The Finisher

Duf was a Beast Trainer, one of the best in all of Wormwood. Well, actually, he was the only one in all of Wormwood, but he was still very good. Wugs brought him their beasts and he would teach them to do what you wanted done. He had a large wooden corral with smaller spaces fenced off inside it where the beasts were kept separate from one another.

As I cleared the path and reached the cottage, I paused and studied the beasts Duf had currently. There was a young slep, which made me think Thansius would soon be replacing one that pulled his carriage. There was also an adar, taller than I was, with wings twice my height. They were used to carry things and perform tasks by air for Wugs who owned them. Adars could understand what Wugmorts said, but they had to be trained to obey. And they could also talk back once they’d been trained, which can be both helpful and a great bother. The adar had one leg chained to a peg buried deeply in the ground so it couldn’t fly away.

There was a small whist pup, barely ten pounds in weight, with gray fur and a small, scared face. This hound at full size would be larger than me, but it would take at least a half ses- sion for that to happen. Whists naturally liked to roam. They could outrun pretty much anything, including garms and their even more vicious cousins, the amarocs.

Then I turned to the largest creature Duf had now. The creta already weighed about half a ton, though it wasn’t full- grown. It had horns that crossed over its face, huge hooves 54 the size of meal plates and a face that no Wug would like to see coming at him. It was kept in an inner corral where the wood was much thicker. The space was small too, so the creta couldn’t get a running start and crash through this bar- rier. It would be trained to pull the plow of the Tillers and to carry sacks of flour on its back at the Mill. It seemed to know this would be its plight in life, because it did not look very happy as it pawed the dirt in its small space.

“Wo-wo-wotcha, Vega Jane?” I turned to see Delph stooping to come out of the hole in the hill. I walked over to join Delph as his father came out of the cottage.

Duf wore boots caked with dirt, and his clothes were not any cleaner. A grimy bowler hat was on his head. Strings attached to it were tied under his chin. I assumed he did this in case of windy lights or temperamental beasts in training.

His hands, face and exposed arms were scarred and scabbed from innumerable beast encounters.

“Good light, Vega,” said Duf. He pulled a stick bowl from his shirt pocket, stuffed it with smoke weed and lighted it with a wooden match he had stuck behind his ear. He puffed to get the flame set and strong. His face, in addition to the wounds there, was heat- and wind-burned. He was not really that old, but his beard was thick and dotted with gray. It was not easy, his life.

“Hello, Duf.

” “What brings you round this early?” he asked curiously.

“Wanted to talk to Delph. Is that slep for Thansius?” Duf nodded. He pointed his stick bowl at the creta.

“Now that there scallywag is giving me trouble. Aye, he’s a 55 stubborn one that. But then cretas always are. Give me an adar any light, though once they learn to talk proper, they carry on like a bunch of females round the washing. But I have a soft spot for ’em. They’re good beasts. Loyal they are, if chatty.

” Delph said, “I’d be st-stubborn t-t-too if I knew I’d be c-c-carrying stuff me whole life on me ba-back.

” “You best be jawing with Delph, then,” said Duf. He picked up a leather bridle and marched off to the corral.

I watched for a sliver and then turned to Delph. “I need to talk to you about something important. And you can’t tell anybody. Promise?” He didn’t seem to be listening to me. He stared up at the Noc, which was still there in the brightening sky. “How f-far you re-reckon i’tis?” I looked at the Noc in frustration. “What does it matter? We’ll never get there.

” “But th-that sh-shows it, right?” “Shows what?” And now Delph was about to gobsmack me.

“N-not just us, don’t it?” “Why?” I asked, in what can only be described as a whis- per, a fierce whisper, for I was feeling things I had never really felt before.

Delph apparently did not notice the struggle going on inside me. He said, “It c-can’t be just us. I mean why, y’know? Ju-just Wor-Wormwood?” He shrugged and smiled. “No p-point, really. Just this? No ble-bleeding p-point far as I c-can see.

” 56 Since he seemed to be in an introspective mood, I decided instead of talking about Quentin, I would ask a question.

“What happened to you, Delph?” I asked. “When you were six sessions old?” His shoulders immediately bunched and his face scrunched and he did not look at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s none of my business, really.

” But I was hoping beyond all hope that he would talk about it.

“I li-liked Vi-Virgil,” he mumbled.

“He liked you back,” I said, surprised that my grandfa- ther’s name had come up.

“His . . . E-Event.

” His head suddenly looked far too small to hold all that was going on in there.

