Chương 123: After the Storm

Morning came quiet over Hearthroot. The sky had cleared, which somehow made the night feel stranger. Blue showed between thin scraps of cloud, and the sun touched everything the rain had left behind. Roofs dripped. Paths were slick. Water clung to leaves and ran from the ends in slow drops. Broken branches lay across the ground in too many places. Some were small enough for children to drag aside. Others would need axes and annoyed builders before the paths were clear again. No one had slept.

The village moved with the hush that followed disaster. Voices stayed low. Boots squelched through mud. People gathered in small clusters around damaged buildings, staring for a few heartbeats before getting to work. Children had been kept close to parents, though a few still peered around adult legs with wide eyes, trying to understand why yesterday's home had become a pile of wet timber and torn bedding. James stood before the longhouse where he had slept. Or where he had tried to sleep.

There was very little left that deserved the name. Half the roof had collapsed inward. One wall leaned outward at an angle that made his stomach clench. The doorway was gone entirely, torn free during the maelstrom and swallowed by the storm. Black scars marked the roof beams where lightning had struck again and again. Bedding lay soaked in muddy water. A broken stool jutted from a mound of thatch. Someone's cooking pot had been crushed flat beneath a fallen beam.

A child's carved wooden animal floated in a puddle near James's boot, its little antlers snapped off. The longhouse looked as though the storm had reached down and tried to dig him out by force. Gisela stood beside him, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her hair was still damp, braided back roughly after the night's chaos.

"It does look personal, my lord." James stared at a split roof beam that had landed exactly where his sleeping space had been.

"I was trying very hard not to think that." Lumen hovered near his shoulder.

"The maelstrom had no personal intent. It reacted to atmospheric imbalance, mana saturation, and unstable flow patterns." James gave the familiar a flat look anyway.

"Thank you, Lumen, once again your contribution to the conversation is unparalleled." The familiar glowed with pride missing the obvious sarcasm. James rubbed both hands over his face, careful with his arms. Irla's healing had repaired the worst burns, but the skin remained tender, especially around the wrists. Thin pale lines still traced where lightning backlash had branched beneath his skin.

They would fade, Irla had insisted, though she had also made a face suggesting she would prefer he stop using himself as a weather rod. He could still feel the storm in memory. The barrier buckling. The gnome being dragged toward the door. Irla's frightened eyes. Varn's hammer in his fist. The first longhouse shaking apart. The pain in his arms as lightning hit over and over. Wicksnap dancing beneath Heartroot like a madman invited to a wedding no one else could see. And the jar.

His hand drifted to the pouch at his belt. Inside it sat the Rootbound Chest, shrunk down to a pebble-sized bead of living wood and leaf-veined magic. The fairies' gift had become one of the most precious things he owned. It could change size, hold far more than it should, and now it contained the fairy jar with the Tempest Essence sealed inside. James had placed the jar there the moment he had recovered enough to trust his hands.

Then he had tucked the tiny chest into the safest pouch on his belt and tied the cord twice. Because Wicksnap had already asked to see "the naughty air spirit" six times before breakfast.

"My lord?" James lowered his hand from the pouch and turned. Merrit approached with Trell, Alder, Pella, Thalen, Kharum, and two dwarven builders behind him. All of them looked tired. Mud stained their boots. Rain-dark patches marked their clothing. Merrit had a folded slate under one arm and the expression of a man who had spent the last hour counting problems and discovering that numbers could be cruel.

"We have the first damage list," Merrit said. James nodded.

"Tell me." Merrit glanced once toward the ruined longhouse.

"This one is almost a total rebuild. Some timber can be salvaged, but the roof and west wall are done. The first longhouse is nearly as bad. Roof sagged, wall cracked, several supports split. We can make it safe enough to pull belongings out, but I would not house anyone there until we rebuild properly." Alder took over.

