In her quest for the treasure of knowledge, Torly was beginning to make her way through the secret tangles of the library. She began climbing remote ladders and hindmost galleries. Soon, she was in forgotten corridors, underground vaults, and creaky little attics full of dust.

She was up in one of those now, a reading room where apparently the furniture had been temporarily removed, to be returned whenever someone remembered where all of that had initially come from.

Anyway, the books were still there, at least the one Torly wanted, and she happily squatted on the floor underneath a dim skylight, propping her book up on a trunk before her. She sneezed. But she never let that break her concentration. She had a lock of hair wrapped tightly around her finger and pulled at it, reproducing the pattern of strain in her thought.

Then she let go. She moved up closer to the trunk, taking the book in both hands, rereading a passage. She stared up into the air, then swiftly pulled a sheet from her bag and began to write feverishly.

*

Torly cautiously peered through the half-open door. No ghosts were howling inside, no dragons taking wing. No bright light descended on wide open highlands.

It was just Yoor, sitting in the bay balcony, looking out into dark, rainy clouds. When Torly knocked, he turned his head and smiled. "Come in. I am ready to receive human company."

"What a fortunate moment." Torly snuggled up beside him, dipping her nose into his scent.

But then she pulled back to look at him. "I know you have excused yourself from the treasure hunt of library enigmas. But I fear... that we are in trouble." She looked at him questioningly. "Do you wish to hear?"

"Yes," Yoor replied. "Please. Try me. I'll do my best."

Torly pulled out her stack of papers, but then did not read from them after all. Instead she tried to explain, getting straight to the point. "It's all somewhat confusing. But as far as I understand, this here," she tapped the topmost paper, "says you need five thousand people to sign their names in support of your registration."

Torly bent her head. "And we'd need to hand that in ten days from now."

She looked up at Yoor.

He gazed back at her. "Five thousand people," he said. "Ten days."

"Yes." Torly hugged her knees. "We got started late. Now we are so close to the Choosing already, and everything's very tight." She cleared her throat. "I have no doubt that Kaya could get five thousand people in Shebbetin to support the grouping. Even more. But right now? In an instant? We won't even be able to get a letter to Shebbetin and back that quickly. And we cannot possibly get five thousand people to sign here in Varoonya. Can we?" She looked at Yoor both hopefully and doubtfully.

Yoor leaned back. His eyes drifted out into the rain, tiny drops in the inexorable pull of the earth, falling relentlessly. He sighed, and edged away from the cool spray.

"May I see?" He held out a hand for the paper Torly had been tapping.

Yoor read through it. And read through it again. Then he let it sink with a groan. "I am so glad I have excused myself from this ordeal," he grumbled. "I can hardly make it through one paragraph."

Yoor tried once more, his brow furrowed. "What is 'equivalent weight'?"

"What?"

"It says here, 'with the endorsement of the registration of said grouping with equivalent weight of signed names of five thousand persons entitled by all legal stipulations to participate in the Choosing relevant to these proceedings...'" Yoor looked at her questioningly.

Torly took back the paper, squinting at the words. "I have no idea," she finally shrugged. "I guess I just filed that expression away together with 'all legal stipulations' and 'relevant to these proceedings.' If I tried to check up on all of these I am afraid I will end up a mummy in a dusty attic, or in some moldering archive. The library is a trap, you know," she grinned at him, her natural spirits bubbling up again, in spite of everything.

"But you are right," she went on. "Or let's assume that you are right. That there is some hope left, somewhere. In 'equivalent weight,' for instance. Or in Varoonya. You can stay here and dream up a way of getting five thousand people in Varoonya to stand up for the Mountain, or of flying to Shebbetin in an instant. Meanwhile, I will try to identify 'equivalent weight.'"

She hopped up, pulling her hooded rain cloak from a hook by the door. "But if I come back suggesting that I'll next check up on 'all legal stipulations,' I beg that you do stop me. I am still young, and I want to live." She winked back at Yoor and disappeared.

Yoor watched her go, a warm smile on his lips.

*

Torly released a large spray of drops from the cloak when she shook it before hanging it up to dry.

Yoor was lounging in the bay balcony, one leg dangling out in the sky, just like before. He had prepared dinner in the meantime, however. Torly was famished and eagerly dipped her nose into the pot. As she shoveled her portion onto a plate, she looked at Yoor expectantly.

