“That’s his sense of humor,” said Leaky.

“Yes,” said Umbo.

“Go and get him,” said Leaky.

“You mean it?”

“I can’t believe you had to go to all this trouble. Of course I want him back, however I can get him. If you dragged him back in a sack without arms or legs, I’d take him. What do you think marriage is, boy?”

“Judging by my parents, it’s not like the two of you. But do you promise—”

“I don’t have to make you any promises at all,” said Leaky. “You’re the messenger. I want my husband back, and I believe you that the man you’re going to bring me is my husband, or as close to him as I’m going to get, and that’s close enough for me. Or if it turns out not to be, then Loaf and I will work it out without some fuzz-faced boy getting between us. Am I clear? Your job is done. This time you succeeded. I want him back. Bring him to me.”

Umbo didn’t answer.

She glanced over and saw that he hadn’t gone. “What are you waiting for?”

“Do you think I’m here on my own?” asked Umbo. “I’m here following his instructions.”

“And now you’ll go back following mine,” said Leaky. “Is it me Loaf wants to come home to? Then he doesn’t dictate terms to me, and he knows it. Tell him to get his sponge-covered face back here so I can decide for myself whether to scream and run away or give him a big sloppy wet kiss on his spongy new mouth.”

“It’s not spongy anymore,” said Umbo. “It’s pretty much almost normal except not, in a creepy way.”

“You’re not helping now,” said Leaky. “I think I’ve done a very good job of shutting up and listening. Now it’s your turn to shut up and go bring me my husband.”

“I’ll tell him that’s what you said,” said Umbo. “I hope it’s good enough.”

“It will be,” said Leaky. “If I said anything different, he wouldn’t believe I meant it.”

Umbo smiled wanly. “You’re probably right. Only . . . I don’t think it’ll be good for you to see him with other people around.”

“Everybody’s out of the roadhouse, if that’s what you’re worried about. But why can’t you bring him back right here?”

“Because to do that I’d have to get him here in the future, and I’d have a hard time sneaking him in.”

“You snuck in?”

“I came in by water and where I am, it’s nighttime and you’re busy in the kitchen so you can’t hear me.”

“You got a soaking?”

“I’ve swum this river before,” said Umbo. “When I come back with Loaf, it’ll be by the road, and I’ll have his face hidden so he doesn’t shock the local people.”

“And when will this magical event happen?”

“I’m not totally precise. But later today, probably.”

“I’m supposed to keep the roadhouse closed up for hours, maybe?”

Umbo gulped. “I do it inside my head and I can’t tell time all that precisely so—”

“I’m teasing you, Umbo, you sweet stupid boy. I’d keep the roadhouse closed for the rest of my life if it’s the only way to get Loaf back to me.”

“Then I think I’ll go now because I don’t want future you to come out of the kitchen and . . .”

And he disappeared.

Umbo came up from the water, dripping and smiling.

“So this time it worked?” asked Loaf.

“I pretended I was you and yelled at her to shut up and listen,” said Umbo.

“That never works,” said Loaf.

“It worked when I told her that if she didn’t, she’d never see you again. She finally believes me and now she says to get you home, no matter what happened to you.”

“She believed you, then? That it’s really me behind this mask?”

Umbo told him what Leaky had said.

Loaf laughed. “She’s right. I’m still Loaf, but she’s still Leaky, and that means nobody bosses her around. Except, apparently, you.”

“She chopped wood for half an hour till she was calm enough to listen.”

“I bet it only took her five minutes.”

“It felt very long.”

“So do you think you can get me back home the same day we left?”

“Yes,” said Umbo. “Take my hand.”

“Yes, sir,” said Loaf.

“And cover your face.”

“I’ll cover my face when we get out on the road,” said Loaf.

“We’re going to make the jump at the edge of the road so we don’t accidentally materialize in a sapling.”

“If we’re not going to jump till we get to the road, why am I supposed to hold your hand?” demanded Loaf.

“Because it’s dark,” said Umbo, “and I can’t see in the dark the way you can.”

“A practical reason,” said Loaf. “Good thinking. Only . . . now I have to wonder. Is this really you?”

Leaky heard the loud banging at the front door. “Whoever you are, go away,” she muttered. “My husband and his idiot-child messenger are coming home and I don’t need company here.” She struggled to her feet—she really had exerted herself with the ax, swinging it too hard and moving too quickly. Now she was a little stiff and she was sure there’d be painful muscles tomorrow.

She made her way through the house and the banging at the door just kept on and on, not so loudly as to suggest damage to the door, but relentlessly, as if the person would never go away without being admitted to the house.

And when she thought of a guest that stubborn, she knew who it was before she even got to the door. My darling Loaf, that fool boy got you here almost before he left off talking to me. I didn’t even have time to get back into the house and unlock the door.

Now she did unlock it, and swung it open, and there he was, his face half-hidden in shadow by a cowl that hung low in front. But she could see at once that something was wrong with the face.

Not with anything else, though. Loaf stood at his full height. She knew those hands, knew that posture, and when he spoke, it was his true voice, only younger and stronger than he had sounded in years. “Hello, my love,” said Loaf. “Nice of you to lock folks out of a roadhouse.”

“I’m saving the big room for my husband and his tame time-shifter. I hear he has a head like an elephant now, and the boy has become very bossy.” She reached up to pull away the hood.

His hand lashed out and caught her by the wrist—but so gently she could hardly feel the pressure of his hand. “Not yet,” said Loaf.

“I can bear anything,” said Leaky.

“But I can’t bear the look on your face if you don’t already know it’s me,” said Loaf.

“Come in then,” she said. “But don’t let go of my hand. I like the feel of you. It reminds me of a man I once slept with.”

“Slept with him a whole lot more than once,” said Loaf, “if it’s the man I’m thinking you mean.”

“What I’m trying to figure out is why that damp-headed boy thinks he’s coming in with us,” said Leaky. “He had his say, and now he waits outside like any other river rat. If he wants to be useful he’ll keep other fools from knocking on the door.”

Umbo backed away. “Don’t let the fact that I’m hungry and thirsty and tired change your plans in any way.”

“Me me me, that’s all the boy thinks of,” said Loaf. “And he ate only yesterday, which was about fifteen minutes ago, so he’s just being whiny.”

The door closed behind them.

Umbo leaned against it and surveyed the street. “The problem with time traveling to get here,” he said aloud, “is that nothing has had time to change since we left.” But it also meant he could go across the street to the baker, who was bound to have something edible in stock, even if it was late in the day for fresh morning bread.

Bread in hand, Umbo took his perch outside the roadhouse. When people first came to the door, he tried explaining that Loaf had come home after long absence, but they looked at him like he was crazy. “I saw the two of you set out this very afternoon,” one woman said, “and if that’s long absence I’m young and beautiful.”