“What about it?” I said, quickly thrown by his statement.

“I . . . I s-s-saw it.

” That’s when it occurred to me that whatever happened to Delph coincided with my grandfather’s Event.

“What do you mean you saw it?” I asked, my voice grow- ing louder with fear and surprise.

“S-saw it,” he repeated.

“The Event!” I said, more loudly than I should have. “His Event!” I glanced quickly over at Duf, who was still attending the slep. He had looked my way but then turned back to his task.

Delph nodded mutely.

In a low voice I asked, “What happened?” “The Event. The Event ha-ha-happened.

” 57 “No one has ever seen an Event, Delph.

” I was desper- ately trying to keep the panic I felt from my voice. The last thing I needed was to scare Delph off.

“I ha-have,” he said in a hollow voice tinged with dread.

“Do you remember what happened?” I said as calmly as I could, though I still felt my heart thudding against my chest.

It hurt. It actually hurt.

Delph shook his head. “I . . . I don’t re-re-remember, Vega Jane.

” “How can you not remember?” I demanded.

“It’s not good to witness an Event, Vega Jane,” he said clear as light. There was an underlying sorrow to his answer that made my heart hurt even more. Though his words were simple, I felt like I had never heard Delph speak so eloquently.

He touched his head. “Does no good to you here.

” He next touched his chest. “Nor here.

” My heart went out to him, but my next blunt words came from my head, not my heart. “How can you say that if you don’t remember what you’d seen?” I had raised my voice again and I caught Duf looking over at us with concern on his small face. I looked back at Delph and lowered my voice. “Don’t you see why I have to know? All I’ve ever been told was that he suffered an Event and there was nothing left.

” Delph picked up a spade and struck the ground with it. I could see his huge hands gripping the wooden handle so hard they were turning red.

“Ca-ca-can’t say nothin’,” he finally replied. He lifted up a spade of dirt and dumped it next to the hole.


“Why not?” 58 That’s when I heard it — the turn of wheels. Thansius’s carriage came into view around the curve. The same vile Wugmort was driving it. Thomas Bogle had been Thansius’s driver for as long as I could remember. His cloak was black, his hands were huge lumps of bone and his face looked like he had died many sessions ago. The pale flesh hung from his cheeks like shredded parchment as he stared at the shiny flanks of the sleps.

The carriage stopped next to the corral, and the door opened.

I gasped when I saw her.

59 S E P T U M Morrigone Morrigone was the only female member of Council. In Wormwood she was the female. Taller than I was, slender, but not frail, for there was strength in her shoulders and arms. Her hair was bloodred, redder than Thansius’s cloak. She strode over to where Delph and I stood.

She was dressed all in white. Her face, her skin and her cloak were all flawless. I had never seen a cleaner Wug in all of Wormwood. Against the white cloak her blood hair was a dazzling sight.

Wugmorts greatly respected Thansius.

Wugmorts dearly loved Morrigone.

I could hardly believe she was here. I glanced at Delph, who looked like he had swallowed the creta whole. I looked at Duf. He still held the rope but appeared to have forgotten about the young slep tied to the other end of it. The slep whinnied as it caught sight of the mature sleps, along with its own future, I imagined.

I did the only thing I could do. I turned to Morrigone and waited for her to speak. Was she here to see Delph? Duf? Or me? I studied her face. If there was perfection in all of Wormwood, I was looking at it. I felt my face flush under the dirt on it. I felt ashamed I was not better looking. And more clean.

Most Wugs are much of muchness; it’s hard to tell one from another. Not Morrigone. I found her gaze on me and I had to glance away. I felt I was unworthy to share even a look with her.

Morrigone smiled at Duf, who had dropped the rope and walked toward her with hesitant steps. Delph had not moved.

His feet could be in the hole he was digging. As big as he was, he looked small, insignificant.

“Good light, Mr. Delphia,” said Morrigone in a melliflu- ous tone. “That slep appears to be a splendid specimen. I look forward to seeing another fine example of your peerless skill once he’s in harness.

” Her speech was as perfect as she. I wished I could speak like that. Of course it would never happen. I didn’t know how old Morrigone was, but I didn’t think her Learning had stopped at twelve sessions.

She next walked over to Delph and put her hand on his shoulder. “Daniel, I hear only good reports from your labors at the Mill. We appreciate your prodigious strength so very much. And if it’s possible, I think you’ve grown a bit since I last saw you. I am sure your competitors in the next Duelum will shudder to hear that.

” She handed Delph three coins as I looked on in surprise.

