After dinner, I'd found myself walking along the streets of Erathik with Errod. Grunkle had hurried off to his room with only mumbled thanks to the Patriarch, Katrin vanished with Lute, Calliope vanished... gods knew where... and Matlyn was off sending a message to her brother Orick about the deal the Primarch had offered.

Errod reached out and hooked one of his fingers around mine as we walked, which is how I knew he was upset. "Well," he said, "if things go well that will be Katrin's mother-in-law."

I managed to avoid laughing beyond a snicker. "Yup. I mean... she seems pretty cool for the most part. Shit just got... intense... at the end. Do you think the relaxed chatty stuff was entirely fake, or was she mostly genuine but then switched gears to get some business done?"

He sighed. "Could be either. Could be that the scary part was also not real, or... real but not genuine. She could have been putting on an intimidating face for some other purpose, maybe to make sure Grunkle himself didn't try anything. Or to... I don't know, to scare Katrin? If she maybe doesn't approve? I don't think that's it, though."

"Yeah, I guess that's the main thing. We can't tell. I met her before, you know. The Primarch? I met her in the old timeline. She visited the place where the task force worked out of sometimes, and she was there when I was pushing to go after Ulren in addition to Halenvar. It's maybe the first thing I clearly remembered from that timeline. She pushed for Hammersmith to let me give it a shot, so she gets some credit there at least."

"It's the same problem as with Jeort," Errod said, "where I wish we'd just killed the Behemoth in combat. Now we should probably execute him, but things are complicated. And the solution that the Primarch has forced on us doesn't feel right either; if he's conscious in there, it's torture. Either he can be rehabilitated and we should do that, or he can't and we should execute him. Leaving him alive and imprisoned in his own body is awful, and if that really is how this works... well then, Grunkle is fully evil."

We kept walking for a moment, but I had to break the silence and ask the obvious question. "Did you think he wasn't evil? Like... what did you think was happening? With the body he had before, that woman, even if she'd volunteered it would have been because he manipulated her."

Errod sighed. "The short answer is that I'm an idiot. I asked him about it, right after we all escaped, and he... well, he told me some very comforting things that I've been increasingly skeptical of. I think I wanted to believe it could be okay, because when I die I'm going to be in this glove forever. And I like to imagine that I'll be... happy."

His left hand reached up to pat his right shoulder.

"Well," I said, "what do you want to do about it?"

"The Primarch has taken care of the Behemoth, in the long term, although I do want to find out if he's still aware inside there. That might change things, although if Grunkle says the Behemoth is dead or completely suppressed and unaware I can't imagine how we would know if he was telling the truth. We can't just kill him, not right now anyway. I think he really does know something about how to get where we're going, that's probably why he's with us."

I stopped dead, Errod's hand pulling free from mine as he took a step longer to come to a halt. "What do you mean?"

"Well... I assume practically everything is being manipulated by fate right now, towards whatever end. We've already talked about how this whole job is suspiciously similar to what we did with the Duminere in some ways, and..."

I sighed and pushed past him before he could finish. "Right. That. Yeah, okay, I did know that - I guess I just hadn't thought about Grunkle's part in things. Fucking fate. I don't want to be steered around, I want to have free will."

Errod chuckled. "Or at least the illusion of it, like everyone else."

That was a fair point. It's not like I was the only one being fucked with by fate. "Ugh, now I'm back to wanting to skip this whole thing, just to spite fate."

He shook his head, putting an arm around me as we continued on past some shops. "No, because until we have a better plan - or a better idea of what fate really wants - it's just as likely that fate wants to save the world. You said it yourself, fate has all sorts of things it's trying to accomplish. How can it do any of them if the world ends? If you blindly charge off in your own direction, we could make things worse."

A memory of a vision flashed to the front of my mind. Running away from strange beings, and the floor cracking open as I stepped on it. Every step further away was just more damage, because I hadn't been able to tell how fragile it all was, or how carefully the beings had been stepping where there were supports beneath the floor.

