Yoor was sitting on the warm floor of the new snuggery. He kept his tongue in his cheek and his fingers crossed.

Yunda knelt at his feet, her eyes narrowed. In one smooth move, she closed the loop around Yoor's ankle, ending up at that exact same spot on his tendon.

She straightened up and checked her amulet, then held it out to Yoor with a satisfied sigh. Two twigs, bound together in a narrow cross.

Yoor gingerly let it come to rest on his palm. "That is how you do it?" He touched a gentle fingertip to the wood.

Yunda gave him a meaningful nod.

Yoor bowed his head. "My goodness." His words were barely more than a whisper. "I am learning things about magic here that I have never dreamed of."

In the back of the room, Herun was talking quietly with the boys. The little sister was huddled up in a blanket, drowsing.

Yoor let his gaze come to rest on Yunda's scrawny body, her straight spine. He felt the power radiating out from her.

"You have freed a hundred miners like that." Yoor licked his lips. "And yourself too." He weighed the amulet in his hand. His voice seemed to come from a great distance. "I have never tried. Never dared to use the craft in the old mages' very own realm. I was so afraid I would become one of them."

Yoor raised his palm, holding the amulet up as if to let it shine down on them from its high altar. "But maybe the old powers can be used for good. To undo the past. Or even to create something new."

Yunda laid a hand on his shoulder, and Yoor let his eyes fall shut. "Have I found the master who will teach me how to walk that path?"

* * *

Enim heaved a sigh of relief. All the thousands of names he had entered were still there. He leaned back against the wall of his room and ran a hand over his face.

"All right?" Nin asked hopefully.

Enim squinted out at her between his fingers. Even after several days, he had not gotten used to this bodyguard concept. It made him feel incredibly itchy to not have one single moment to himself, to be under constant surveillance.

But of course, this was much better than the alternative. Much, much better. Enim was quite sure that their new sentinels actually did keep them safe, through their mere presence. These youth from the capital, who had started their solstice holidays early to travel to the Mountains for the adventure of their lives, really had saved them. In one way.

"It's all right," Enim confirmed. "I have managed to put both the crystal and the spell back in place, and all the names are still there. No harm done."

"There you are," Nin beamed at him.

Enim snorted under his breath. "Nevertheless. This could have ended very badly. You really need to be careful. If three six-year-olds tie themselves to a receptacle at night to be guardians, it may happen that one of them knocks it over while asleep. As we now know." Enim ran a gentle hand over the polished wooden case. "Traptions look solid enough from the outside. But inside, they are very delicate."

Nin cast a timid peek over his shoulder into the intricate web of spun glass. She looked sufficiently awed to mollify Enim's ruffled feelings.

"I'll do my best to keep it safe too," Enim promised. He glanced guiltily at his bag that still held crystals and cases. 'I really must finish the others now,' he thought. 'And store all names in each receptacle every night. I have been unforgivably reckless in not doing so all along.'

Enim shook his head. That was all they needed, really. After all the threats and dangers, all the hard work. To knock themselves out, merely through their own clumsiness.

*

As Enim rummaged through the magical supplies on his shelf, a large roll of parchment fell out. Enim picked it up.

The Scroll of the Special Representative for the Region of the Mountains, from back then, when Enim had been appointed. Enim unfurled it with a sigh, his gaze roaming idly over the calligraphy. Until they caught in the small text at the bottom. Enim's eyes focused. He reread the same line again. And again.

He raised his head, staring straight ahead with an expressionless face.

A deep light began to glow in his eyes. His breath quickened. He turned around to Nin. "Come!"

Enim was already out the door, darting across the lane to the Snuggery. "Kaya!" he called even while still in the courtyard. "Lhut! Torly! Look at this!"

* * *

They had agreed to meet at the Sky Inn. And almost everyone had wanted to come along, so now there was over a dozen voices filling the back room with an expectant hum of hope and argument, of plans and dreams. If this could work... The string of uncertainty that held people suspended was drawn taut to the point of snapping.

Then all voices fell silent at once. All heads turned.

The door flew open and a swirl of black robes came rushing in.

The latch fell shut, clicking in the sudden stillness.

"Well?" Zurres raised an arrogant brow over cold, hard eyes.

Enim hesitated. He licked his lips. Torly gave him a little shove.