“For the work you recently did at my home, Daniel. I believe I forgot to pay you.

” 61 Delph nodded slightly and his big fingers closed around the coins and they disappeared into his pocket. Then he just stood there like a great lump of iron, looking mightily uncomfortable.

Morrigone turned and walked over to me. In her look I knew that I was the reason she was here. And that meant I had been followed. My mind swirled with possibilities and pitfalls. I think she read all this on my face. I looked up at her and tried to smile. But there were so few reasons for Wugmorts to smile I found I was out of practice. My mouth felt lopsided.

“Vega, what a pleasant surprise to find you here so early in the light,” she said. The remark was innocuous enough, yet the questioning tone implied the desire for an answer for my presence here.

“I wanted to see Delph about something,” I managed to say.

“Really, what was that?” asked Morrigone. Her words were unhurried, but I sensed urgency behind them.

I knew if I hesitated, she would know I was lying. But while Morrigone may have been one of the elites of Wormwood and someone I deeply respected, there were few who could lie as well as I could. The real skill was to weave in something true with a lie. It just sounded better that way.

“I gave Delph my first meal last light. He promised to give me his this light.

” I looked over at Delph. Morrigone did the same.

Delph gripped the spade like it was the only thing tether- ing him to the ground. I braced myself for Delph to say something stupid and ruin my perfectly good lie.

62 “G-g-got no food for Vega Jane this li-li-light,” Delph stammered.

I turned back to Morrigone. “It’s okay. I have something to eat before Stacks.

” Morrigone looked pleased by this answer. “You have a reputation for making such fine things. As good as Quentin Herms, I’m told.

” Morrigone disappointed me with this tactic. It was a little obvious. As I looked closer at her, I saw a slight wrinkle at the left corner of her mouth. Not a smile line; it was going the other way. This calmed me for some reason.

I said, “Quentin Herms has gone. No one in all of Wormwood knows where he is. At least that’s what I was told.

” “You were at your tree last night,” said Morrigone.

My suspicions on being followed were just confirmed.

I said, “I often go there. I like to think.

” Morrigone drew a bit closer to me. “Do you think about Quentin Herms? Are you sorry he has left us?” “I liked working with him. He was a good Wugmort. He taught me how to be a Finisher. So, yes, I am sorry. I also don’t understand where he could have gone.

” “Do you perhaps have a notion?” “Where is there to go other than Wormwood?” I said, using the same tactic I had employed with Thansius. How- ever, Morrigone’s next words took me by surprise.

“There’s the Quag,” she said.

Duf snatched a breath and exclaimed, “Quentin Herms ain’t no fool. Why in the name of all of Wormwood would he go in the Quag? Load-a bollocks, ask me.

” 63 Duf shot an anxious glance at Morrigone and his face sagged. He tugged off his old stained bowler, revealing a thick spread of dirty, graying hair, and looked thoroughly embarrassed. “Beggin’ pardon at me language, uh . . . females,” he finished awkwardly.

Morrigone continued to stare at me, apparently awaiting my response to her comment.

I said, “Going to the Quag means death.

” As I said this, I thought of the look on Quentin’s face as he ran into the Quag.

She nodded, but did not look convinced by my state- ment, which puzzled me. “So you have never ventured near the Quag?” she asked.

I said nothing for a sliver, because while I had no problem with lying, I didn’t like to use the skill unnecessarily. It had nothing to do with morals and everything to do with not get- ting caught.

“Never close enough to be attacked by a beast that lurks there.

” Morrigone said, “But my colleague Jurik Krone informed me that you were down by the edge of the Quag at last first light.

” “I heard screams and saw the attack canines and Council members. I followed them out of curiosity and also to see if I could help somehow with what they were doing. Before I realized it, we were near the Quag.

” “And you told Krone you saw nothing, no one?” “Because I didn’t,” I lied. “I know now that it was Quentin they were after, but I still don’t understand why.


” I wanted Morrigone to keep talking. I might learn something impor- tant, so I said, “Why were they chasing him in the first place?” 64 “Good question, Vega. Unfortunately, I cannot answer it.

” “Can’t or won’t?” I said, before I realized I had said it.

Duf and Delph caught breaths, and I thought I heard Delph hiss a warning at me. Morrigone did not answer me.

Instead, she motioned with her hand. I heard the creak of carriage wheels. Bogle guided the sleps and carriage back into view.

Morrigone didn’t board right away. Her gaze flitted over me.

“Thank you, Vega Jane,” she said, using my full name, like Delph did routinely.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.

