It led him across the beach and into the forest of silver leaves and oddly angular branches. His clothes dried quickly while he walked. None of the other ambassadors seemed to notice the sound. He wondered if anyone else could hear it. The summons ceased when he stepped into a small clearing and found his three neighbors there: Jir of the Builders and the Yards, Ca’tth of the Unbroken Line, and Ripe-fruit-dropped-in-sun-baked-mud-and-left-to-sit-content. Ca’tth stood in the center with his shimmering eyes unfocused. He picked up a stick and used it to draw lines and circles in the dirt. The other two stood close by, tense and watching. This looks like a private game, Gabe thought, unsure whether or not to intrude. He drew closer. Jir noticed him. “Get out,” she said, her voice flat and wanting to flatten him. “You put us in danger. To play catch. You aren’t welcome here. Not now.” Her long hair snapped and cracked against the air. “Noxious thing,” Ripe agreed. “No, no, no,”
