"I don't believe in the golden morrow."

Manaam let his hand slip off Cahuan's shoulder and took a few steps to the window, staring out to where the pedalcart was waiting for her to continue her round of errands.

Manaam's face darkened. "I can't imagine they'll be in the Council. And I don't believe the county will come and make everything right either." He stood with his back turned, his gaze lost among the trees of the avenue.

"You do know, however," Cahuan murmured, "that of all the things Kaya has done so far, none sounded remotely possible when she first mentioned them."

Manaam snorted. He let his brow fall against the pane.

"Maybe."

He turned around to Cahuan, shaking his head. "I am not one to reach for the stars. I won't keep others from trying, though. And should they ever succeed, against all my expectations, I will be thrilled."

His lips curved into a crooked, woeful line. "The most I can aim for with this is to be open. To allow for a mere possibility, a sliver of hope. To stay awake. So that if perhaps one day a falling star does indeed come within my reach, I will not fail to catch it."

Manaam turned around to face Cahuan. "But I would like to do something here and now. Something that will actually work. Where I can see how."

With one gentle hand, Manaam cupped the round flowerpot that sat on the windowsill. "Of course it would be much better to have the county come in and set up well-funded learning pavilions for all children in one go."

Manaam carefully ran a finger along the young green leaves sprouting from the earth. "But what if the county never shows? Then there will be nothing at all. Unless we grow it ourselves, with what we have. Let us at least give a few kids a home. Right here, right now."

Manaam found Cahuan's gaze.

"Come. We'll start another snuggery."

* * *

The day at the Snuggery was in full swing. Torly and Yoor had settled in, immersing themselves as best as they could even without speaking any Vanian.

But the children helped. With hands and feet and some Kokish. Pulan briefly interrupted her doings to explain to Torly, all while the second girl kept holding on to the other end of the wooden plank Pulan had tucked under her arm.

"We build cart. Like this," Pulan pointed to the Snuggery's handcart. "But half as big. This is bottom," Pulan raised her shoulder and the board underneath. "But we must think. The cart half as big. So what boards we need? Half as big? Or same big, but half as many? What is half as big, really?" Pulan gave a high, inquisitive whistle and completely forgot about Torly as she crouched down again with the other girl, both putting their heads together over a measuring stick and a piece of slate, trying to figure this out.

Quena, the youngest, was rubbing her fingers over the letters carved into wooden boards along the walls and filling the drawing next to each letter with chalk. Later she walked over and watched Lunin write down a text on a slate. His twin sister Lasa read it to him with considerable difficulty, and both kids kept checking back and forth between the story book and the slate to make sure all the words were as they should be.

In the back corner, the old woman Torly had already seen explaining herbs in the meadow sat on the floor in dignified elder pose, weaving grass mats with three children from the Mansion.

Lhut had been walking on his hands in the courtyard, inspiring a number of children to try and imitate him, or to at least stand on their hands while leaning against the wall for support. Lhut had left them, however, when one girl had gotten into a fight and come to him to cry her heart out. Lhut had sat down on a blanket, holding her close, murmuring into her ear every now and then. Slowly, she had recovered, and was now, still in Lhut's arms, trying to make sense of what had happened to her, and to figure out whether she should apologize or what else could be done to make things right again.

Som was dancing around Yoor in a blur of frills and ribbons and checkered tunic. She did her best to explain the Snuggery in Kokish.

"This here," Som gestured toward the stairs leading up the side wall of the courtyard, "is tailor family. Three tailors, one baby. The baby here with us some more day. We carry and feed and play." Som demonstrated carrying a baby, almost getting close to Lasa and Lunin in their role-playing mode.

"They tailor shop very great. Many ribbons. Many colors." She raised the patches of her tunic with a meaningful look at Yoor. "When they say yes, I go watch tailors." Som squeezed one eye shut, focusing on a long swath of imaginary cloth with the other, cutting a perfectly precise line with her scissory fingers. "I learn," Som added proudly.

"And also! Tailor family always here. We can shout them, always. When Cahuan and Lhut not here and terrible things happen."

Yoor smiled, his eyes on the door to the wonderful world of helpful and competent tailors.

Cahuan was mending clothes with a six-year-old boy who kept losing his thread and looking to Cahuan to remember how to place a stitch.

Torly moved over to Enim and asked him about the origins of the Snuggery and its children.

Enim did his best to explain.

"Of course children, even in Shebbetin, usually have at least three or four parents, just like anywhere else. Parents who cease to be lovers go on being parents. Parents who fall in love bring in their new partners. So usually there is a healthy little network, growing over time, where the children always have some parent they can turn to in difficult times. But when children start out with only two or even one parent, and something happens to that very last one—where do they go? Who can they turn to? With no county services at all."

Enim's face was grim. "In Shebbetin, parents get lost more easily than elsewhere. People die, due to accidents, hard labor, poor food, poor housing. Some leave. Some despair. So if there wasn't a strong and large network of parents to start out with, children can end up being left alone."

Enim took a deep breath. "Cahuan took in the kids of a friend who died. And then others she knew, and then kids people brought to her because they had heard of the Snuggery."

Cahuan met Torly's gaze. She had been listening to Enim's tale with one ear during her sewing. "Yes. This how it was. This how we are." She nodded encouragingly at the boy by her side who had just managed to find his thread again. Cahuan smiled, as if the sad story had come to a happy ending after all.

Torly looked around, observing the children scattered across the room, and could understand why. There was something very right about the Snuggery, she felt. Something very, very right.