“The plan’s quite simple, really,” Mothball said, not acting bothered at all. “Right over yonder”—she pointed toward an ivy-covered copse of pine trees—“there’s some right dandy Windbikes that we can take to meet Master George’s spy, Annika. She’s been settin’ things up for months to get close to the Barrier Wand. We meet Annika, we get the Wand, we come back ’ere in thirty hours, and home we go.”

“Sounds too easy,” Sato said with a comical sneer.

“Sure it is, old chap, sure it is.” Mothball turned and walked toward the pine trees. “Got a better idea, let me know. But best be right quick about it.”

As Tick and the others followed their eight-foot-tall guide, Sato said from behind, “How do we know we can trust this spy? Maybe she works for Mistress Jane.”

“Find out soon enough, we will,” Mothball replied, not slowing at all.

“Quit your whining and come on,” Sofia snapped.

Tick cringed, wishing his friend would ease up on the poor kid. Tick didn’t like him either, but Sofia seemed way too harsh—who knew what Sato might do to retaliate.

Begrudgingly, Sato finally started walking. The sounds of footfalls crunching the thick undergrowth of the forest suddenly filled the air, echoing off the canopy of interwoven tree limbs.

Tick moved to catch up with Mothball, practically running to keep up with her pace. “I have a question.”

“Go on and ask it, then.” Mothball pushed an enormous branch out of the way that everyone else simply walked under.

“The alternate versions of ourselves in other worlds—does that mean there is one of me in every Reality?”

“That’s usually the case, it is. We call ’em Alterants. Strange how all that works—even though the Realities can grow in vastly different ways from each other, there seems to be a definite pattern when it comes to the people.”

“What do you mean?” Tick asked, stooping to avoid a huge chunk of moss that drooped over a thick limb like a giant beard.

“Even though a Reality may have different governments and cultures and climates and all that from another Reality, the general pedigree of people remains quite similar—downright spooky, it is.” A huge bird cawed from overhead, followed by the squeal of a small animal.

“So in your Reality—the . . .”

“The Fifth, it is.”

“Yeah, the Fifth. There’s a really tall version of me there? My Alterant? And he’s alive right now, with parents named Edgar and Lorena?”

“Chances are ya be right. Course, I’ve never met ’em, and never tried. Dangerous stuff, messin’ with Alterants.”

Sofia and Paul had been following closely and listening to every word while Sato hung back, only a couple of steps behind them. Though he acted indifferent to the conversation, Tick had a feeling Sato was intently paying attention.

“Why is it dangerous to mess with Alterants?” Sofia asked.