164
"Yes."
The boy left the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Before the door shut completely, he heard low humming from inside. It was tuneless, yet it made his back tense for an instant.
He retraced his steps at an unhurried pace.
The murals on either side of the corridor twisted in the dim light, the smiling faces in them seeming to grin a little wider.
Near his room, he stopped and took a tiny folded slip of paper from inside his clothes.
The paper's edges were worn, and it bore only a single line of scrawled handwriting:
"Don't let the flame go out."
He stared at the words for two seconds, then tucked the paper into his inner pocket, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.
"Get ready to leave."
He told the two people in the room, "Meet at the docks in an hour."
In the little house beneath the cliff, Cricket poured everyone a cup of hot tea.
The tea was brewed from local bitterleaf, astringent at first, but with a hint of sweetness in its aftertaste.
"Do you know what the Donquixote Family means in the New World?"
The older man did not drink any himself. He simply leaned against the doorframe, looking out at the gradually darkening sea.
"A little."
The boy in the straw hat cradled the coarse earthenware cup. "They're strong, and they're trouble."
"More than 'trouble.'"
Cricket shook his head. "They're monsters perched at the top of the food chain.
The people you detained today might be involved in one of their business operations, or they might just be underlings some officer took on a whim. Or perhaps..."
He paused. "They're bait deliberately put out there."
The room fell quiet, with only the firewood crackling in the