Enim unrolled the Scroll of the Special Representative. "I am told you are well versed in legal matters? Able to say how certain passages would be interpreted in Varoonya?"

Zurres gave him a curt nod.

And Enim made his case. Pointing out passages, interpreting, arguing.

"'...can act as a county official in any matter concerning the region.' If it is urgent, an emergency. And if other county officials are unable to take appropriate action, or have failed to do so."

Enim spread out his arms. "So this is it! It is urgent: The Choosing happens in a few days, at solstice. Thousands of people risk being excluded: an emergency! Other scribes, who should have done a proper folkcount in time, have failed to do so. And that is why I, the Special Representative for the Mountains, am entitled to take charge. Legally. Officially. I will complete the folkcount and hold a Choosing in Shebbetin."

Enim's hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes were feverishly bright as they bore into Zurres.

The old woman pulled the scroll toward her in an unhurried gesture. She let her gaze roam over the calligraphy, and over the small paragraphs at the bottom. With unseeing eyes, she stared through the table into endless nothingness.

Then Zurres raised her head. The room lay in utter silence as she pronounced her verdict.

"Yes. That might hold."

Enim sank onto a chair, his knees weak.

But Torly jumped up, whooping among a firework of stars exploding out from Yoor, while Som whirled Nin around in a furious dance full of flying ribbons. A wild, glorious rallying cry burst from Kaya's lungs.

"We're on! Go for it!!!"

*

The inn's back room had turned into the unofficial base camp for the team of the Choosing.

In one corner, Enim was demonstrating the use of receptacle traptions to one person after another.

Slunyew stood bent over the center table, his finger roving over a list of names. "We will have to work through the nights," he rumbled at Ngyrya. "Only five receptacles, and thousands of people. We'll never finish before solstice if we have so much as a break."

"That means we need a bigger crew." Ngyrya rubbed her chin. "We'll be doing shifts."

Pulan was getting a headache translating into Kokish and explaining everything to all the Varoonians who were not following.

But Kaya was ready to start the wave that would now wash over Shebbetin. She motioned to Lhut as she turned toward the main room of the inn. Lhut followed, pushing a chair in front of him. He held out a hand to Kaya to let himself be helped up as they began to survey the crowded tables.

"Look!" Lhut hissed. "Isn't that the cistern liaison meeting back there?"

"Our lucky day." A wicked grin had spread over Kaya's face. "There's our entry point. Talking to them will get the message to all the neighborhoods that have cisterns. Which means: all of them."

"And the folks at that corner table are firefighters." Lhut pointed discreetly. "A local bunch only. But they have their network all over Shebbetin. And they can spread news as fast as...you know."

Kaya snorted happily. "We'll hardly have to mention it to any of the other individual guests here at all. But we'll do it anyway, of course. After. First, let's split up. You take cisterns, I'll do fire?"

And that moment, Som burst through the door in a whirl of colors, Manaam in her wake.

Manaam's eyes were bright. He took hold of Lhut's sleeve and cautiously pulled in the direction of the back room. "Please." He glanced at Kaya. "Before you go and tell everyone. Can I make a suggestion?"

Kaya eyed him suspiciously. But she did lead him in.

Heads turned around as they entered, and Manaam launched into his speech directly. "Please. Listen. I have come to ask you," he pleaded. "Much will depend on how this day goes."

Manaam took a step into the room. "I am not one to reach for the stars, to try for the impossible. But this is a falling star I might be able to catch. Even though perhaps it will burn my palm, or slip through my fingers. But it might just work, and that would have incredible power."

Manaam pulled off his woolen cap. "I am talking about the owners here. How will they take it? Will they feel shocked and overrun? Naydeer will certainly suggest it to them."

Manaam's eyes narrowed. "But I could come in first. Presenting a story of joy and triumph. At this moment when it is already happening, owners may find it convenient to proclaim, to themselves and to others, that they have always been in favor anyway. That they have never quite understood why people have not been part of the Choosing, or why the most basic county services are not available in Shebbetin. 'Of course they should be! I have always said so.'"

Manaam looked down at his feet. "Even if that is not exactly true. This might be our chance to have the owners, collectively, come out in favor of the Transition. If we play it well."

