The key at the top didn’t make any sense, either. Instead of cardinal directions, the compass was labeled Truth, Hidden, Missed, and the last one was just a question mark. In the bottom left-hand corner of the map was a bunch of tiny print even the halfling’s better-than-good eyesight couldn’t make out. She zoomed in until the words were big enough for her to read the first line: If you want a little somethin’ for your troubles, better think outside the map and take a hint.
gu@rdi@n104’s officially a total psycho. Wrinkling her nose, Cheyenne scrolled up to start reading the rest of the apparent directions at the bottom of the map. Then someone knocked on her door.
She pushed herself away from her long desk, the executive office chair beneath her rolling backward across the plastic mat. Her hands gripped the armrests, and she stared at the front door of her apartment. In almost four years of living here, no one had ever knocked on her door. I don’t even order delivery. What the hell?
The knock came again—polite and quick, but a little louder this time. The halfling froze, then she heard the whispering on the other side of the door.
“Maybe she isn’t home. We shouldn’t be bothering her if she isn’t home.”
“I’m telling you, R’mahr, I saw her from the front window. Walking right out of that…thing. With the wheels.”
“A car, Maji.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Bryl. Try again.”
“What if she doesn’t want to be bothered? We should respect her—”
“Knock on the door, or you’ll be cooking your own borshni for the next week.”
Another brisk, succinct knock came at the door, and Cheyenne frowned. It’s like these trolls want to be disappointed.
The halfling got up out of her chair and moved quickly toward the front door.
“Yadje, maybe you only saw her—”
When Cheyenne opened the door, the trolls stopped bickering and whipped their heads toward her to flash wide, crooked grins.
“Cheyenne.” R’mahr’s dark-purple cheeks seemed to get darker than the rest of him. “Hello.”
The halfling raised her eyebrows and glanced from one of her neighbors to the next. Little Bryl didn’t cling to either of her parents this time but instead stared intently at the drow halfling on the other side of the door, a basket covered in bright-orange squares of cloth weighing down her arms. “Uh, hi. Everything okay?”
Yadje smiled a little wider, taking in the sight of the very human-looking young woman with pale skin and black hair standing in the doorway. Her gaze settled on Cheyenne’s upper arm. “You’re not wearing the armband.”
“Oh.” Cheyenne glanced at her own arm, then remembered how much of herself she hadn’t explained to her neighbors earlier that morning. “No. It helped a lot, so thanks. I just put it away to keep it safe. You came back to get it, right?”
“Oh, no. Please.” R’mahr waved her off. “You keep it for as long as you need.”
“I only needed it to drag that orc out of your living room. Hold on. Lemme get it.” The halfling turned away from the door, paused, then stuck her head out into the hall and glanced in either direction. “Should you guys be standing out here without…you know. Your illusion spells, or whatever?”
“Our own…oh.” R’mahr chuckled and shook his head. “That’s very good, Cheyenne.”
“She doesn’t know.” Yadje turned toward her husband and cocked her head. “And she doesn’t need it.”
“Oh, if she wants to keep it a little longer, Yadje, let her.”
“I didn’t say she doesn’t want it. I said she doesn’t need it.” Yadje stared at her husband with wide eyes and gestured at Cheyenne. “And she doesn’t know about illusions.”
“She doesn’t…no, no. Now, don’t talk to me in riddles in front of our neighbor. You know I don’t like having to guess—”
“We’re wearing them.” As soon as Bryl spoke, her parents stopped their argument and glanced down at her with self-conscious smiles.
“Okay.” Cheyenne smiled at the troll kid, suddenly very aware of how much younger Bryl was than the kid they’d found in that church. And he had been young too. The halfling blinked and looked back at R’mahr and Yadje. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”
“Illusions,” Bryl answered for all three of them. “Ours are made for friends to see us and everyone else to see…not us. Not really.”
“Right.” The halfling nodded. “That makes sense.”
“But you didn’t know this.” Yadje shot her a quick frown, part curiosity and part intense skepticism. “And you’re not wearing the armband.”
“Yeah, you pointed that out. So I’ll just go get that real fast.” One more time, the halfling turned from the door, then stopped awkwardly. “You guys are welcome to come inside if you want.”
Bryl grinned and peered around Cheyenne at the huge desk covered in blinking lights and monitors and keyboards and whirring fans inside the halfling’s custom towers. R’mahr nodded vigorously. “That would be excellent—”
“No.” His wife smacked his arm, and he went from nodding profusely to vigorously shaking his head. “That’s not how we offer gifts. We’ll wait.”
“Of course.” R’mahr cleared his throat, then shared a knowing glance with his daughter. The child giggled and shook her head, trying to hide her expression by nearly burying her face in the basket she held.
Completely caught off-guard, Cheyenne turned awkwardly toward her backpack against the half-wall, acutely aware of the three trolls standing in her doorway and watching her grab the armband they’d lent her. She got it out quickly enough and almost jogged