"I have dreamed up wonderful solutions both ways you suggested," he related. "However, translation of dream into reality within the next ten days might still pose problem, I am sorry to say. Therefore, if you have anything hopeful to report, I suggest we rather start with that."

Torly nodded, her mouth full. "I do. I have," she mumbled. She swallowed, then slowed down the progress on her food in favor of her report. "I asked my cousin. To ask a friend of his, who is a legal counselor. And she said: This is about proving political relevance. If five thousand people say it's important, it's important enough." Torly's eyes were shining. "Or if someone representing five thousand people says it's important, that's also enough."

Torly pointed her spoon at Yoor. "This means: If we can get at least one member of the Council to sign for our grouping, we've won." She beamed at him. And dug into her food.

Yoor looked at her uncomprehendingly. "A member of the Council?" He rubbed his chin. "A member of the Council. But they are all members of groupings themselves. That is how they got in. Because they were on the list of their grouping. So how would any them want to support a grouping other than their own? They wouldn't, would they?"

"No, they wouldn't," Torly admitted. "You've put your finger right on the weakest spot of that strategy."

She munched another spoonful of gorgeous curry. "However, this is all we have got," she said with a degree of satisfaction that suggested that since there was no other option, this particular option would have to feel obliged to do her bidding.

Yoor nodded vaguely. "I see," he said, not quite truthfully. His voice swam searchingly across the room. "So what are we going to do?"

Torly raised her eyebrows. "Well, there's only one way, isn't there?"

* * *

The dark clouds were breaking up and a few golden fingers of evening sun reached in through the palace windows. Lenoren ignored the beauty of it as she pushed her office door shut behind her with one foot and sagged down into her chair with a groan. It had been a long day. A day full of talking and talking, of sitting around tables, comparing notes and shuffling papers, and talking some more.

Lenoren liked talking to people. She really did. But at some point, it was simply enough for a day.

She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, then her elbow. Her beloved old tunic had suffered a tear there today, and not even just a burst seam. No, this here would need an actual patch. Lenoren sighed. She rummaged in her bag and came up with a few rice balls and a half-full water bottle. Ha! That was at least something.

As Lenoren began to eat, her belly thoroughly approved, spreading an increasing sense of well-being to her whole body. She even began to hum a little. It had not been such a bad day after all. Tiring, yes, but they had gotten quite a few things done, and done well, she believed. So it had been worth it.

Lenoren pulled a stack of papers from her bag and carefully wiped crumbs and droplets from her desk before putting them down. Her notes. She might as well sort them now, while she could still remember what was what and why. She dug into the papers, dividing them up into smaller heaps, and throwing a great number of them down on the floor altogether. She was rapidly getting near the bottom of the stack.

What was this? Ah, still stuff from the Canopy gathering. Well, that was a fine way to conclude the day, she thought. Not only because the gathering was over, contrasting nicely with things crowding the agenda for tomorrow. But also because it had gone well. They had reached a consensus about voting rights for each country within the Canopy. An important decision. And it was going to be based on population size, just as Lenoren had wanted it to be. Lenoren gave a satisfied grunt, and secretly admitted that Zurres's tactical scheming had proven powerful once again, however much Lenoren might dislike that outdated attitude.

In any case, now there was going to be a folkcount in all the regions of the Canopy, including Yurvania. A lot of work, Lenoren was sure. Scribes would have to travel from busy city centers to the hindmost corners of the countryside, recording every single person who lived anywhere. But fortunately, people within the bureaus were in charge of organizing that. People who were not Lenoren.

With a deep, contented sigh, Lenoren bit into the last of her rice balls and put her feet up on the desk as she sifted through the remaining papers.

* * *

Almost all of Nin's parents had gathered, and brought a couple of other kids along as well. It was one of those big family dinners. Nevertheless, Nin's attention was all on Lenoren.

"Yoor needs our support," Nin declared. "They all do. The Mountains are calling us!"

"Are they?" Lenoren asked distractedly, reaching over the table for another helping of vegetables.

"Yes, they are!" Nin affirmed hotly. "And if you had been paying attention, you would know this by now! They have been needing us for ages, and nobody noticed! And you are in the Council, and you should have known and done something about it!"

Lenoren sighed, but silently.

"Fortunately, there is something you can do now, and it won't even be hard," Nin asserted, more conciliatorily.

"That is good news, for once." Lenoren carefully kept her note of sarcasm down.

