Wheeler’s bedroom. “Pick out some clean clothes,” said Danny.

Wheeler did.

Danny gated with them to Hal’s house. “Shower here?” he asked.

“Fine,” said Wheeler.