In my memory palace, I created statues of the two beings - one of them had already basically been a statue, with some cogs slipped in like hasty steampunk cosplay. The other was an androgynous humanoid creature, faceless and with too many arms, that wanted me to... follow endless Ikea instructions? That was ridiculous, and it probably didn't mean anything. But... I'd seen it while using Yesrin's Loom, and Katrin thought that part of the vision had been a literal god, so... eh.

"That's fair," I said to Errod, "but it's not like I can sit back and just do what fate tells me, either. I guess the trick is knowing when to push back against fate and when to go with it. What we can't do is argue about it or waffle back and forth; I mean, you were just talking about Jeort, while we tried to decide what to do with him someone came in and just fucking did it."

He nodded. "I hesitated, with Jeort. He was a bad person, and our enemy, and we had no way to keep him imprisoned. I should have been decisive, and just done what needed to be done. Instead, I sat there worrying until someone else took care of it; if that person had freed him instead, I would have been responsible for whatever else Jeort did. I don't like killing people, but in the heat of combat I've done it so many times already. I need to be able to recognize that, if redemption isn't possible, death may be necessary. We've repeatedly found ourselves in places with no laws, no prisons, and no judgement but our own. I don't have to like it - that's the point of duty, that you do it regardless."

"Errod, you are both mature and badass. Sadly, it doesn't help with fate in general or with Grunkle specifically. Actually, I feel like our current oaths with Mama Carnage - permissive as they are - won't allow us to execute Grunkle unless he tries something new."

"And for fate, well... as soon as we return from Earth we can visit the observatory and you can try to contact the gods. If that doesn't work, considering how fast your growth has been you'll hopefully be able to unlock some sort of fate reading ability."

"That, or this 'Heart of Brinkmar' thing will just solve all our problems. Whatever it is."

The streets were filled with life, in a way that I specifically loved about Erathik. People were laughing, swearing, pinching each other's asses for some reason - it clearly meant something, and it wasn't just harassment, but I couldn't figure it out - and above all they were singing. There was so little public music in the Free States and what I'd seen of the Empire. I leaned on Errod as we walked. "I miss music. When we get to Earth, I'm going to find some way to bring a bunch back with us. I'm not sure what the best way is." Maybe records?

Errod frowned. "You've said you want to go back for this 'Heart of Brinkmar' thing, and to take human Calliope home, and to see what's up with Matlyn and her sister and all that. And you've talked a lot about music, and heat sauce, and 'elastic waistbands'. But you haven't mentioned Bill. Not once."

"It's hot sauce, not heat sauce. It's a whole category of thing you guys somehow don't have - for all the great spices and sauces you've got somehow nothing seems to have capsaicin."

He sighed, and for a second I managed to convince myself it was because he didn't want to hear me rant about hot sauce again. But only for a second. Errod was clearly right, which was infuriating, but it felt like I couldn't explain my reasoning to him. There was a big jumble of thoughts and emotions there, and I wasn't sure that anything I could say would even be the truth, rather than some after the fact justification. Still, I couldn't just ignore him now that he'd brought it up.

"Bill... was a great guy, but the people that wiped my memory must have wiped his too. So maybe I'll look him up while we're there, just to see if he's... okay... but in the end, he's just a person I lived with for a year. I mean, what am I going to do? Explain to him that magic is real and his memories were altered, and then fuck off back here and leave him thinking he's crazy? Bill doesn't even like fictional magic. Or fiction in general. It's... I don't know, it's one of those things where it's strange and maybe a little fucked up but also there's nothing to do about it. So I'm just going to... not do anything. Bill can carry on with his life, and I'll come back here and live mine."

Errod was quiet for a moment. "I suppose that makes sense. I'm sorry, I won't bring it up again."

