Then she saw another airship not far behind the first one. She started murmuring questions to Worthy. “What’s that second one for, my piglet? Are we too many people for one airship? No,” she decided, counting. “We can fit in one, even if I go.” She didn’t recognize either airship.

How strange it was, to feel curiosity pricking inside her. How long had it been since Lovisa had felt curious about anything? How strange too when her curiosity began to outshout her wish to be invisible and left alone.

She started back to Nev’s. It was a longish walk, this path in the woods that only days ago had seemed arbitrary, not a path at all. As she neared the house, a voice sounded sharply ahead. It contained cheer, politeness, and something deeply familiar. If it weren’t impossible, Lovisa would think she recognized that voice.

Disbelieving, she began to run, holding Worthy close, trying not to joggle him, then stopping cold at the sight of a person in a gold scarf. Mari, in the yard, talking to Grandpa Saiet. He was tall, and solid, and bright-eyed, and really there. He saw her and spread out his arms, shouted his joy. His parents were beside him. And suddenly her brothers appeared around him, her brothers. Vikti, Erita, Viri, alive, well, laughing. They shouted her name, ran at her, swarmed her with their sharp little knees and elbows, their wriggling, happy bodies. She had them in her arms.

—

She had everything now. It didn’t matter if she stayed or went, it didn’t matter where she was or what she did.

And they didn’t seem angry with her. They weren’t blaming her for anything. Surely it was a trick? “Lovisa!” said Erita. “Is that a pig?”

“It’s a pig!” said Viri delightedly. “It’s wearing a diaper! Arni! Mara! Mari! Look! Pig! Diaper!”

Lovisa stood shakily, confused, as Mari and his parents joined them. She didn’t know how to see Mari again, after everything. When she looked up at him shyly, he hugged her. “Don’t squash my pig,” she said, which made him start laughing.

“Say hello to my parents,” he said.

Lovisa had known Mari’s parents all her life, but never like this. Never in a forest, with a pig, after she’d burned half of Flag Hill down and thrown an explosive egg and her father was a murderer.

“Lovisa Cavenda,” said Mara, formally, but kindly. Lovisa had always felt like a mouse, or a mushroom, or at any rate, a child, beside Mara Devret.

“We’re all hoping you’ll come back with us,” she said. “Won’t you tell us that you will?”

I don’t know, Lovisa wanted to say. I can’t decide yet. I’m scared.

Then a small, sticky hand tucked itself inside hers, and Lovisa had her answer.

PART FIVE

The Keeper