"Two other human longhouses need lighter repairs. Roof edges mostly. Shutters. Some cracked braces. One hearth vent loosened. Two elven longhouses have water damage where the wind forced rain under the eaves, but their frames held better." Thalen's face was calm, though his hands were wrapped in bandages from handling splintered wood.

"The living curves helped. They flexed more than the straight human variant. Still, several roof ribs need coaxing back into shape." Pella spat into the mud.

"Coaxing means hours of careful work while everyone pretends wood is reasonable."

"Wood is reasonable," Thalen said. Pella looked at him.

"You are elven. Of course you would think that." The exchange should have made James smile more than it did.

"What about the stoneheart buildings?" he asked. Kharum's beard twitched with grim pride.

"They held. The stoneheart longhouses are wet around the thresholds and annoyed in spirit, perhaps, but sound. The walls look freshly washed. The Hearth Hall is solid. Lorekeeper's Hall as well. Emberforge held. Stoneheart does not mind being shouted at by clouds."

"Good," James said quietly. He looked toward the pale walls encircling Hearthroot. The blue-veined stone shone in the morning, rainwater running down its faces in clean lines. The wall had taken lightning strikes. He had seen them. Yet from where he stood, it looked ready to stand through another night. That contrast settled over everyone. The first longhouses had been built when they were desperate. Before stoneheart. Before proper crews. Before Merrit's class. Before Thalen's improved techniques.

Before Hearthroot had become something that could survive a magical hurricane and complain about the repairs afterward. The maelstrom had shown them every weak point. James hated how useful that was.

"Every other project stops," he said. Merrit nodded as if he had expected it. James began counting on his fingers.

"Make damaged longhouses safe. Move displaced residents into stoneheart longhouses, Hearth Hall, and any repaired spaces. Roof repairs before anything else. Salvage belongings and usable wood. Protect food stores. Inspect the fields. Rebuild storage. After that, we reassess every housing standard in the village." Trell was already nodding.

"I can take salvage crews."

"Alder, coordinate temporary housing." Alder's face tightened with the strain of it, but he nodded.

"I will speak to Marla and Irla. Families first. Injured and children near Hearth Hall."

"Merrit, you and Kharum inspect the damaged structures and tell me which are repairable and which need to be torn down." Merrit looked at the ruined longhouse again.

"Some answers will hurt."

"Better answers than falling roofs." Pella lifted one hand.

"I will take braces and emergency supports. Anyone touching a cracked beam without permission gets smacked with a measuring rod."

"Approved," James said. Thalen inclined his head.

"I will keep a small crew on the elven roofs. We can repair those quickly if the wood answers."

"Good." They scattered. The quiet did not last long after that. Hearthroot became motion. Builders moved through mud with ropes, braces, saws, axes, and crowbars. Dwarves shouldered heavy beams that would have taken three humans to drag. Elves climbed carefully onto rooflines, cutting away broken thatch and easing strained supports back into place.

Gnomes crawled into spaces no one else could reach, emerging with rescued bundles, dented cups, lost shoes, tools, and once a very angry sky-quill that no one could explain. Mira's weavers gathered soaked bedding and clothing into piles for washing, drying, and repair. Harlon and his leatherworkers spread damp straps, pouches, belts, and tool rolls beneath the workshop awning. Irla moved slowly through the village, checking burns and bruises despite the exhaustion that still shadowed her face.

Aelthirra helped her, gold life-magic soft around her hands, with Finni's mana wolf trailing close behind like a large, worried shadow. James worked wherever someone needed an extra pair of hands. He lifted. He held beams while Pella swore at them. He helped carry bedding from the ruin of his own longhouse. He knelt in the mud to retrieve a child's carved animal and handed it to the little boy who had been crying quietly beside his mother. The boy held the broken toy like treasure.

"Antlers can be fixed," James said. The boy sniffed.

"Storm ate them."