"Yes," Nin nodded emphatically, "it is. Yoor will come to see you in your office tomorrow. I don't know at what hour."

"Neither do I," Lenoren mumbled.

"He will explain to you in person. You need to sign their document, saying that it is all right for the grouping of the Mountain to be up at the next Choosing. They can't do it without that signature, you see?"

"Oh?" Lenoren raised an eyebrow, but only very slightly. "Well, I shall have nothing other to do than await his visit, then." And she topped up her glass, gratefully receiving the crooked co-parent grin Qin Roh sent her from across the table.

* * *

Lenoren bowed politely to Yoor and Torly and bade them farewell. She would surely let them know if she could think of anything helpful. And yes, of course they could leave the documents with her.

Zurres leaned back in her corner and watched them go. Thoughtfully, she followed their progress across the ornate floor of the parlor in which Lenoren had received them. Or where they had intercepted her, if one chose to look at it that way.

As usual, the parlor was filled with a low hum between relaxation and busyness. People were strolling up and down, getting themselves a hot drink or a small meal. Informal conversations floated across the room, filling the air with a constant murmur, accompanied by the soft splashing of the fountain. Zurres liked the room. It was very useful.

She got up.

Lenoren flinched as a dark shadow suddenly flowed across her neck.

But Zurres was only picking out grapes from a bowl behind Lenoren's back.

"It was quite good at the Canopy in the end, wasn't it?" Zurres hissed in a way that made Lenoren think anything other than 'good.'

"Those decisions might be useful in many ways," Zurres continued inexorably. "The folkcount, for example. What if it turns out that some remote areas have a lot more people than we thought? That affects the Choosing. Pity only that none of us would have the capacity to go to such forgotten places to woo. One could only hope that some small local grouping crops up and gets very active. They would never make it into the Council, of course. But the choices of those locals would get redistributed afterward, and might even end up with us, with the Crane grouping."

A last grape met its fate between Zurres's teeth. Lenoren thought she could hear a discreet cracking sound. She turned around irritably, but Zurres had already disappeared in a flurry of black robes.

*

Lenoren sat at her office and shuffled Yoor's documents around on the desk. Simultaneously, she shuffled Zurres's words around in her head.

Lenoren clicked her tongue angrily. Did Zurres have to do that? Couldn't she just talk in some normal, friendly way, and appear at least halfway honest while she was doing it? These were not the times before the Transition, after all, where scheming and intrigue might have been common demeanor in the palace.

Anyway. Now what had Zurres been trying to tell her?

That here was a nice and easy way to improve the Choosing results for the Crane, probably. By having a small local grouping do all the wooing. An idea Zurres presented to Lenoren at precisely the moment a local grouping was asking for Lenoren's support. All while her daughter was pestering her over breakfast and dinner and while Lenoren herself was sympathetic to the cause anyway.

Lenoren grunted, uncertain whether she was angry at Zurres, or at herself, or at Nin and those artless Mountain people. Or at the world in general, for being muddled and confusing, instead of simple and straightforward. Or maybe it was straightforward, in this case? Everything pointed her in the same direction, after all.

All Lenoren needed to do was to ensure that the Mountain registration included a reallocation clause in favor of the Crane. That was all.

* * *

A thick letter had arrived at Yoor's house. From the palace.

Yoor turned around to Torly, wide-eyed. "Would you believe it?" He shook his head softly, as if trying to make sure he was awake. "Lenoren has signed the document. She actually has." His voice wavered. "Lenoren, faithful member of the Crane grouping, has signed the registration of the Mountain. Thus bringing it into existence."

He stared down at the paper, then handed it to Torly.

Torly looked just as astounded as Yoor. She turned the sheet over in her hand as if some explanation might be forthcoming that way.

"There is a note with it," Yoor added. He pulled it out from in between all the papers in the envelope and began to read. "Lenoren says she is very glad to be able to send us this. She had the papers run through by people versed in legal matters and has made a few minor changes. If all of that is to our liking, we only need to hand it in at the palace in time. Best regards, and good luck."

Torly rubbed the back of her head. "Well, we too are glad she was able to send us this," she said. "Amazing. Who would have thought this could possibly work?"

Yoor burst out laughing. "Well, you did!"

"Did I?" A grin stole up into Torly's face. "Oh, yes. Of course I thought that. Or—knew it!"