When the sun rose bright and shiny the next day, Yoor's little mountain house was one of the first beneficiaries. Distant sounds from the waking city floated into the bedroom, intermingled with birdsong and the rustling of leaves.

Yoor rolled out of bed. He met Enim and a boiling kettle in the kitchen. "Ah," Yoor rumbled appreciatively, "well done, my friend. I see you can make yourself useful in more ways than one. More than ten or twelve even, I should say, considering all the things I have seen you do so far."

Enim blushed, laughing. "Yes. The ability to make strong tea is just one of my many accomplishments. Thank you."

When they arrived at the palace, Lenoren was already in, but could not receive them right away. So they settled in the parlor and waited. They had another round of warm drinks, and, after a while, some more food. Some rounds of pacing the parlor, then drinks again. Pacing again, and waiting some more. Finally, Lenoren was ready to see them.

Lenoren showed clear signs of having been up late the night before. And the night before that and before that, perhaps. She had moons of wooing for the Crane behind her, after all. And the constitution of the new Council before her, and ongoing business in between. She looked slightly more ragged than Enim and his friends.

But she was in good spirits. "Congratulations!" She beamed at them. "You have done it!" A wicked grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Or I could say: You are going to do it!"

Her eyes shone with the wryness and enthusiasm of years of experience in the Council. "It is tempting to think that now it is all over. But this is a beginning more than an end. The door of possibilities has opened—now someone has to step through. And to keep on walking, on and on. The Transition in an endless path, steep and winding, exhausting and wonderful."

She pushed a strand of hair from her brow. "Hundreds of learning pavilions need to be set up. And healers, and homes for the children in work cabins, and housing that isn't a death trap, and lights, and water, and everything. This will be enormous."

Lenoren leaned forward. "Scribes from the bureaus in Varoonya will be in charge of expanding the existing services, of course. But they need a counterpart in Shebbetin. And these people will be key. This is your call." She pointed her pencil at them. "Find the miracle workers!"

Lenoren pushed herself upright in her chair. "We need at least two scribes in Shebbetin. People who are committed and competent, and capable of relating to many different kinds of folks. Able to hear what they say, to understand what they mean, and to somehow conclude from that mess of opinions and perspectives what ought to be done next."

Her eyes narrowed. "Try to find people like that."

Barely waiting for a reply, Lenoren made to open the door for them, then turned around once more, a hand on the knob and a grin on her face.

"Find good ones."

* * *

Zurres crossed the small, sunlit room with a few strides, coming to stand by the window that looked out onto a verdant courtyard.

Joonster's eyes followed her without visible expression.

"It has gone very smoothly." Zurres's voice was outright smug. "Naydeer and Pramus have been arrested. And dozens of others, at the break of dawn. The recoursors from Varoonya had come to Shebbetin in the guise of merchants, and then went through the whole settlement in one swift move, arresting everybody on their list. Before anyone had time to give warning, to hide documents, or to run away."

Zurres shifted the map under her arm to the other side. It held her hand-drawn sketches of Shebbetin, the location of the guards' houses, the interior of certain villas. She would not need them anymore. But the recoursors had returned them to her anyway.

Joonster stood stiffly by the door. "Will Naydeer be punished?"

"No. We don't do punishment anymore. We're past the age of the Feudals, after all."

Zurres met Joonster's gaze and realized that more of an answer would be needed. "Naydeer will have to make amends. She will be given ample time and opportunity to come up with suggestions for that herself. However, if she does not offer, or if her offers stay way below what would be appropriate, eventually there will be a court decision. Which will be implemented even without Naydeer's consent."

"She should make amends," Joonster repeated tonelessly. "How?"

Zurres crossed her arms over her chest. "Usually, a good start for the offender is to ask the hurt parties what matters most to them. What they want. What they feel would help them now, to live on." She tilted her head. "Then it depends. On what those harmed have to say. In some cases, the apology, the remorse, the healed relationship is most important to them."

Zurres cleared her throat. "But with Naydeer, certainly one thing that will be expected is that she pay reparations. For having violated basic safety standards in her mines, as well as decency of working conditions and pay. Causing death and injury to countless people."

Zurres's lips were a thin, pale line. "Her mines will not reopen until some new owner has improved them. All her property has been frozen. I don't expect anything much will remain after compensations have been paid. Her wealth is gone, back to the people who have created it."

"That is not a punishment?" Joonster's voice was impassive.

"No. The reasoning is completely different. Punishment is meant to cause pain. Restoration is meant to ease pain."

