12. You do the honors?

We find more about Dust's plan

The lightposts in that hidden back-alley plaza glowed in a distant way through the black smoke, as if unable to reach us. I didn't need my eyes to see in the presence of Dust. I waited for Dust to answer the question–how were we to attack the urgan invader?

"Oliver buys a bag of goodies and stumbles around."

I crinkled my nose. "He's bait?"

"Oh, my, yes." Oliver pulled at his collar. "Please, do help, Watch Girl."

Unlike Dust or Collen, Oliver meant the title with respect. I scratched my chin. "You sure you're up for this?"


Dust raised his eyebrow and spoke to Oliver's ear. "They're his enemy as much as ours."

A hungry shepherd wasn't much better than a wolf, I reasoned. "Mack?" I whispered.

Mack still gave no answer.

"Of—course, Watch. While of course I would never personally trifle with…"

Dust made a threatening gesture, so subtle I should not have seen it.

"It's from 'The Basic Stratagems' so, in common Krolesh, yes, 'my' suggestion."

After Dust demanded it, I imagined. I raised my eyebrows at Mack.

"Don't like it either." Mack sighed. "But a man makes his own decisions. Just like you."

"Listen to Bob there."He nodded then to his own imaginary friend. "Much smarter than Kiele. We should set the two up."

I glared at Dust. "Then?"

Collen puffed up and swished his table leg. "I bring the hammer down on them. Chase em right to you."

"You have your table leg to stand on." I rolled my eyes. "Lucky if he brains you with it."

"We value your experience with urgans, you know that.." Dust put his hand on my shoulder in that way that silences people. "But, trust me. We've planned for everything. It's going to be…"

As Dust paused, all eyes locked onto him.

Slowly, he finished, "Glorious."

Mack whispered in my ear. "Ambushes can do anything but 'be glorious.' Are you sure the urgan's the only one who comes out losing in this plan?"

Since imaginary characters do what we decide, I tried again to imagine Mack agreeing with Dust. No matter what I did, I could not control these imaginary ghosts or make them seem less real. But—real or imaginary— I didn't have to listen, any more than I did when the real Mack told me things. I waved him away, running the battle through my imagination like Aunt Myrrha taught.

In my plan, Collen rises above want-to thug and heroically engages the gigantic, pig-faced bandit, who turns his back on us. Dust and I ambush the massive beast from behind. Dust tries whatever back-alley stratagem he has in mind. When it fails, the boy ducks death and scrambles out.

I stand toe to toe with the beast, covering their escape. I hold on for the precious boot-clicks it takes for them to get out of range. Everything clicked. For the first time since walking into the night, something felt right. I smiled.

The faces of the three boys glowed in the fires of my confidence.

They thought my faith born of victory, but failure had this covered. Within the hour, I would deliver vengeance upon a deserving urgan or join Mack and Myrrha–possibly both. Either way, fortune smiled upon me. It was time for me to smirk knowingly.

Collen and Dust smiled and bumped fists.

"Sounds like a plan." Smart as Dust might be, no city dweller could buy a hint of the warrior tradition Mack and Myrrha had drilled into my bones. "Be sure not to get hurt when the games begin."

Dust squinted at me and smiled at the boys. "Told you she'd stand up. Now, we march." He turned his back on me.

Neither of us showed all our cards, though Dust always had his up his sleeve. I wasn't like that before today. Dust's presence had bent me the way Mack's had, or Ker's, or even Korog's. Old Man Wolf knew better than I dared admit. I was not right, not normal. How could I know myself if the bend of my spine changed from scene to scene?

At that moment, I allowed that to be just one of the cards in my hand, right beside the tragedy of Mack and Myrrha. Win, lose or die, I needed to play to the end.