Miss Tsing owned a bakery in Twillig’s Gorge. The best, she claimed. Her father had been descended from a battalion of soldiers who had been swept through the Veil from Nanking, in China, many decades before, and her mother had descended from members of the Roanoke colony who had mysteriously disappeared from an island off the Virginia coast. She had never seen the world her ancestors came from. All she knew was the life and lore of this side of the Veil, and the stories of the human world that were passed down from them, or shared by Lost Ones who had come through in subsequent years.
The bakery had been started by her father in one of the storefront buildings along the Sorrowful River, right in the Gorge. There was a small stretch of the riverfront that was almost like an old European town, with florist shops and restaurants and markets, abuzz with life. A wide cobblestoned walkway passed in front of the shops, beside the river. The bakery had a patio in the front where people could sit and have tea or coffee and watch the life of the Gorge, the fishermen at work, the merchants selling their wares.
It would have been peaceful if it was not so entirely surreal. Julianna and Halliwell sipped coffee and ate pastries at a table with a rose in a vase and a white tablecloth while goblins and fairies and beast-men went about their business as though it was perfectly ordinary. And to them, it was.
Throughout the entire conversation, Julianna had learned so much that was nearly impossible to believe, and yet she had no choice but to believe it. After all, the proof was all around her. Miss Tsing told them of the legendary and the Lost, the Two Kingdoms, the Veil, and the Borderkind. She shared what she knew of a crisis that was spreading throughout the Two Kingdoms, with Hunters in pursuit of the Borderkind in a secret effort to eradicate them. A secret that was no longer quite as secret. Even as Julianna attempted to wrap her mind around that, Miss Tsing explained that Oliver was different from the Lost Ones, that he was an Intruder.
“All right,” she said now, sipping at the coffee, which had a hint of exotic spice. “So Oliver was not touched by the magic of the Veil…Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying this…which means he can go back. And that’s why this whole crazy world wants him dead?”
As Julianna spoke, a handsome young man came from within the bakery. He wore an apron that was covered in flour and smeared with something dark. From his complexion and his countenance, it was clear he was some relation. The man stopped at another table to speak quietly to a group of humans-Lost Ones-of varying races.
A very pale, thin man glanced over at Halliwell and Julianna and laughed softly, rolling his eyes in derision. The baker said something quiet but sharp, and the pale man fell silent.
“Just as you say,” Miss Tsing told her.
“Virginia,” Halliwell said, and it had been so long since he spoke that both women were startled by his voice. “If one of these Borderkind can take Oliver back, then why not us? So we went through once, and now this…roadblock…is going to stop us?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Halliwell shook his head, jaw set grimly. “There has to be a way.”
Even as he spoke, the baker came toward them. He put a hand on Miss Tsing’s shoulder.
“There are always stories. But if there is a way,” the baker said, “no one has ever found it in all the years since the Veil was created. Otherwise, the Lost would never have remained.”
Julianna smiled at the newcomer, who seemed friendly enough. But Halliwell knitted his brows and grimaced at the man. It was obvious the detective did not want anyone dousing whatever spark of hope he could still retain. Julianna didn’t blame him.
“My friends,” Miss Tsing said, “this is my son, Ovid. Ovid, Mr. Halliwell and Miss Whitney.”
Ovid Tsing nodded once to them politely, then glanced at the Lost who sat around the table he had just come from. There were others out on the bakery’s patio as well, some of whom had been making little attempt to disguise their eavesdropping.
“I have spent my whole life on this question, Mr. Halliwell,” Ovid said. He squeezed his mother’s shoulder and she smiled up at him indulgently, patting his hand. “If there were a way for the Lost to return, I would know. One day you will have to accept that, but it often takes time.”
“Your mother said something about a child…what was it?”
The pale man across the patio shook his head wearily.
“The Legend-Born?” Ovid asked, favoring his mother with an indulgent smile. “Stories. Mother’s generation is very superstitious.”
A dreadful silence fell upon them then. Julianna could not look at these gentle, hospitable people. She looked out across the cobblestoned riverwalk and at the river rolling by. Her parents and friends would be frantic by now, believing the worst. It must be nearly Christmas, and she thought of the antique radio she had bought her father, who loved such things, and the Christmas Eve dinner she was supposed to cook with her mother. Work was not such a terrible thing to leave behind. It was all of the little things, the sweet minutiae that made up the best of life.
Halliwell stood up, chair scraping on the patio, and went to the railing to look up and down the length of the Gorge, as if searching for an exit.
“What will you do?” Miss Tsing asked, leaning in toward Julianna.
“Find Oliver. Whether I’m trapped here or not, the only thing left for me to do is to find him, to see his face and hear his voice, and from there we’ll figure out what’s next.”
“And you, Mr. Halliwell?” Miss Tsing asked.
Julianna studied him. The detective leaned on the rail with his shoulders hunched, his muscles taut, as though he might at any moment fly into a rage. But when he turned, his expression was calm and his words measured and even. It was the eyes that gave him away. Halliwell’s eyes were far away, perhaps as far away as a little corner of Maine, or an apartment in Atlanta, Georgia, where his daughter remained, never knowing what was in her father’s heart.
“Julianna’s right. We find Oliver,” he said. “There are questions I want to ask him. Things I need to understand. And if you’re wrong, and there is a way home, then I’m betting his friends will know about it.”
Ovid gazed at him, only a hint of sympathy on his face. “And if I’m right, and there is no way home?”
Halliwell looked at him for a moment as though contemplating the question, then walked back to the table. He did not answer. Instead he sat down again and looked at Miss Tsing.
“All we know is that Oliver’s gone east. He’s got almost half a day on us. But he’s going to have to stop at some point. Do you have any idea where he might go?”
The woman’s forehead creased in thought. She glanced around at the other people sipping coffee and tea and eating scones and muffins and pastries at the patio tables, as though some of them might make a suggestion.
Then she shrugged. “I cannot help you. The Orient Road is to the east. If they are truly going that direction, they will travel upon that road. But your friend has a warrant sworn out for him. He will be cautious. That might slow him down. But it will also mean he is trying not to be found, unaware that some of those who seek him are his friends. There are small towns and villages along the way, but nothing of great consequence. I cannot guess at his destination.”
Julianna shivered, and became aware of a chill that went all through her. It was as though she had been cold all along and only now realized it. A sip from her coffee cup did nothing to warm her. Only then did she understand that the chill was despair.
“So, what, then?” she asked, turning toward Halliwell. “How do we even begin to look for him?”
Halliwell stood up again, edgy with nervous energy. “We go, now. We’ll find this Orient Road and we’ll follow. If we ask enough questions, we might find someone who saw him, or even better, someone who will be able to tell us where he’s headed. He’s wanted, Julianna. Wanted men have only one thing on their minds, and that’s how to stay alive. If we can figure out how he plans to do that, we can find him.”