Staring upward, she had yet to look at him. “Say what’s on your mind.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what that was. I’m sorry I tried to strangle you? Or What were you thinking? Perhaps he meant Go to hell.

“I’m here to offer a truce.”

“A truce,” Alicia repeated. “Sounds like Amy’s idea.”

“You tried to kill yourself, Lish.”

“And it would have worked, too, if Michael hadn’t decided to be the hero. I’ve got a bit of a bone to pick with the guy.”

“Did you think the water would change you back?”

“Would it make you feel better if I did?” She blew out a breath. “I’m afraid that’s not an option for me. Fanning was pretty clear on that score. No, I’d have to say that drowning was pretty much the goal.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Peter, what do you want? If you’re here to pity me, I’m not interested.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“What you mean to say is that you need me.”

He nodded. “That would be fair.”

“And, under the circumstances, it’s best if we bury the hatchet. Comrades, brothers-in-arms, no division within the ranks.”

“More or less, yes.”

With painful slowness, she turned her face toward him. “Want to know what I was thinking? While your hands were around my throat, I mean.”

“If you want to tell me.”

“I was thinking, Well, if anybody’s going to strangle me, I’m glad it’s my old friend Peter.”

She’d spoken these words without bitterness; she was merely stating a fact.

“I was wrong,” he said. “You didn’t deserve it. I don’t know what’s between you and Fanning. I doubt I’ll ever get it, frankly. But I sold you short.”

She weighed his words, then shrugged. “So, you screwed up. Short of an outright apology, I guess I’ll have to take that.”

“I guess you will.”

She gave him a look of warning. “I said I can get you in there, and I can. But you’re throwing your life away.”

“I’d say it’s the opposite.”

Alicia made a sound that began as a laugh but turned into a cough—deep, hacking. Her eyes clamped shut with pain. Peter waited for it to subside.

“Lish, are you all right?”

Her cheeks were flushed; spittle flecked her lips. “Do I look all right?”

“On the whole, you’ve seemed better.”

She shook her head indulgently, the way a mother might with a hopeless child. “You never change, Peter. Fifty years I’ve known you, and you’re still the same guy. Maybe that’s why I can’t stay mad at you.”

“And I’ll take that.” He stood. “Need anything before we leave?”

“A new body would be nice. This one seems to have run its course.”

“Short of that.”

Alicia thought for a moment, then smiled. “I don’t know—how about another rabbit?”

—

He found his son on deck, sitting on a wooden crate and watching Michael making his preparations on the fantail.

“You mind?” he asked.

Caleb scooted over.

“Where’s Pim?”

“Asleep.” His son turned and gave him a hard look. “Help me understand this.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Then why? What difference could it possibly make now?”

“People will come back someday. If Fanning’s still alive, it starts all over again.”

“You’re going because of her.”

Peter was speechless.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Caleb went on. “I’ve known about it for years.”

Peter didn’t know how to respond. In the end, he could only admit the truth. “Well, you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

“Let me finish. Amy does have something to do with this, but she’s not the only reason.” He brought his thoughts into focus. “Here’s the best way I have to explain it. It’s a story about your father. At the Colony, we had a tradition. We called it standing the Mercy. When a person was taken up, a relative would wait for them each night on the city wall. We’d set out a cage with a lamb inside as bait. Seven nights, waiting for them to come home, and if they did, it was that person’s job to kill them. It was usually the responsibility of the closest male relative, so when your father disappeared, I had to stand for him.”