He cleared his throat. "So here is my plea. First, please let us celebrate today as the Day of the Transition. The more we present it this light, the more likely it is to become just that. A great turning point. A pivotal moment in history. So if you can, then bring masses out into the street, making loud, noisy, jubilant proclamations."

Manaam spread out his arms in a wide, open gesture. "Secondly, please allow the owners to join in. Let them feel that this is their Transition too. Even if they have failed it in the past. If they are willing to support it now, that is what matters most. That is the future we want them to live into. So please don't make enemies out of them. Invite everyone in, to celebrate the coming of the Transition as their own triumph, their own blessing and delight."

Manaam's eyes were uncertain now, searching, pleading. "Can you do that?"

Gazes traveled and met across the room. Opinions were sought and given silently among a group of friends so deeply attuned they were able to sense each other's state at a glance.

"Yes," Lhut summed up. "We will go for it. We'll have a big celebration. And we will include the owners."

"The bastards," Kaya muttered.

* * *

The plaza teemed with people jostling and bustling, shouting and joking. Hot spicy tea was handed round, and the strong rhythms of songs and dances came from every corner.

All the mines were closed for the day. Manaam had used his persuasive charms, accompanied by Zurres who had radiated state authority and a vague aura of Varoonian powers.

All of that combined had been enough for the vast majority of owners to sign a memorandum in which they declared themselves shocked at the discovery of irregularities, and glad to see that everyone had finally been included in the Choosing. They welcomed the prospect of proper county services and good living conditions and had proclaimed a new holiday to memorize this epochal moment in Shebbetin's history: Transition Day.

They did not have to say that twice. People were already on their way, after all. The message had first spread through the living network of Shebbetin like ripples in a pond, then like ocean waves crushing ashore in triumph.

Now people were whirling around town in one big dance, one huge fair dedicated to joy and affirmation. Colorful flags waved from every window, and jugglers, acrobats and artists of all trades were practicing in the streets. Fortune-tellers had sprung up out of nowhere and were predicting Shebbetin's golden future. Yoor had joined one of them, who was recruiting both the questions and the answers from her delighted audience.

"All houses in the Mansion will have a hearth!" a young girl shouted, and Yoor instantly created the vision of an evening lane which a warm fiery glow shining through every window.

"And fountains everywhere!"

There they were. Everyone burst out laughing when they saw a wrollic jump out of a pool and shake himself dry in a haze of sparkles.

Only in one corner of the square people were not taking on top of each other, but instead all looking in the same direction, in silence. On the one official stage that there was, a young owner was giving a speech. And even if the people who were all listening instead of giving their own opinions presented an odd picture: It became clear soon enough what the actual effect of this performance was. The owner's eyes were shining. Just a bit longer, and she would have talked herself into honest enthusiasm. The jubilation in the square and the energy of the attentive audience giving her supportive rounds of applause let the owner discover or develop an entirely new aspect of herself: the visionary. A vanguard of the Transition.

"How did this even happen?" Torly was shaking her head in amazement, looking out over the creative, passionate crowd on the square. "If I decided to have a big celebration in Varoonya, people would not be pouring out into the street simply on my word. They all have their own lives going on. Their own parties, even. They are not sitting by, waiting for my call."

Enim grinned at her. "That is what Kaya and her friends have been doing all these years. Building up connections. There is a structure here, a network that is strong and healthy, and fraught with anticipation. That is why one small spark was enough now to let this firework explode." Enim spread his arms wide, as if in a huge embrace of the crowd.

But then he turned around and pulled Torly away. "Let's go. We are late already."

There was a long queue outside the Gray Dragon Inn. So long, in fact, that the people not only filled the lane, but had begun to make themselves at home in it too. Warmlings and hot soup were brought out from the houses. Little groups sat on borrowed chairs and discussed the Choosing, the Transition, the future of Shebbetin, all the while slowly advancing toward the receptacles.

In passing, Enim heard an animated voice and a fraction of an idea that instinctively made him veer in that direction. But, no. He could not simply sit down and join in. For inside the Gray Dragon, Lhut was waiting to be replaced at the receptacle.

Enim let his gaze travel along the lane.

Hundreds, thousands of people, who had all found their voice. Who would be choosing a new Council, and a new future. One in which all the children had a home, and all the sick access to healers. One where everybody could have a good live, and be free and equal in rights and dignity.

Enim closed his eyes for a moment.

This was it.

They had made it.