“They’ll already be there.”

“Just go. I’ll find you.”

The boy darted away. At Auntie’s house, Peter didn’t bother to knock; he stepped inside and moved straight to the bedroom. Auntie was asleep. He paused for a moment in the doorway, watching her breathe. The maps were where he’d left them, under the bed. He bent to retrieve them and slid the box into his pack.

“Peter?”

He froze. Auntie’s eyes were still closed. Her hands lay still at her sides.

“I was just lying here to rest some.”

“Auntie—”

“No time for goodbyes,” the old woman intoned. “You go on now, Peter. You’re in your own time now.”

By the time he reached the cutout, filaments of pink were rising from the east. Everyone was there. Alicia was climbing from under the trunk line, dusting herself off.

“Everybody ready?”

Footsteps behind them: Peter wheeled around, drawing his blade. But then he saw, stepping from the undergrowth, the figure of Mausami Patal. A cross was slung from one shoulder; she was wearing a pack.

“I tracked you from the Storehouse. We better hurry.”

“Maus—” Alicia began.

“Save your breath, Lish. I’m going.” Mausami focused her eyes on Peter. “Just tell me one thing,” she said. “Do you believe your brother’s dead?”

He felt as if he had been waiting for someone to ask him this very question. “No.”

“Neither do I.”

Her hand moved toward her belly, an unconscious gesture. Its meaning came upon him with such completeness it felt less like something discovered than remembered, as if he’d known all along.

“I never got the chance to tell him,” Mausami said. “I still want to.”

Peter turned to Alicia, who was studying the two of them with a look of exasperation.

“She comes.”

“Peter, this is not a good idea. Think about where we’re going.”

“Mausami’s blood now. It’s not a discussion.”

For a moment Alicia said nothing; she appeared to be at a loss for words.

“The hell with it,” she said finally. “We don’t have time to argue.”

Alicia went first, showing them the way. Sara followed, then Michael, then Caleb and Mausami, dropping into the tunnel one by one, leaving Peter to guard the rear.

Amy was the last. They’d found a jersey and a pair of gaps for her, and a pair of sandals. As she lowered herself through the hatch, her eyes found Peter’s with a sudden, beseeching force. Where are we going?