A beam of light fell in through the window and painted patterns of leaves onto Zurres's robes.

"No one here wants to hurt Naydeer," she said. "But we do want to support those she has harmed, even if Naydeer does not like it."

Zurres arched an eyebrow. "And most of all, we want to ensure that it won't happen again. That the structure in Shebbetin changes."

Joonster regarded her stoically. "Will Naydeer ever get out again? Of that place where she is kept now."

Zurres's eyes narrowed. "I don't know. It depends on how she behaves, and on how trustworthy we all judge her to be. Most people go free again. But perhaps Naydeer will be under guard for the rest of her life. In a nice, agreeable place; but unable to leave, unable to do harm."

The past welled up inside Zurres, unbidden. Her hand clenched into a fist. "Like it was done with the Feudals at the time of the Transition. They had to be kept in exile, under guard. They were too dangerous. Maybe Naydeer is like that."

Zurres sat down on a bench by the wall. She had learned a lesson about old age recently, and there was no choice but to abide by it. Her body needed rest, whatever her mind had to say about that. She leaned her head against the solid stone.

"Naydeer's power is gone. She has no mansion, no mines, no social standing in Shebbetin. All the owners have turned their backs on her. Naydeer may even be glad for an offer of seclusion in the countryside."

Joonster watched her without comment. But then he did ask another question. "What about the mage?"

"Pramus cannot be held responsible for the mines or the accidents. And otherwise, he has done no harm anyone could put a finger on. We cannot condemn someone just for having been friends with Naydeer. Nor for having created scary illusions. Ever since the Transition, people are supposed to know for themselves not to believe in such things."

She let her lids fall shut, avoiding Joonster's eyes. But she spoke on quietly. "We were only able to arrest Pramus because there are already other charges against him. For which he will be facing a court soon."

Her eyes opened again. "I don't know if Pramus and Naydeer will forever be held in seclusion, under supervision. But even if not. They can never go back. Naydeer has lost her wealth, and Pramus his patroness. Their position and status are gone."

Zurres leaned forward, her gaze locking with Joonster's. "They hold no power now."

* * *

The wind tapped against the window of the new snuggery.

Olfwer's eyes narrowed and his body tensed, ready to fight, to run. But Herun only cradled the little sister in his big arms as she bit him, amidst wild screams and flailing legs. Herun kept on crooning softly to her. He simply sat there, large and calm like a mountain, endlessly patient, an unwavering presence. The girl's wails transformed into deep heaving sobs, and she let her tears run free as she curled up into a ball. She pressed her face into Herun's belly, like a small animal rescued by a warm den. Holding her safe in his embrace, Herun gently hummed on.

Olfwer sank back onto his heels. Crouched in the corner, he still observed, weary-eyed, wondering. But he did join in with Herun's hum, very cautiously, to see what that would do. It loosed a deep breath from his lungs, for one thing.

Before it could do much more, a small laughing whirlwind burst in from the far end of the room. With a practiced fencing move, Yunda lunged out of the kitchen, followed by her eldest brother.

"Look!" She proudly propped herself up in front of the two visitors she had heard coming. Manaam and Cahuan gazed down into a bowl of unbaked dough.

"You may. But only very little!" Yunda warned, and Manaam obediently ran just his pinkie over the rim.

While Manaam was sucking his finger, the younger brother peered out from behind Yunda. Still holding on to the hem of her tunic, he ventured: "Will we have more siblings soon?" His dark eyes searched Cahuan's face.

"Yes," Cahuan smiled. "Very soon. We only need to find you a second parent first. There are many people visiting us in the old Snuggery now, to understand how it works. And two or three of the nicest ones will come over here, one at a time, so you can spend a few days with them and see who you would like to live with."

The boy nodded slowly, his eyes wide.

Yunda wrinkled her nose. "And what happens to the ones that we do not choose? I mean, they may also be very nice. But if we can only have one?"

"They will become parents for other children. There will be many new snuggeries, you know?"

That satisfied Yunda. With gusto, she licked up another—very little!—bit of raw dough and danced off toward the kitchen, the two brothers in her wake.

Manaam waved a silent good-bye at Herun and Olfwer, tucking his arm under Cahuan's as they stepped out the door.

The air was fresh and moist, smelling of spring after the recent breath of warmth that had sent the snow melting. But it was winter still. There would be several hard bites of frost coming their way before the sun truly warmed the earth enough to let seeds and bulbs stir in the depths. Nevertheless. Days were getting longer again, holding a bit more light every morning.