"Then we will make better ones. Stronger antlers." The boy considered this with great seriousness, then nodded. James rose and nearly stepped on Wicksnap. The shaman had appeared beside him without warning, as usual. His beard had dried into a spectacular sideways fan, stiff in places where mud had hardened. His robes were damp, patched, and somehow more suspicious than before. His eyes shone with the satisfaction of a man who had survived a disaster and gained social leverage.

"Now," Wicksnap said, "we see the naughty air spirit." James closed his eyes.

"No." Wicksnap leaned closer.

"Just a peek."

"No."

"A father must know if the storm-child sulks." James opened his eyes and glared.

"You are not its father."

"I yelled at it during birth." Lumen drifted lower, tone dry.

"The Tempest Essence should remain sealed until construction of the Stormbreath Spire begins, or until a controlled containment environment exists." James pointed at Lumen.

"Exactly." Wicksnap narrowed his eyes.

"The shiny liar wants the jar."

"The shiny liar wants the village to continue existing."

"The village can survive." James stepped around him.

"Go help with repairs." Wicksnap followed.

"Repairs are for things that had bad conversations with wind."

"Then go apologize to the roofs on our behalf." The shaman brightened.

"That may help." James watched him scamper toward a damaged roof and begin scolding a snapped rafter for poor sky manners.

"Did I just assign Wicksnap to structural diplomacy?" James asked. Lumen pulsed faintly.

"You did."

"Should I stop him?"

"Given the rafter is already broken, the risk is limited." James sighed and kept working. By midmorning, the damage to the storage area became impossible to ignore. The second storage shed, the one Alder had only just started building, was gone, torn clean from its place. The foundation marks remained in the mud, along with scattered planks, a twisted corner frame, and enough thatch to suggest the storm had taken the partially built roof apart piece by piece and thrown it across three different paths.

Alder stood before it with both hands on his hips, face blank. Trell came up beside him, looked at the wreckage, and said, "It was coming along nicely." Alder gave him a slow look. Trell nodded.

"Too soon." James left them there and went to the first storage shed. That hurt worse. The first storage shed had once felt impossibly full. Skystalk grain, fruits, strange vegetables, smoked meat, herbs, fiber bundles, dried roots, jars of preserved goods, baskets of nuts, cured strips, cooking supplies, reserve tools, everything that made winter feel less like a mouth waiting to close around them. Now one side had been torn open. The roof had held in places and failed in others.

Rainwater had found every weakness. Mud had washed across the floor near the broken wall. Some baskets of skystalk grain were soaked through. A few fruit baskets had tipped and crushed, leaking sweet juice into straw. Several bundles of dried herbs had gone limp and dark. A shelf of preserved vegetables had collapsed, shattering jars and spilling brine, roots, and sticky syrup across the floor. Some smoked meats had survived where they hung high and deep inside. Others were damp enough to need immediate attention.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. People gathered around the door in silence. Winter had stood in every conversation for days now, quietly waiting. The sight of damaged stores gave that waiting a new meaning. Marla arrived like a general entering a battlefield. She took one look inside and began issuing orders.

"You, baskets. Good grain, damp grain, ruined grain. Three piles. Damp grain goes near controlled hearths, watched every breath. If it smells wrong, it goes to feed, not people. You two, fruit mash. Bruised fruit becomes sauce, syrup, or stew today. No staring at it like grief makes it sweeter. Harlon, get those meat hooks down. Anything damp gets re-smoked or cooked by sunset. Irla, keep the children out of the broken jars. Someone sweep pottery shards before a fool kneels in them."

A small gnome child stepped into the sticky patch and froze. Marla turned. The child slowly lifted one foot, syrup stringing from the sole. Marla pointed toward the door.

"Out." The child fled. James stepped beside her.

"How bad?" Marla's mouth thinned.

"Bad enough to make people nervous. Not bad enough to starve if we stop standing around and work."

"That is the official assessment?"

"It is the useful one." He nodded. Marla glanced at him.

