“Ho, Johnis!” a man cried, walking by. He raised his fist in a salute. “Billos, Darsal, Silvie. Fine job. You can fight by my side anytime. Anytime, I say!”

Johnis dipped his head. “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, fierce warrior,” Gabil cried. “And don’t forget that I was there, too, putting the black beasts through this blender called my feet!”

“Gabil . . .” Michal started but then gave up.

The man walked off, grinning, showing no sign that he’d heard Gabil.

“They can’t hear you?” Silvie asked.

“Or see us,” Michal said. “You’re the only four who can. We’ve always been around. One of these days we’ll show you our village.”

“You have villages? What about babies?”

“Of course. In the trees.” He pointed up.

A lone shriek pierced the air. A Shataiki cry.

“Them too?” Billos asked.

“Your eyes have been opened, lad,” Michal said. “Just because most people can’t see a reality doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. The legends are true. I hope I don’t have to remind you that you can’t speak of this to anyone. Not even Thomas.”

“Then what, pray tell, are we supposed to tell them?” Darsal asked. “You want us to lie?”

“Be creative. But you cannot speak of the Black Forests, of the Books of History, or for that matter, of your mission, which is all that matters now.”

“You said Black Forests,” Johnis said. “As in more than one. We burned the forest to the ground!”

“That you did. It was the smallest forest. It will soon be covered by sand as though it never existed. But there are five more, all much larger. Seven green forests and six black forests.”

“And each contains a book?”

“I wish it were that easy,” Michal said, sighing. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a clue where to send you next.”

Gabil sprang from the railing and settled on the table with the books. “Which is just fine—more time for training!”

“Honestly, Gabil,” Billos said, grinning, “your moves are made for flying bats. Unless you can teach us to fly, we’re at a loss.”

“Really? Well, maybe I can teach you to fly. It might cause a few bumps and bruises, though. And I can’t promise you that you will ever actually fly, but you must learn my karate. If that’s the only way . . .”

“Please forgive my friend’s eagerness,” Michal said. But this time he was smiling. “Now, I suggest you get your story straight and prepare to go after the next book. Gabil, we should get back. We still have wounded to care for.”

Gabil fluttered off. “Practice your moves!” he cried. “I’ll test you soon.”

“Oh,” Michal said, turning back. He withdrew something from his belt and set it on the railing. A silver ring. “I almost forgot this. We found it in the desert with a piece of cloth. It was placed there today.”