All the Snuggery was asleep. Except for one other small, worried corner.

"Maybe you should have gone along to Varoonya," Lhut fretted, tossing on the mat while still trying not to wake the kids. "Just to be safe. Like we said you would, after solstice."

"Bah." Kaya waved a dismissive hand under the duvet. "We have won! True, all the observers from Varoonya have left. But Naydeer will not dare to touch us now. It is over! We have been in the Choosing, we will be in the Council. We will never be powerless again!"

Her eyes were gleaming in the dark.

Lhut wagged his head. But before he could respond, Cahuan, rolled up beside him with Quena in her arms, came in with a tired whisper. "Can we do this in the morning?"

Lhut smiled ruefully and snuggled up beside Cahuan. "Yes. It is late. Let's go to sleep." He whispered a kiss onto her ear. "Help me, still?"

He felt her nod against his lips.

With Kaya's hard, warm body in his back and Cahuan's soft song of sea dragons in his ear, Lhut relaxed onto the mat. As his mind let go, the pain roared up in his limbs and Lhut gasped before he managed to keep his breath even, a steady ebb and flow while the raging beast of agony flailed among crushing waves. But Lhut's spirits, safe within a prayer and a chant, drifted away to float in the quiet realm of the stars, to rest and to dream.

But the night was long, and dark. And while the sea dragon dove down deep into the ocean, another beast reared its head, beginning its hunt.

* * *

Black shadows crept around the outside walls of the building. A silhouette crouched beneath a window, hiding from the light of the moon. Another shadow stood beside the door, pressed back against the wall.

The door opened.

The shadows moved.

Noiselessly, they made their way into the house. A floorboard creaked and the sleeper woke, even from that little sound.

As he half-opened his eyes, shock jerked him awake, but before he could move, a cloud of dark green light enveloped him, making his limbs impossibly heavy. Trying in vain to raise his arms, to struggle, he felt his hands bound behind his back and his mouth speechless.

The shadows flowed up silently, from one room to another, one sleeper to the next. They moved on to another building, all over town, choosing very deliberately where to enter. Who to come to.

Another door opened. Another sleeper woke and struggled against the magic, against the bonds. She tried to scream. She could not. The shadow above her held her tightly. Then he pulled out a brass medallion from under his shirt and let it dangle before her eyes. She recognized the intricate pattern engraved on it. She knew what it was. Knew what it meant. Then a low, deep voice spoke right above her ear.

"We are the Recoursors of Yurvania. You are under arrest. Please come quietly."

* * *

Enim had found Torly and Yoor again, on the corner of the entrance hall.

But that was all. No trace of Zurres. No answers.

The empty corridor behind him stretched on silently, with its worn stone floor and half-open doors. The festive sounds from the hall seemed distant, unreal.

Enim felt dangerously light-headed. He sat down on the floor. Resting his back against a marble column, he interlaced his numb fingers with Yoor and Torly, who had sunk down beside him, staring straight ahead into unfathomable distance.

Time passed, with nothing in it. Nothing at all.

Then a pair of feet appeared before Enim.

"Get up," a voice said. "I need a word."

He raised his gaze.

Lenoren.

Torly, Enim and Yoor scrambled to their feet, like the disheveled and shaky lot that they were.

Lenoren did not waste time. "I'm on my way to a presentation. But just quickly."

She looked at them, and by now they were able to look back at her, their wits sufficiently gathered. "Your receptacles have not been included, the voices from Shebbetin never counted. I assume you are disappointed." They did not bother to confirm. Lenoren went on without pause. "However, there is something else in this that you may not be aware of." A thin smile came to her lips. "But Zurres was. And she has seen it through with the respective officials, including me."

Lenoren leaned forward slightly. "The folkcount you have done came in too late for this Choosing. But it will be accepted, provisionally, for everything else. As the approximate number of inhabitants of Shebbetin."

Lenoren was positively beaming at them by now. "All the county services will be calculated from that. How many healers are needed in the area. How many learning pavilions. How many pouch collection points. Everything."

Lenoren took a little step back. "You have not made it into the Council. Not even into the Choosing. But you have won, as far as I can see. All that truly matters. A good life for all."

*

"Really?"

Torly raked a hand through her hair. She looked down the corridor where Lenoren had vanished. "We thought all was lost. But in fact, all is won?"

She turned around, eyes wide. "Is this actually true? Is this what is happening?"

"Apparently." Enim rubbed a hand over his arm. "Even if it seems a little hard to believe."

"What, even to you?"

Enim tentatively raised one shoulder. His eyes roamed out over the hall, into the golden light lingering between glinting chandeliers.

He took a deep breath.

True, when Enim had first arrived in Shebbetin, he had trusted, beyond a doubt, that everything would be put right straight away. Even in all his outrage, he had felt sure, positive.

But by now, Enim had been through so many highs and lows, so much tension and surprise, passion and disbelief, hope and disappointment, that he did not know what to believe any more. At least not tonight.

"I am confused. Overwhelmed. Dizzy." Enim leaned his head back against the wall. "I guess I will need a bit more confirmation before I am able to believe again. To fully trust. To know that, yes indeed, we have won. That the Transition truly has come to the Mountains."

At that moment, a black-clad figure swooped down the corridor like a famished hawk and bore down on their little group.

Enim jolted upright. They all froze, staring at the apparition with dread. With hope. With tense anticipation.

Zurres came to a halt so abruptly that her dark robes billowed out all around her.

Her thin lips actually held a smile.

"Yes!"

*

The music swelled, filling the palace hall with its glory. Torly whirled around the dance floor like a dervish. She fell into Yoor's arms, bathing him in peals of laughter.

Enim called out loud, drunk on a little wine and a lot of triumph. "There will be a hundred snuggeries!"

Yoor instantly let an image of Yunda's beaming face drift past, followed by the curled-up form of sleeping little Quena. A gloomy mine entrance dissolved into bright sunlight and became a bustling Mansion full of people with their eyes shiny and their limbs intact, taking old thatch down from the roofs. And then the inevitable galloping horse appeared, the rider's cloak billowed dramatically as she rode off into the sunset, a letter held high in her outstretched hand.

Tory snorted and ruffled Yoor's hair as the vision faded.

"What?" Yoor tried to pout over his grin. "It is true. Pouch riders are great heroes, intrepidly at our service."

"They sure are," Torly agreed, kissing his cheek.

Enim opened his mouth, but his words got lost as a horde of boisterous youths stormed in through the palace doors like wild ponies, whooping and whinnying as they threw themselves upon Yoor and Torly. A moment later, they rushed off onto the dance floor, pulling even Enim along in their irresistible tide.