"You look like a man who lost a fight with a bonfire."

"Jar full of murder weather."

"I heard."

"Of course you did."

"I hear everything that creates work for me." That sounded true enough to be its own system notification. The field report arrived shortly after. Elira and Ollen came from the farmlands outside the plateau, both muddy to the knees. Elira's face held the pale, furious grief of someone who had watched living things harmed and wanted to blame someone with a body. Ollen looked grim, his hands stained dark from wet soil.

James met them near the storage shed because moving seemed pointless when every problem was already coming to him. Elira did not waste time.

"The fields were hit hard." A murmur passed through the people nearby.

"How hard?" James asked.

"Some rows flattened by wind and rain. Some scorched where lightning struck. Drainage overflowed in the lower sections. Young plants ripped out entirely near the eastern edge. The root beds held better, but several fruiting plants may rot if the water stays." Ollen wiped mud from his jaw with the back of his hand.

"We can salvage part of it. We need people today. Dig drainage cuts. Lift what can be lifted. Harvest damaged crops before they spoil. Replant where it makes sense, though this late in the season gives us fewer options." James heard the whispers start. Food stores damaged. Fields damaged. Winter close. He felt the fear ripple through the gathered villagers. It was quieter than last night's terror, but deeper in some ways. Lightning and wind were immediate. Food loss crawled forward into every future morning.

James stepped onto a low block near the shed entrance.

"Listen," he said. People turned. He waited until the murmurs faded enough for his voice to carry.

"We lost food. We lost part of the fields. I am not going to pretend that is small. But we did not lose everything. We have hunters. We have stonebelly hog meat. We have aether fawn milk. We have gardens. We have foragers. We have Marla, which may be the most terrifying resource in this village." A few people laughed weakly. Marla pointed a knife at him.

"Careful." James continued.

"We have the Hearth Hall, the Emberforge, the Wellspring, the Heartroot, and people who moved through a maelstrom last night without falling apart. We will salvage what can be salvaged. We will repair storage properly. We will protect what remains. We will improve the fields and drainage. We will make better systems because the storm showed us where we were weak." He looked over the crowd, muddy, exhausted, frightened, and still standing.

"We are going to get through winter." Some people breathed easier. Not all. James did not blame them. Inside, his list of urgent needs grew so long it felt like punishment. Work resumed. Through it all, James kept noticing Heartroot. The tree looked brighter. Suspiciously brighter. The storm had battered the entire valley, but Heartroot stood radiant in the morning sun. Its white bark looked freshly washed, yet the glow beneath it had deepened. Golden veins shone faintly even in daylight.

The leaves held a rich luster, as if each had been polished from within. Mana fireflies lingered among the branches long past dawn, tucked beneath leaves like sleepy lanterns refusing to go out. The birth chambers pulsed softly. Dewpip and the other fairy children remained beneath the branches more often than not, calmer than yesterday but watchful. Petalwing hovered near the chamber she had named Soft-Under-Branch and whispered to it. Buzzydew patrolled the roots with fierce importance.

Piri tried to teach one of the chambers a song and declared the unborn fairies had excellent taste when it did not object. James placed one hand briefly against Heartroot's trunk as he passed. Maerelith felt closer. Still within the tree. But near the surface now, like someone approaching from the far side of a door.

"The maelstrom fed it," Lumen said quietly. James looked up.

"The Heartroot?"

"And the Wellspring. Once the storm-current was contained, remaining atmospheric mana dispersed rapidly. The anchors absorbed what they could. Heartroot appears to have integrated a significant amount."

"Should I be worried?" Lumen's light dipped.

"A little. Also hopeful, I think." James sighed.

"Those are very different feelings."

"Heartroot has been giving you both for a while." By midday, James was inside the damaged storage shed, carrying bundles of damp herbs out into the open for sorting, when the first notification appeared. It came so quietly that at first he thought it was a delayed ache from overusing mana. Then the words unfolded in his vision. Research Completed: Living Plantcraft — Tier I Settlement Knowledge Integrated.

