— What was that?

Yakkim had seen it, too. A tube lay atop the table at the head librarian’s station. “Where did that come from?” Yakkim asked. “It wasn’t there yesterday.”

Tupelo frowned. Parsy signaled him to open it.

There was a scroll inside.

“Must be another donation,” Yakkim said.

Tupelo removed the roll of parchment. Parsy, who knew the work of all the master transcribers, did not recognize the hand. “Maybe one of the workmen left it,” Tupelo said. He handed it to Parsy.

“That’s very odd,” Parsy said.

“It’s a play,” said Yakkim. “But I do not know the author.”

Nor did Parsy. Here was the cast of characters, and there the setting. In the palace at Thebes. He studied the page a long time, reading down the lines. The form of the play was unfamiliar. “Where is Thebes?” he asked.

Tupelo had no idea.

“It must be fictitious,” said Yakkim. “There is no such place.” He looked over Parsy’s shoulder. “What do we do with it? Shall we add it to the holdings?”

“I’ll ask around. See if anyone is familiar with it.” He laid it down. Strange title, too. Antigone.

“Antigone? That’s a curious word.”

“It’s the name of one of the characters.”

“It sounds made-up.”

“Indeed.” He looked around. “Well, we have a lot to do. We can look at this later.”

“MACAO, MY NAME is Tasker. I’m a visitor to Kulnar. Never heard you speak before, but the regulars tell me you’re prone to exaggerate.”

“Not this time.”

“Of course. But you really want us to believe you saw a zhoka?”

“Believe as you wish, Tasker. And no, I am not sure that it was a zhoka. It looked like one.”

“What form did it take? Was it flesh and blood? Was it a spiritual entity? A ghost of some sort?”

“It was solid enough.” She signaled to someone in back. “Pakka? Did you have a question?”

“Yes. I’ve been here many times. As you know.”

“I know.”

“Heard you often.”

“As we all know.” That brought a laugh from the audience. Over the years, Pakka had developed into a good-natured antagonist, instantly recognizable to anyone who attended Macao’s events.

“Yes. Well, however that may be, can we assume you are now willing to admit that the world operates under divine governance.”

“I never denied it.”

“You’ve always said all things are open to reason.”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “I have, haven’t I?”

“Do you wish to change your position?”

There was nothing for it, in the light of recent events. “I suppose I shall have to reconsider.”

“It is good of you to say so.”

She smiled. “An open mind is of the essence, Pakka.” It was in fact the beginning of wisdom. Accept nothing on faith. Verify the facts, and draw the logical conclusions. She found herself fingering the necklace given her by the zhoka. “It appears the world is more complicated than we thought.”

The audience, most of it, nodded their agreement.

Tasker was on his feet again. “Tell us,” he said, “why you think this Digger Dunn—that was his name, right?—”

“Yes.”

“An odd name, don’t you think?”

“Who am I to criticize the names of such beings?”

“Yes. Of course. But you say that, despite his appearance, you doubt that he was a zhoka. Would you tell us why?”

She looked out over the hall. It was on relatively high ground, fortunately, and had survived almost intact the floods that had ruined so much of Kulnar. “Yes,” she said. “I will tell you why. Because Digger Dunn warned me about the cloud. Wanted me to warn everyone. To get the word out, to get the city evacuated.”

“But you said he lied about the date.”

“I prefer to think he was simply wrong about the date. It hardly matters. What does matter is that he tried to help. And I—” She trembled. Her voice shook, and tears came to her eyes. “I refused to believe.”

The hall became very quiet.

“Unlike him, I failed to help.”

WHEN IT WAS over, when her listeners had drifted away, she lingered, until only the service personnel were in the room with her, putting out the lamps, checking the fire screens, picking up whatever trash had been left behind. And then they, too, were gone.

The entire business was so fantastic that she would have ascribed it all to too much wine if she could. But the destruction had been real. And thousands had seen Lykonda.

She slipped her necklace over her head and gazed at it.

Incredible workmanship. A tiny silver chain unlike any she had seen before. And a strange circular jewel that glittered in the firelight. She could not escape the sense that it was somehow alive, that it watched her.

Even had she gone to the authorities, they would never have believed her story. Wouldn’t have acted on it if they had. You don’t accede to the wishes of a zhoka. Unless you are very foolish.

Or perhaps unless the zhoka’s name is Digger Dunn.

She sighed and wandered out of the auditorium into the corridor and out through the main entrance. The stars were very bright, and a cold chop blew off the sea. Winter was beginning in earnest.

Pakka and Tasker and several others were waiting for her a few steps away. It was traditional to take the guest speaker out for drinks and a good time after the slosh. But she hesitated in the doorway. Something, a breath of wind, an air current, brushed her arm.

“Challa, Macao.”

The greeting had come from nearby, a pace or two. But she saw no one.

“I’m glad you came through it okay.”

She knew the voice, and tried to speak, but her tongue caught to the roof of her mouth.

“I enjoyed the show,” he said.

“Digger Dunn, where are you?”

“I’m right here.”

She reached out and touched an arm. It was a curious sensation, solid yet not solid, rather like putting her hand against running water. But her hand remained dry. “Why have you come?”

“To say good-bye,” he said. “And to thank you.”

“To thank me? Why would you wish to thank me? I am sorry to say so, but I did not believe you when you told me about T’Klot.”

“You tried. That was as much as I could ask. It’s hard to fight lifelong reflexes”—he seemed to be looking for the right word—“lifelong habits of thought.” And here he used a word she did not understand. It sounded like programming.

“Digger Dunn, can I persuade you to do a slosh with me?”

He laughed, and the sound was loud enough to draw the attention of those who waited for her.

“I’m serious,” she said. “We would be wonderful.”

“I think we would cause a panic.”

He was right, of course.

“I’d better go,” he said.

“Wait.” She removed the necklace and held it out for him. It was difficult because she wasn’t sure precisely where he was standing. “This is yours.”

“Actually,” he said, “it belongs to someone very much like you. And I think she’d like you to keep it.” A pair of lips pressed against her cheek. “Good-bye, Mac,” he said.

She reached out, but he was gone. “Thank you, Digger Dunn,” she said. “Do not forget me.”