I told him it was fine, because that's what you said when people apologized. I could follow the script. But it had gotten me thinking about that shit, and so I headed back to the inn and went right to bed. While my body rested I had both minds in the memory palace, one working on trying to modify an oydirme based on what I'd learned from Betokat's somewhat muddled instructions and the other just staring at the creepy statues I'd made and trying to decide if they meant anything.

The door to the Long Haul Hotel - where I kept all my memories - kept swinging open on its own.

I knew it was my own fault, that my mind was wandering to Bill and whoever had wiped my memories. And it was, admittedly, something that I should make progress on before getting back to Earth. So after a little bit of denial I gave in and headed down the hallway. I felt like I'd been getting better at finding interesting memories, but only comparatively so. I could mostly avoid stuff where I was just sleeping, or eating, or using the bathroom - but that still left a lot of useless stuff I could stumble on.

Stolen novel; please report.

I'd dialed it in to the year-ish that I was with Bill, but even so a lot of the time I was at school or reading in my room or something. I also had that job at McDonald's for a while, though that didn't last long. I had to watch each memory for a few minutes to be really sure it was nothing I cared about, so it was easy to spend a whole night searching and learn very little about my missing time. If I'd been able to use divination on Earth memories I could have dug through my backpack, or Bill's mail, or... something. But no, it was just whatever I'd looked at during that memory.

Bill insisted on eating dinner together at an actual table every night. I saw a few of those, and a lot of them were kinda sad and awkward. He'd ask me how school was, and I would grunt or shrug or say it was fine. He'd joke about how that was a very teenage answer, and I'd half-heartedly say something back. 'Of course it's a very teenage answer, only teenagers go to high school', or 'I don't know how to make a lecture on algebra interesting' or the classic 'I said it was fine because it was fine, I don't know what you want'.

I didn't mind cooking with him, and I didn't mind it when we'd sit and watch a movie together - although his suggestions were universally awful - but something about sitting at a table eating dinner was hard. I think... it felt performative, like we were pretending we were a normal family. I don't know why that should bother me so much, especially since I'd had daydreams about finding a real family or long lost siblings or whatever, but it did.

The more I looked at them, the more of them I found - it was like my memories were slowly falling into categories. It gave me some hope that when I did eventually find what I was looking for I might get all of it in a row. For now, despite it not being very promising, I watched through a bunch of meals and only skipped ahead when it was clear that no news would be shared. I found a few meals from what had to be closer to the end, and it did seem more... comfortable. I'd complain about people at school, or just make up something blatantly fake and he'd play along. It was maybe a little immature for my age, but it felt good.

I finally got a really interesting one just as the sun was coming up in the real world. I found myself looking at a memory of us at the table, Bill serving up roast beef and mashed potatoes and roasted brussels sprouts. I was gazing off into space, looking tired, and my skin had red blotches all over - almost like a sunburn, but with it so patchy it was maybe some sort of rash. I wasn't in a normal school outfit either, it was an oversized red shirt that said METEOR CITY in big block letters and some sweatpants, so maybe I had stayed home sick from school.

We ate in silence for a minute, or more accurately Bill ate and I kept staring at the wall, and then Bill cleared his throat. "So..." he said, "how was school?"

There was something about the way he said it, something overly casual. I focused on him, as if I'd only now realized he was there, and then after a beat I started laughing uncontrollably. When I finally got myself under control, I dug in and took a big bite with a little of everything on it. With a little of the food still in my mouth, I said, "Well Bill... it was educational. I'll give it that."

My voice was scratchy, further evidence for me being sick, but I didn't feel like that was what was going on. I never had my full internal dialogue for the memories, and the vibes were inconsistent. In this memory, they weren't helping much at all.

Bill nodded and took a bite himself, clearly not in a rush, and then arched an eyebrow at me. "You know, they said they want to expel you for attacking a student."

"Fucking perfect," I said, taking another bite, "of course they do."

