She faced Billos. “So we follow the books. As long as we agree to return the moment we find them. We’re not staying in this lost Paradise of yours, no matter where it is. We have an obligation to Johnis.”

Billos nodded slowly, but he didn’t look convinced. “Fine.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Karas said.

“Shut your hole!” Billos snapped. “We should leave you as well.”

Darsal felt defensive of the girl, a sentiment that surprised her some. “Easy, Billos. She’s my sister. Niece, to be more precise, but she likes to call me her sister.”

“Your niece? She’s a Scab.”

“And not long ago the Scabs and we were one,” Karas said. “Or did you forget your history lessons?”

He looked from one to the other, then turned away. “Bring your niece, if that’s who she really is, and bring your Scab dog; what do I care? Just keep them out of my way.”

He slid up onto the same chair Darsal had rescued him from.

“So we put on the helmets and the gloves?” Darsal asked, touching another chair. “Then what?”

“Then you speak a command. ‘Let’s go, you haggard beast.’ ”

“This contraption responds to being called a haggard beast?” Papa asked, warily approaching another seat.

“Shut up and lie down.” Billos grinned, then added, “Baby.”

“Baby?” Papa glared. “You think I respond to insults?”

“You’re acting crazy, Billos,” Darsal said. “We’re all under considerable stress; go easy!”

“Yes, sir. Baby.”

“Why do you call us that?”

He shrugged, then pulled on his helmet. Slipped on his gloves. Spoke into the cocoon over his head. “Let’s go, you haggard beast.”

The contraption named DELL began to hum, and the red lights around its crown brightened. The flat glass panel on the wall flickered and showed several lines.

Billos’s body immediately arched, then slowly relaxed.

Darsal glanced at Karas, who’d climbed into a seat, then at Papa. “Seems to have worked.”

“He’s still here,” Papa said.

“Do you have a better idea?”

The Scab grunted and pulled on his helmet.

Darsal’s world went dark inside the musty-smelling headpiece. She slipped her hands into the gloves on either side, pried her eyes for a view of something besides darkness, and, seeing nothing, spoke aloud.

“Let’s go, you haggard beast.”

Nothing happened that she could tell. Maybe her helmet was ruined. She tried again. “Let’s go, you haggard beast!”

Still nothing.

Darsal finally sat up, pulled her helmet off, and turned to the others. “What’s supposed . . .”

The others were gone. Darsal faced five empty seats. Alarmed, she scanned the room, but there was no sign of them. They’d made it out and left her?

The door . . .