“Mendel, you should hire Chandler,” Ángel said.

“Why?”

“Well, you don’t actually have to do what the DOR says, do you? You want to travel. The DOR wants to keep you here, but you could leave, right?”

“Wait until the protests stop,” said Victor.

“I mean, you have money of your own, don’t you?” persisted Ángel. “It’s not controlled by the government or anything?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Yes,” said Oberon, emerging, dusty, from inside the piano. “We have money.”

“Well, off you go, then. Tell the DOR to fuck off and hire Chandler to provide security and handle logistics, and go look at plants. I know Oberon would like to see some trees.”

“Ooh, you should go to Corkscrew Swamp,” said Marissa. “Over by Naples. Huge old cypress trees, and wild orchids. It’s very cool.”

“That sounds interesting.” Mendel turned to Chandler. “Do you want to do that? When could we leave?”

“Mendel,” said Chandler, “respectfully, Oberon was nearly murdered by one of my employees just a few days ago.”

“Chandler protected me for years,” said Oberon. “She foiled several assassination attempts. I am still alive because of her. And Ángel, of course.”

“I can’t guarantee your safety,” protested Chandler.

“I understand,” said Mendel. “But I’m not expected to live. No one thought Oberon would still be alive when I got here. I need to send back good data before I die, that’s all.”

“This is a suicide mission?” said Victor, incredulously.

“Not really,” said Mendel. “But we know we aren’t going back. We will be in your world for the rest of our lives. The information we discover is what’s important, not us.”

Victor looked appalled.

“They’re great adventurers,” said Ángel.

“I would like to go,” said Oberon. “I would like to see the trees.”

“If Oberon’s going, I’m going,” said Ángel. “And then we can go to Miami. I know some bands who would sell their grandmas for a chance to play for Oberon. Chandler, I hope you’re taking notes. Oberon has also been asked to teach a class on fae musicology at Colombia, so that would be another challenge.”

“I . . . I’ll look into it,” said Chandler, clearly dazed.

“You are a great adventurer too, Chandler,” said Oberon, resuming fiddling with the piano pegs. “So are all of you. Look at us. This has never happened before.”

Marissa grinned at Ángel, and he smiled back at her. “I wish I had my guitar.”

“I regret your guitar very much,” said Oberon, from the interior of the piano.

“What happened to your guitar?” asked Chandler. “The DOR is dying to know if Oberon attacked you with it or something.”

“Oh my God, no,” said Ángel. “No, it was my own fault.” He glanced unhappily at Oberon, remembering the fight they’d had.