Improved shared understanding: gentle pruning, mana-safe grafting, root health observation, living trellis formation, early grove care. Tier II research options now available. James stopped with a bundle of wet mint and grey-green leaves in his arms.

"Oh." Before he could say anything else, another notification appeared. Research Completed: Blightward Studies — Tier I Settlement Knowledge Integrated. Improved shared understanding: early corruption signs, safe sample handling, quarantine circles, cleansing burn protocols, rootway containment. Tier II research options now available. James straightened slowly. A third notification arrived. Research Completed: Pollinator Accord — Tier I Settlement Knowledge Integrated.

Improved shared understanding: bee queen care, mana pollen collection, pollinator-friendly crops, swarm-calming songs, garden yield support. Tier II research options now available. Then another. Research Completed: Resonant Communication — Tier I Settlement Knowledge Integrated. Improved shared understanding: tone coding, rootline vibrations, Harmony Bell calibration, distance signal testing, emergency chime protocols. Tier II research options now available.

James stared at the broken wall of the storage shed as if it might explain itself. The fifth came. Research Completed: Living Silkcraft — Tier I Settlement Knowledge Integrated. Improved shared understanding: gentle fiber harvesting, self-repairing thread theory, flexible cloth weave, wing wrap patterns, light armor-cloth foundations. Tier II research options now available.

"Mira is going to lose her mind," James muttered. The sixth notification opened. Research Completed: Forging Legacy — Tier I Settlement Knowledge Integrated. Improved shared understanding: reliable tool production, basic metal durability, ore refinement routines, interchangeable tool parts, workshop-to-forge supply flow. Tier II research options now available. James's grip tightened around the herbs.

"I am going to have two very happy smiths." The seventh arrived. Research Completed: Scout's Horizon — Tier I Settlement Knowledge Integrated. Improved shared understanding: trailblazing paths, watchtower network principles, trap detection basics, resource survey marking, local vigilance routines. Tier II research options now available.

"Kerrin and Bren too," he said. The eighth notification came last, glowing faintly with a different hue. Research Completed: Alchemy Ascendancy — Tier I Settlement Knowledge Integrated. Improved shared understanding: essence extraction, basic vitality draught theory, stamina brew principles, antidote serum foundations, potion rationing and field-use safety. Tier II research options now available.

James stood in a damaged storage shed with ruined herbs in his arms and felt something almost hysterical bubble in his chest. Eight research trees. All Tier I completed. All at once. He lowered the herbs into the correct pile with exaggerated care. Then the new notifications began.

New Research Tree Available: Stoneheart Infrastructure — Tier I Unlocked through completed stoneheart wall fortification, quarry development, glowstone experimentation, stoneheart shelter performance, and repeated settlement use of mana-dense masonry. Research Topics Available: Stoneheart Grading, Mana-Conductive Masonry, Glowstone Fixtures, Heavy Transport Paths, Stoneheart Standards. James's eyes widened.

New Research Tree Available: Fishing & Rivercraft — Tier I Unlocked through Wellspring-fed river development, winter food pressure, settlement expansion toward river paths, and increased need for reliable secondary food sources. Research Topics Available: Woven Fish Traps, Net-Mending, Riverbank Paths, River Signs, Smoke-Dried Catch.

"That," James whispered, "we need." New Research Tree Available: Mining Basics — Tier I Unlocked through active quarry use, old mine access, ore demand, stoneheart extraction, and increased need for safe underground work routines. Research Topics Available: Support Timbering, Ore Sorting, Stone Cart Paths, Mine Safety Routine, Reliable Minework. Iron. Gatehouses. Towers. Tools. His list shifted again.