"Language," he admonished, but it felt more reflexive than an actual criticism. "You know, you put me in a really difficult position, Calliope. I've always made it clear I don't approve of violence. And there I was, listening to them tell me how you broke this girl's nose, and she comes in to the office with her parents and starts crying and talking about you and how you've ruined her life. And between her obviously fabricated story and the way she looked with two black eyes, all I could think was how impressed I was. That must have been a hell of a shot, kid."

I dropped my fork, but did my best to recover and play it cool. Was he complimenting me on smashing someone's face? "This feels like entrapment."

Bill chuckled, and took another bite. "No point in that, you already told me what happened. Anyway... they found your backpack which was of course ruined, and I asked some questions about it, and the girl with the broken nose didn't have satisfying answers. She'd gotten a little of the bleach on her shirt too, which didn't help her story. And based on the pictures I took of your face and arms, and me describing your voice sounding like you've smoked a few packs, and the state of that backpack..."

I took a deep, shuddering breath, and my eyes unfocused a little again. "Most of it missed me. It wasn't the bleach, it was the... there were other chemicals, and the fumes were really bad. I thought I was going to die. Zoey and her friends were blocking the door, and I... had to climb up into the ceiling. That's why I left my bag. And I was upset, and my clothes were ruined, and I just wanted to come home. I couldn't call you, my phone was in my bag and I was already... I wasn't going back there."

Bill's face was carefully blank, but there was something going on behind the mask. "I'm really sorry that happened to you," he said, but I could tell it wasn't what he was thinking. The tone was too flat, the words too careful. It was the same way I talked to someone at work when I knew that if I said what I really wanted to I'd get fired. "You're going to take the day off tomorrow," he continued, "and we'll... go out to lunch, and go shopping for a new backpack. We'll make a day of it. You're not expelled, that's the good news."

I stared at my mashed potatoes. "Is it, though? At least I'd get to not be at school."

"I had a long talk with them," he said, "about properly securing chemicals and otherwise having a safe learning environment. And I made sure the parents of the kid with the busted nose are aware of the difference between an admittedly ill-advised assault with a textbook and the much more serious attempted murder with bleach. I don't actually want this to result in legal action, because knowing our justice system the way I do I don't trust in the outcome; there's no guarantee you wouldn't be sitting there balancing pleading guilty and going to juvie until you're eighteen against getting tried as an adult and potentially being thrown in actual jail until you're twenty, while the other girl gets off with a warning. But they don't know that, and I'm going to make sure they have nightmares about how it could all go.

"The bad news is that you're going to be stuck in detention for a bit, because you really did do a number on that kid's face. She's in trouble too, not as much as she should be but if it's any consolation it might hit her a bit harder; you're used to it, you can do your time standing on your head. And I'll pack you some snacks and stuff, we'll make it as painless as possible. The other girl, well, I don't think she's used to being on the receiving end of things and she's not going to cope well with detention or with having her face all swollen and bruised. Probably she'll have consequences at home too, which you - this one time - will not have."

I took another bite of dinner. "Bill... did you happen to take a picture of Zoey? So I could see how bad her stupid face looks?"

He sighed again. "No, I couldn't find an excuse with her parents right there. But she had two black eyes, and this ridiculous brace on her nose that looked like a beak from some exotic bird. It was like some very badly made Skeksis cosplay. You don't get that reference, do you? It's from before your time, I suppose. An old movie called The Dark Crystal."

"Oh my god. Bill, talking about what sounds like a fantasy movie? Am I having a stroke? Is this a dream?"

"It's just some movie, with these Muppet guys in it."

"No. No, because you remembered the name of the... skeck... things. You could have made any reference in the world, and you did this one. Holy shit, Bill used to like fantasy!"

His smile slid away a little. "My mom really liked that movie. She died when I was just a kid. She would have liked you, you know that? From what I hear she was a troublemaker, just like you. I'm pretty sure there are still people in Ohio that flinch when they hear the name Jennifer Young. Her whole side of the family was a mess. The Youngs had an ongoing feud with another family, the Bartletts, and they would steal from each other and pour sugar in gas tanks and... all sorts of things."

