"Oh, that," Sylvia said. "They're just making your cabin disappear."

"They're what!"

"Not literally, of course," Sylvia assured her. "You may have noticed how narrow the side roads were that you drove along earlier today. The Laborers are merely brushing away the gravel at those intersections and quick-planting bushes across them. Even if Roger finds someone willing to listen to his story, he'll come back to find that none of the drives he described are there anymore."

Caroline felt her stomach tighten. "Clever," she managed.

"Deception has always been a part of warfare," Sylvia said with a shrug. "One of the many aspects of my Gift."

"An interesting Gift," Caroline murmured. "May I ask what you intend to do with me?"

"Nothing sinister, I assure you," Sylvia said. "You'll be kept here until it's all over, then be allowed to return to your home."

Caroline's throat tightened. "Assuming Manhattan is still there."

The lines in Sylvia's face deepened. "What exactly would you have us do, Caroline Human Whittier?" she demanded. "You speak as if we weren't the ones the Grays tried to exterminate, setting fire to our forest and coldbloodedly shooting as we tried to escape the flames. Should we simply lie down and die to keep from inconveniencing your people? Or should we make a stand and defend ourselves and our loved ones? What would you do in our place?"

"I might worry a little more about the innocents caught in the middle," Caroline told her. "Three thousand people died when the twin towers went down. How many buildings and lives are you planning to destroy in your defense?"

"Don't misunderstand me, Caroline," Sylvia said stiffly. "We're Warriors, not butchers. We will not inflict any more damage or death than necessary to protect our people. But if it comes to a choice between Green survival or a few lost Human lives... well, there is no choice there."

"Even if those lost humans are your own friends?" Caroline persisted.

"I have no Human friends," Sylvia said. "As a matter of fact, before I met you and Roger, I'm not sure I even knew any Humans by name."

"You're joking," Caroline said, looking at the other in surprise. "How long have you lived here?"

"I was one of the original refugees," Sylvia said. "Oh, and I knew Velovsky by name, too. But he was about the only Human I knew before you two."

"How in the world did you manage that?" Caroline asked, still not quite believing it. "I thought all of you moved into the city together."

"All except for a small group who came here," Sylvia said. "Leader Elymas wasn't entirely happy with the idea of living in a city, so he sent our group to look into the possibility of a more permanent home."

"I thought he died before you even left Ellis Island."

"He did, but he'd seen the Farseers' visions and knew what to expect," Sylvia said. "Actually, to be precise, it was his son Nikolos who relayed his instructions to us. Leader Elymas was too far gone to speak during his final hours, and Nikolos was the only one who could still communicate with him and interpret his messages."

"What do you mean, interpret?" Caroline asked. "I thought you have a direct mind-to-mind link."

"We do, but some things transfer better than others," Sylvia said. "Words and simple sentences usually work, and emotions are seldom misunderstood. But images and abstract ideas can be difficult, both to send and to receive. Sometimes only those who know each other well can manage it without distortion. Pastsingers and Farseers do much better than the average, of course, but they're a small minority."

"I see," Caroline said, nodding. "I've been wondering why you bothered with speech at all."

"If we could communicate clearly and consistently without it, we would," Sylvia said. "At any rate, I've sent for some food, and then you'll be taken to your room."

"Thank you," Caroline said. "I'm still not clear as to why you haven't had more contact with humans.

Don't you like us?"

"I neither like nor dislike you," Sylvia said candidly. "It's simply that I've spent my life here in the woods, preparing this place for future generations. I just never got around to making contact with the locals."

The door opened behind her, and Caroline turned to see a Green step into the room with a box the size of a half-pound chocolate sampler in his hand. "Your meal," Sylvia identified it. "I'm afraid it's all we have to offer."

"Thank you," Caroline said, eyeing the box dubiously as the Green handed it to her. She opened the lid and found herself gazing at a double row of tubes the size of granola bars and the shape of manicotti. "What are they?"

"Warrior field rations," Sylvia told her. "Designed to keep a Green healthy and strong during long campaigns."

"I see." Closing the box, Caroline set it on the edge of the desk. "I'm sorry, but it won't do."

It was clearly not the response Sylvia had been expecting. "I'm sorry?" she asked.

"I said it won't do," Caroline repeated. "Food designed to keep Greens alive could be dangerous or even lethal to humans."

"Nonsense," Sylvia said stiffly. "Greens eat human food all the time. I ate some there myself, in fact, at Aleksander's. It's never bothered any of us."

"So Greens can eat human food," Caroline said. "That doesn't mean it necessarily works the other direction." She gestured toward the box. "For all either of us know, there may be trace chemicals or vitamin concentrations in there that would kill me." She lifted her eyebrows. "Unless, of course, Nikolos wants me dead."

"Don't be absurd," Sylvia said, throwing a scowl at the other Green. Without a word, he retrieved the box and left. "Unfortunately, as I said, that's all we have."

"I understand that," Caroline said, choosing her words carefully. "But there must be restaurants nearby."

Sylvia barked a laugh. "Of course."

"No, really," Caroline insisted. "Roger won't have called any of the local police—he'll have assumed you already have them in your back pocket. And he can't possibly get up here with anyone from the city until after midnight at the earliest."

Sylvia was staring at her, an odd expression on her face. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Absolutely," Caroline said. "I'm starving, and this is the best way for me to get something safe to eat. I won't make any trouble—I promise. All I want is to go and eat." She cocked her head. "I'll even treat," she cajoled. "Unless you're afraid a Green Warrior can't ride herd on a lone human female."

Sylvia smiled cynically. "No, you don't," she said. "You can't maneuver me into doing something just because I think I'll look weak or afraid. A Group Commander never makes decisions based on emotion."

"Good," Caroline said. "Then do it because your people may retreat here someday, and you'll need as much firsthand knowledge about the area as possible."

The wrinkles in Sylvia's forehead deepened again, and Caroline held her breath. Then, so abruptly that it caught her by surprise, the older woman gave a sharp nod. "You're on," she said, standing up.

"There's a vehicle out back behind the house that I think still runs. You drive."

The vehicle turned out to be a vintage Ford pickup that looked like it hadn't been driven in years. But there was gas in the tank, and with a little persuasion Caroline got it started.

They passed two groups of Greens at their bush-planting party as she drove down the narrow road.

One or two of the workers glanced up as they passed, but no one seemed shocked or even particularly surprised to see their prisoner driving away with their Group Commander.

But then, Sylvia had said these were Laborers. Maybe matters involving Warriors was of no concern to them.

"Which way do I go?" she asked as they reached the end of the drive.

"Left," Sylvia said. "I'm told there's a small diner just before you reach town that might suit us."