New Research Tree Available: Militia Drills — Tier I Unlocked through repeated settlement attacks, Warden field performance, wall completion, defensive gear integration, and emerging village-wide combat doctrine. Research Topics Available: Spear Line, Shield Rotation, Alarm Response, Wall Fighting, Buddy Pairs. Capstone: Hearthguard Drill. Rogan would like that. He would pretend to dislike the wording first.

New Research Tree Available: Trapcraft — Tier I Unlocked through hunting practice, goblin threat patterns, patrol experience, wilderness defense needs, and settlement perimeter expansion. Research Topics Available: Snare Lines, Trip Alarms, Deadfall Basics, Pit Marking, Scent Masking. Capstone: Perimeter Trap Discipline. James stood very still. Then he turned and walked out of the shed. Marla noticed his expression immediately.

"What happened?"

"Research," James said. Her eyes narrowed.

"Why do you look like someone handed you a snake?" He blinked at her.

"Because the snake is useful." Marla stared. James rubbed a hand over his face.

"It's good news. I think. Big, good news." He handed off his work and headed straight for the Lorekeeper's Hall. The building had escaped the maelstrom almost untouched. Rainwater still dripped from its eaves, and the ground around it had turned soft, but the structure itself stood calm and faintly luminous. Inside, the air smelled of damp paper, crystal warmth, ink, and the strange clean scent that always lingered after mana had moved heavily through the hall.

Orvin looked like a man who had not slept and had no intention of admitting that sleep existed. He stood near the central crystal with Eiranthil, Roland, and the gnome researcher from the storm. Several smaller crystals still hummed softly along the walls. The great central crystal glowed with a steadier light than it had during the maelstrom, calmer now, though diagrams still flickered within its depths. James entered without preamble and immediately stopped. The research hall was already in motion.

Eight crystals sat on the central table, each one glowing with a full, steady light. Living green shimmered in one. A darker, mossy radiance pulsed in another. Gold flecks moved like tiny bees through the Pollinator Accord crystal, while the Resonant Communication crystal gave off faint ripples of soundless vibration. The Living Silkcraft crystal shone with pearly threads of light, and Forging Legacy burned low and orange, like banked coals beneath glass.

Scout's Horizon held a pale blue gleam that kept drifting toward the edges, while Alchemy Ascendancy swirled with layered colors James's tired brain immediately decided were probably expensive. Orvin stood over them with both hands braced on the table, looking like a man trying very hard to remain dignified while history happened directly in front of his nose. The gnome researcher was making a high, delighted noise into both palms.

Eiranthil had already begun writing, his hand moving in smooth, precise strokes across a slate.

"You already know," James said. Orvin looked up.

"Of course we know." James blinked.

"Right. Notifications."

"Notifications," Orvin agreed. He gestured toward the crystals.

"And the crystals reached full saturation nearly at the same time. Living Plantcraft completed first, followed by Blightward Studies, Pollinator Accord, Resonant Communication, Living Silkcraft, Forging Legacy, Scout's Horizon, and Alchemy Ascendancy." The gnome researcher lowered his hands just enough to whisper, "All eight. All eight. I watched Alchemy Ascendancy finish. It made a little spiral at the end."

"It did not make a little spiral," Orvin said.

"It absolutely made a little spiral." Eiranthil, without looking up from his notes, said, "It made a spiral." Orvin closed his eyes for one long breath.

"Fine. It made a spiral." James looked from the glowing crystals to the researchers and felt his own stunned grin beginning to form.

"So I came here to tell you something you already knew."

"You came here," Orvin said, gathering one of his papers, "because completion is only the first problem." James's grin faltered.

"I hate how often that sentence is true." Orvin slid the paper toward him.

"The completed Tier I trees have already opened derivative paths. We need to decide which lines receive crystals next, which departments gain priority, and which unlocks can be applied immediately without disrupting the village." The gnome researcher bounced once on his heels.

"Also we need more shelves." James stared at him.

"For the crystals," the gnome added, very seriously.

"And possibly for my notes. And possibly for the emergency spiral record."