"That sounds awesome, let's go to Ohio and do some crime!"

He shook his head, the spoil sport. "I've visited a couple times, for some funerals, but I don't really have a strong connection to either side of my family. And I'm trying pretty hard to steer you away from doing crime."

Bill was looking down at his plate, so he missed the expression on my face. Guilt. I could feel it even looking at the memory, though I wasn't remembering details. I'd... stolen something from Bill, or maybe something that was supposed to be Bill's - like an Amazon package off his porch. Not that exactly, though. "Bill... I... I know I fuck up a lot. And I don't want to. I want to be... I don't know, I want you to... to be right when you say I can do better. But I keep screwing things up, and sometimes I think it's harder when everything is okay. I don't know what's wrong with me."

And just like that he was around the table, standing next to my chair so he could hold my head against him and pet my hair. It felt nice. "Everyone messes up, kiddo. I do it all the time. I don't want to make it sound like it doesn't matter, or like you don't need to make things right, but the most important thing you can do is not give up just because you did something wrong. You still try again, over and over, until it becomes almost automatic. And it stinks, sometimes, because it can be hard. But everything worth doing is hard sometimes. And I'll be here, right here, no matter what. Just let me know what you need."

I almost told him. I could feel it. But instead, I finished eating and retreated to my room where I stared hard at my closet door. Was that where I'd stashed whatever I'd stolen? I opened the closet, closed it. Took a deep breath, closed my eyes, opened it again. I stared at that closet for a moment, and then finally closed the door again and started tidying up - not something I typically did. I threw out some trash, tossed some clothes in a hamper. There was something disgusting in one corner, some tiny mound of red and white that somehow both ripped and oozed when I tried to pick it up, like a cross between sun-deteriorated plastic and damp paper although it wasn't either of those things.

Giving up on the mystery blob, I laid down on the bed. Watching the memory, it was clear that I was going to fall asleep staring at the ceiling and so I finally stepped out and back to my body. It was morning, and time to get going on our journey. I grabbed all my things and did my morning check of the plant spot on my chest - the expansion had slowed to almost nothing, and it had continued to maintain its structure, so that was good. I double checked everything and headed down to grab some breakfast from a street vendor, then met up with the others.

We had moskar waiting for us, not the same as Shitheel but the type that I'd seen Hugh riding once before. They were a little larger, and rather than a flat bony plate on their heads they had a ridge that pointed forward like an axe. I watched Lute and Katrin make out in a shadowy corner, and Matlyn compulsively checking supplies, and Grunkle struggling to mount his moskar. Errod and human Calliope were looking at a map together. It was a good group.

Katrin got saddled last, and Lute escorted us to the gates. "No need to sneak out this time, yes?"

I smiled. "Yeah, thanks for the help with that escape last time." Might as well give credit where credit was due.

Lute looked confused. "I... had no part in that. I didn't even know about it until after the fact. I assumed it was your... sister... there, since the mask was described much like the one she wears at her belt. But how could you not know? It had to have been coordinated, when you turned yourself in."

Huh. "I never turned myself in. We just rode out of town in our wagons, and nobody stopped us."

Lute's brow furrowed further. "No. You... you handed yourself to the guards, and then a magic user in a wooden mask attacked and freed you. They locked down the gates, but could not find either of you anywhere."

Katrin, Errod, and I all shared some looks. If they'd locked down the exits it had to have been after we'd already passed through, meaning that someone impersonated me at the exact right time to cause a distraction and let us out. But... it couldn't have been human Calliope, not at that point. She'd still wanted to kill me, and she didn't have any friends. Also, she wouldn't have taken off her mask to pretend to be me, but if she'd been the one in the mask who had looked like me? None of it made sense.

The others had just kept riding, and Lute wouldn't be able to answer any questions anyway since he was clearly just as uninformed as we were, so after a final goodbye from Katrin we hurried to catch up to the rest of the party. Just another mystery to add to the pile.

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