“Are you all right?” someone called, and two figures emerged from a nearby alley. The first was a very haggard-looking man. His pale face dripped with sweat. His shirt hung in tatters. And a bit of dried blood was crusted to the stubble on his cheek.

Beside him was a boy who looked no older than Barclay. He had curly blond hair and the lightest skin Barclay had ever seen, like pickled cabbage. His expression was equally sour, though much of it was hidden beneath the collar of his massive fur coat. A small flame danced above each of his fingertips. Then he closed his fist, and the fires snuffed out.

They’d just saved him, but Barclay was so startled that all he could manage was a shaky, “Wh-who are you?”

“Fellow Lore Keepers. Which makes us friends, so I hope,” the haggard man answered, smiling at them cheerily. “Fiery Skellets, what did this street ever do to you? I’ve never seen such a mess—not to mention droppings…. Oh, I’m only joking. It’s a good thing none of you look too worse for wear.”

Barclay begged to differ. Tadg’s sweater now sported several holes. Feathers and twigs stuck out of Viola’s hair buns. And Barclay’s cheek throbbed where a piece of debris had sliced him as it blew past.

Beside Barclay, Viola’s eyes widened. “But… you’re hurt.” Barclay followed her gaze to the man’s side. His torn shirt was soaked in blood.

“What, this?” The man chuckled and smeared away all the red. Though Barclay couldn’t spot a wound, he did see two scars along the man’s abdomen, like a pair of puncture marks. But they looked very old, far too old to be from today. “I have healing Lore. But it’s not much help in winning a battle, I’m afraid.”

“So you’re the one who saved Barclay,” Tadg said to the boy, whose hand was now stained with soot. “And caused the earthquake.”

“Earthquake? I didn’t feel anything of the sort.” The man cocked his head to the side, then patted the boy’s shoulder. “Yasha uses fire Lore. Outshining his teacher again… makes a habit of it.”

The boy—Yasha—waved his hand dismissively, as though such powerful Lore had been nothing to him. “It was lucky I spotted you, is all.”

“But what are you doing in the Elsewheres?” Barclay asked.

“We only just arrived,” the man answered. “We’re trying to find passage back to the Sea. Orla mentioned that her problems have only been getting worse since we left. Now I see she’s right! Imagine, a whole flock of Sleábeaks terrorizing an Elsie town!”

It seemed that whatever problems the Sea faced, the High Keeper had summoned more help than Runa alone.

Before Barclay could ask what those problems were, Viola looked up at the dark sky. “The Sleábeaks are gone. We should find Runa.”