"There will be no emergency spiral record," Orvin said. Eiranthil calmly turned his paper around. At the top, in elegant script, he had written: Observed Spiral Event. Alchemy Ascendancy Completion. James covered his mouth with one hand. Orvin looked betrayed by scholarship itself. Then James asked the question that had been bugging him.

"How did this happen?" Orvin looked up, eyes bright despite the shadows beneath them.

"The Hall entered an accelerated resonance state during the maelstrom. The crystals drew patterns from everything happening across the settlement. Storm pressure, Heartroot's response, Wellspring absorption, fairy grove resonance, emergency evacuation, smithing production records, patrol reports, alchemical field use, even your glowstones. The research trees were already seeded. The storm flooded the system with mana and forced the patterns into completion." The gnome researcher raised one finger.

"The crystals did research on their own." Orvin did not look at him.

"The crystals processed seeded knowledge under extreme mana saturation." James leaned against the nearest chair because suddenly standing felt like a great deal of work.

"There are new trees too." James listed them. Stoneheart Infrastructure. Fishing & Rivercraft. Mining Basics. Militia Drills. Trapcraft. The gnome researcher clutched his own face with both hands. Eiranthil smiled faintly.

"A practical set." Orvin closed his eyes for a long moment.

"Of course it is. The Hall did not create knowledge from nothing, my lord. It gathered what the village has already been doing and forced it into order. Smiths, scouts, alchemists, wardens, builders, miners, and trappers. The storm gave power. Our people gave pattern." James let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

"Wonderful. We survived a magical hurricane and invented a curriculum." Lumen drifted beside him.

"That is one of civilization's more honest summaries." James glanced at Orvin.

"Can we research them immediately?"

"In theory, yes. In practice, we must choose. The Hall can hold many trees, but researchers cannot split their minds into five pieces without becoming useless or poets." Eiranthil's mouth twitched. The gnome looked offended.

"I could become a useful poet." Orvin ignored him.

"Stoneheart Infrastructure should be prioritized because of repairs, gatehouses, towers, and the quarry. Food pressure argues for Fishing & Rivercraft. Mining Basics supports iron and stoneheart. Militia Drills formalizes what Rogan has already begun. Trapcraft can support patrols and hunters. And let's not forget your obsession with Mana Economy..."

"So all of them are urgent."

"Yes." James covered his face. The Lorekeeper's Hall doors opened behind him. A wet, wild head poked in. Wicksnap.

"The jar?" James's hand went instantly to his belt pouch.

"No." Wicksnap narrowed his eyes.

"I heard jar in the walls."

"No, you did not."

"The walls gossip." Orvin turned very slowly toward James. James shook his head.

"Do not ask." Wicksnap took one step inside. James pointed at him.

"Out. If you get storm mud, or beard water on any research notes, Orvin will finally become violent." Orvin said, very calmly, "I have been closer than anyone knows." Wicksnap looked impressed.

"Good. Anger keeps bones warm." Before James could answer, a rush of wings filled the hall. The fairy children burst inside all at once. They came in a storm of green and gold light, voices overlapping, dust scattering, tiny feet landing on shelves, tables, chair backs, and one unfortunate stack of notes. Orvin made a strangled sound as Piri skidded across a parchment covered in careful symbols. Buzzydew shouted for everyone to calm down while shouting louder than anyone else.

Petalwing was crying and laughing at the same time. Several children spoke so quickly that James could not catch a single full sentence.

"Slow down," James said, straightening.

"One at a time." No one slowed down.

"Buzzydew, stop yelling calm at people." Buzzydew froze mid-command, then looked offended. James searched the bright, frantic swarm until he found Dewpip near the front, clutching her dew bead with both hands. Her eyes shone, and her wings beat so fast they blurred.

"Dewpip," James said gently.

"Tell me." The small fairy flew toward him, breathless and trembling with joy.

"Mother is returning!"