Cahuan and Manaam walked across the meadows, following a path that circled around Shebbetin in a slow, lazy arc. Behind them, halfway up the hill, they could see the two stone houses flanking the old mine. And the wooden bars that now blocked the entrance.

"So now finally Naydeer's mine has a wooden grid over it," Cahuan grimaced.

An eerie silence hung over the place.

Manaam averted his eyes. "Yes. It took that long. That much." The mountains winked at him in the distance, their flanks still covered in white.

Manaam shook his head. "Everything seemed so fixed, so immovable. And it was, in a way. Until it changed."

His lips twisted into a wry smile. "The first mine is closed. And I think the rest will follow, one after the other."

Manaam tugged at his earring. Then he pulled it off, addressing it angrily as it lay in his palm. "The mines will close when the Transition not only comes to Shebbetin, but also catches up with itself in Varoonya. Nobody will want to buy jewelry anymore, not when the true cost is known. People do not wish to look like Feudals, after all. The patent ability to exploit others is not something anyone would be proud of anymore." Manaam stuffed the offending earring into his pocket, into invisibility, into oblivion.

His gaze rose up, traveling across the sky, and over the tangled roofs of Shebbetin. "So much is happening now, on so many levels. We'll get snuggeries instead of mines. And the freed miners are not wasting time. Not while they are still receiving coin from the county."

Cahuan followed his gaze to the crooked landscape of roofs. Here and there, people could be seen climbing across the Mansion's slopes and ridges, taking out thatch, carrying fresh rafters and bundles like purposeful birds following the plan in their hearts long before the word 'nest' had ever occurred to anyone.

"They are good dreamers." Manaam clicked his tongue. "They have made full use of their miners' circles, trying to imagine their futures as ex-miners. As new people. From general visions, they quickly progressed to an actual plan as to which neighbor would help which, forming gangs that rotate from one home to the next to renovate. And even to house the family while the roof is missing."

Manaam whistled softly through his teeth. "I knew it was a good neighborhood, with people talking to each other. But to take it to that level..."

Cahuan grinned. "Yes. You know, sometimes I feel that the essence of the Transition has reached Shebbetin long ago. Or has never been lost. We do know how to be a community."

Manaam's eyes seemed to travel out into the distance, wandering between the golden glints the sun left on windowpanes. "Yes. And maybe some of that spirit will even catch on in our little circle of polite society. Already, conventions are changing. What are the rules? And who makes them?"

He arched his eyebrows. "I have been playing along for ages. But now, the moment has come where I am strong enough to change the rules of the game. More than ever before, I hold the power to determine what kind of behavior is expected and acceptable." Manaam turned around. "What used to be a quirky eccentricity can become the height of fashion now, the obvious thing to do. Such as: treating equals as equals."

Manaam paused to look at Cahuan. He gently ran his finger along her cheek, her hairline. His eyes were dark as they held Cahuan's. "It includes respect for your work. Recognizing that taking care of children is at least as important as taking care of a mine."

He hesitated. With a subtle gesture, he pointed toward the owners' quarter in the distance, to all the posh villas, his own among them. Manaam's voice turned very low as he took hold of Cahuan's hand. "It might also mean that I will no longer live alone in that beautiful big house. That one of the snuggeries might move in, filling the empty rooms with children, and with their parents. If you would like that?"

Cahuan stood perfectly still. Manaam's dark eyes sought her gaze, then hid beneath lowered lashes.

With one small move, Cahuan come so close she could smell the scent rising from his collar. She dipped her nose into his fragrance, whispering into his hair. "And so wealth and power fade away."

Manaam snorted. "To be replaced with something better?"

"Much better!" Cahuan wrapped her arms around his neck. "We'll come!"

Manaam laughed. He squeezed Cahuan hard. His eyes were shining as he murmured into the seaweed strands that protruded from her cap. "This might also mean that you and I will be kissing in public. Now that times are changing. What do you think?"

"I think we could give it a try."

Cahuan licked his lips tentatively, then pulled him down into a warm, endless kiss, entirely happy with their current public of brown, shaggy cows.

* * *

Enim pinned the sheet up on the wall. The writing was neat, beautiful, as good as any kind of calligraphy he could manage.

Enim stepped back, squinting, giving the lines a long, searching look. He wasn't quite sure what was the best wording, the true call.

"Find the miracle workers."

"Find local scribes."

~ ~ ~ The End ~ ~ ~

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