Faces came to mind. One was a haughty and disdainful male, the other a concerned but faintly confused female. Both were long and thin with slightly slanted eyes. Their ears had just the hint of a point. They could almost be the faces of Elves, but they weren’t, they couldn’t be. It was Elves that had tried to kill him. Why would they save him? It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t remember clearly, but Sam was sure that hands belonging to those faces had helped him from the forest, seen to his wounds, and installed him in this bed.

Not knowing where he was or who were his benefactors made him nervous. His state of undress only exaggerated the feeling of exposure. As he sat up to look around the room, a steely glint in one corner caught his eye. Chin Lee’s assault rifle leaned against the wall. Whoever had brought him here felt comfortable enough to leave him armed. Or had they?

He crept from the bed and checked the weapon as he had seen the Ork do. It was still loaded. They did trust him. Surely, then, he was not a captive of the Tir Tairngire border guards.

On a stool beside the gun was a pile of clothes. They were not his, but must have been left with the intent that he wear them. He soon found that they fit, he was pulling on the boots that had been tucked under the stool when he heard the soft murmur of voices in the next room. Lacing the footgear quickly, he moved to the doorway to listen.

The door opened onto a large chamber that ran past the bedroom. The speakers were out of his line of sight, somewhere off to his right. Distance and the muffling effect of the curtains and wall hangings made their words impossible for him to quite make out. The tones and cadences were familiar, however. He had heard these speakers before. He knew it had not been in surroundings as luxurious as this well-appointed hideaway, but he could not place them. Curious, he stepped out into the light to get a look.

Three men looked over, startled at the sight of Sam. Two of them were seated and one stood by the large windows that faced onto the forest. The standing man was totally unfamiliar, but the two men in conversation were not.

One man was seated almost full-faced toward Sam, and he stopped speaking in mid-sentence. Sam had only spoken with this man once, but the man’s pock-marked skin and heavy, almost continuous brows were fixed in his memory. It was Castillano, the enigmatic denizen of the Seattle underworld whom Sam had met during his misadventure with Tsung’s shadowrunners.

The other sat not quite in profile. Sam could see his pointed Elven ears and the capped studs of a datajack and a pair of chipjacks on his depilated left temple. Even before the Elf turned, the white shock of hair and familiar black leathers told Sam that it was Dodger, Tsung’s decker.

Another man entered from a side room along the same wall that held Sam’s room. No name came to mind, but Sam recognized him as the male from his recent memories. A wolf trotted at the man’s side. The animal seemed quite at home and unconcerned that its claws clacked on wood rather than scraping on the loam of the forest floor. It noticed Sam in the doorway and padded over. He bent to meet the animal on its own level, recognizing her, too.

“Freya?”

The wolf tossed her head at the sound of her name and licked his face.

“She bites,” said the unnamed man with the familiar face.

‘It’s all right. She won’t bite me.”

As if she understood his words, Freya pulled away from his hands and nipped at them before submitting again to his petting. The others in the room watched without a word. When Sam at last looked up, he met their eyes. Castillano’s stare was grim, but Dodger’s eyes lit with pleasure. The others were indifferent.

“Sir Corp,” Dodger said. “I am glad to see you awake and refreshed from your slumber. We feared that you had taken serious harm. Come sit by the fire and tell us the tale of how you wandered so far from your home.”

Sam gave Freya a last pat and strolled over, taking a vacant chair. The wolf followed behind and curled up near his feet, back to the fire. He looked down at her, trying to buy time. He wasn’t sure what to say. These people had presumably saved his life, so he owed them something. But he had no idea of where he stood.

“Whyever were you running aimlessly through the forest?” Dodger prompted.

“I left Renraku. Now they’re trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“The border patrol. They called me a renegade.”

“You are still muddled from your ordeal and present your explanation poorly, Sir Corp. You were never a member of the patrol so you could not be a renegade.”

“No. The corporation.”

Dodger laughed in disbelief. “Corporations do not levy the death sentence on simple runaways.’Tis a penalty far too harsh. And to chase you here into the Tir… it is unbelievable.”

Castillano tapped his hands on the arm of his chair. “What else you into?”

“Nothing” Sam said, bewildered by the question.

“A lie. Too much fuss.”

“Indeed, a great fuss has been raised and your tale makes no accounting for it. There must be more involved. Sir Corp, you had best tell us who is out to kill you.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t really know.”

“Mayhaps you best take the tale of how you come to be so far from home and tell it whole.”

Sam nodded. It might be best to get it straight. Telling these people might make it easier for him to settle it in his own mind. Haltingly at first, he began with the growing dissatisfaction with Renraku and the frustrated desire to trace his sister that led to his decision to leave the arcology and the corporation behind. He recounted the extraction and its disastrous end, but omitted the names of all participants save Hanae. “So you see,” he concluded, “I really don’t know what is going on. But I’m not so far from home; I don’t have a home anymore.”

“A most lamentable tale,” Dodger said sympathetically.

“Smoke and fog,” Castillano judged.

The Elf gave the man a look of annoyance. “Methinks your verdict harsh. Is it your intent to speak ill of your guest?”

Castillano shrugged.

Dodger turned to Sam. “I have had reliable word from friends in the shadows of Portland. They tell the tale of a Renraku reward for the capture or elimination, preferably the latter, of a pair of renegade employees who stole some valuable company technical secrets.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam protested.

“ ’Tis said that these renegades were extracted by a handful of shadowrunners and driven south. They were alleged to be planning on illegally crossing the Tir Tairngire border.” The Elf paused for a moment. “ ‘Tis but a tiny step to match the descriptions of these renegades to you and your ladyfriend.”