"Undoubtedly," I said, letting the coat fall back against the wall again.

"Doesn't matter. I feel like I got a fair price and it's not like the masks were doing me any good."

"Any news today?" the boy interrupted, leaning his elbows on my counter. I ducked back behind it.

"Nothing for your tender ears," I answered. "Unless you hadn't heard about Bertha."

"I heard she died," the boy said.

"And I've heard half-a-dozen rumors about it, but I'm not believing any of them yet," I said.

"I wouldn't take your job for the world, Christopher," Lucas told me.

"Well, it isn't for everyone," I allowed. "How can I help you today? Or are we just browsing?"

"We've just been visiting the Friendly," the boy said.

"Oh yes?" I asked.

"They want you to come have dinner. There's a big meal," he added. I glanced at Lucas, who coughed.

"Gwen said they'd like to see you at the camp," he said. "And their storyteller specifically asked about you. He wasn't happy he'd missed you when you visited earlier."

"Well, of course I'll come," I replied. "When did they say they were having it?"

Lucas and the boy exchanged a look.

"In about forty minutes," Lucas said. "Sorry about the short notice."

"Typical Friendly." I grinned. "You two keep an eye on the shop while I get my coat, all right?"

I ran up the stairs and fetched down a coat that I was given two years before – it had been pressed on me by one of Tommy's sisters, who insisted I should be paid for driving Kirchner out to save young Benjamin. Gwen said the blue brought out my eyes, but sometimes I felt it was almost too bright – like when I was walking out to The Pines with Lucas in his deep gray and the boy in a black store-bought parka. Still, the Friendly would be pleased to see me in it and it was excellent insulation against the cold.

By the time we reached the edge of town we could see thin columns of smoke rising from the cooking fires, smudging dark against an already gray sky. The trailers and cars had been arranged in a loose three-quarters circle, designed to block as much wind as possible, and it worked remarkably well: there was a moment when we passed into camp and actually felt the temperature change, the wall of warmer air enveloping us.

Gwen and Tommy greeted us with shouts, and ten-year-old Benjamin tackled me around the waist.

"You didn't say hi last time," he said. "Storyteller's mad with you."

"You big liar, no he isn't," I answered. "I had very important business to attend to. Hi, scrawny, you're growing up too fast."

"Welcome back," he grinned, before grabbing my hand to haul me over to one of the fires. Several chickens were roasting on spits over it, and a nearby flame had potatoes boiling in an enormous pot. With a wave for me, Benjamin ran off.

Seated in front of the many spit-handles was an older man with a hawk-like nose and bushy white eyebrows, a cane hung on the back of his folding chair. He was wrapped in a few layers of blankets and looked like a king surveying his lands.

"Christopher," I said, bending to shake his hand. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Christopher," he replied with a grin. "Come sit with an old man. I didn't see you when we made camp."

"I snuck in," I said.

"And I was hiding from being put to work," he answered. "You, boys, you two, come here," he added to Lucas and the boy. "Can't have too much company when you're doing nothing. Keeps me from being interrupted."

"I don't believe a word of it," I said. "You're managing the whole family from your seat next to the chickens, storyteller."

"If only I had such power," he chuckled. "Come here, Lucas, sit by me if you please."

I dusted off a low wooden bench and sat down on it, the boy claiming the rest for himself in a sprawl. Lucas followed the other Christopher's gesture and sat next to him, perching unsteadily on a rickety folding chair.

"Unlike you, your friend is a very intent young scholar," Christopher said to me. "He comes every day to listen to me babble. He has, if nothing else, learned how to sit very still."

"I'm not surprised," I answered. "Lucas likes to listen. And I'd have come out sooner if I could get away, but the shop – "

"Oh, don't talk to me about shops!" Christopher laughed. "You should have come sooner, Saint."

"I'm here now," I pointed out.

"So you are. With many new stories to tell me, I imagine."

"A few," I said. "What about you?"

"Oh, lad," he said. "You should know by now all my stories are the same."

"Well, we'll see," I said. "Did Lucas tell you he played the Fire Man at Halloween this year?"

Christopher turned his shaggy head to Lucas. "He did not. Nor did you," he added to the boy. "Now, what's all this? You're not ashamed, Lucas? It's a sacred duty, you know."