” “You were more help than you know.

” A bittersweet smile accompanied this comment, which for some reason caused my stomach to do flips.

She disappeared inside the carriage. In less than a sliver, it was gone.

“Har,” gasped Duf.

I couldn’t have agreed more.

65 O C T O Inside a Book When i turned back to Delph, he was gone. I glanced over at Duf, who still stood there gaping at where the carriage had been.

“Where did Delph go?” I asked breathlessly.

Duf looked around and shook his head. “Mill, most likely.

” “So what sort of work does Delph do for Morrigone that he gets coin in payment?” I asked.

Duf looked at the ground, stubbing a rock with his heavy boot. “Lifting stuff, I ’spect. Delph does that real good. Strong as a creta, he is.

” “Uh-huh,” I replied, trying to think what Delph really did for the coins.

“What happened to Delph when he was six sessions, Duf?” I asked.

He immediately looked away. He seemed to be gazing at the young slep, but I knew he really wasn’t.

“You best get yourself off to Stacks, Vega. If another Wug don’t show up for the hand stamp, no telling what Domitar will do, the great insufferable git.

” “But, Duf?” “G’on, clear off, Vega. Nuff has happened. Just let it be.

” He didn’t wait for another response. He simply strode off. I stood there for a bit, wondering what to do. I kicked a few clods of dirt back into the hole. Delph might be gone, but I did have some time before Stacks. I made up my mind quickly.

I would go to Quentin Herms’s cottage.

I looked at the sky to see the clouds had covered it like a cot blanket. I thought the rains would be coming soon. We got them this time of session. When they came, they stayed for a long time. I imagined Quentin struggling through the dark Quag and then feeling the cold pellets of moisture com- ing down. But perhaps Quentin was already dead. Perhaps the Quag had lived up to its reputation.

I picked up my pace, imagining that Domitar would be on the lookout for anyone who did not come in on time.

I hurried along, keeping a watchful eye out for signs of Thomas Bogle and that mighty blue carriage. I thought back to what I might have said to Morrigone that would make her believe I had told her something useful. She was so smart that perhaps it was what I didn’t say that gave her what she needed.

I slowed down. In another few yards, I would be there. I decided to approach the cottage from not the front or rear, but the right side. This had the most cover, with bushes and a couple of trees nearly as large as my poplar. There was a low fence of piled stone that ran around the small patch of weedy grass that constituted Quentin’s property. I jumped this and landed lightly in the side yard. I heard birds in the trees 67 and little creatures roaming the bushes. I did not hear car- riage wheels.

This did not make me any less suspicious. Or less scared.

But I swallowed my fear and moved forward, keeping as low as possible. I thought of what would happen to me if I were found here. They would believe I was in cahoots with Quentin. Whatever laws he had broken, they would believe I had helped him do so. They would also arrest me for breaking into his cottage. I would be sent to Valhall. Fellow Wugmorts would hurl spit and curses at me through the bars while Nida and the black shuck looked on.

I scampered over another low wall and dropped to the ground. Directly up ahead was the cottage. It was made of stone and wood, with dirty windows. The rear door was only a few feet away. I ran to a window on the side of the cottage and peered through it. It was dark inside, but I could still see if I pressed my face firmly to the glass.

The cottage was all on one floor. From this window I could see most of the inside of the place. I moved to another window, which I judged would let me see into the only other room there. This was Quentin’s bedroom, though there was only a cot with a pillow and blanket on it. I looked around but I saw no clothes. And the old pair of boots that he always wore to Stacks was not there either. Maybe that’s why Coun- cil had assumed he had gone off on his own accord. He had packed his clothes. A Wug didn’t do that if he’d been eaten by a garm or suffered an Event. I tried to remember if Quentin had been carrying a tuck with him when he went into the Quag, but I couldn’t be sure. I’d really only seen his face.

68 I took another deep breath and headed to the rear door.

It was locked. That was not surprising. I defeated the lock with my little tools. I was becoming quite a cracking law- breaker. I opened the door and moved inside, closing it behind me as quietly as I could manage. Still, it seemed to make a sound like a creta slamming into a wall. I was shaking all over and felt ashamed for being so scared.

I stood up straight, drew another long breath and willed the shakes away. I was standing in the main room of Quentin’s cottage. This was also his library, for there were some books on a shelf. It was also his kitchen, for there was a fireplace with a blackened pot hanging in it. And it was also where he ate his meals, for there was a small round table with one chair.

On it was a wooden spoon, fork and knife on top of a plate made of copper. All neat and orderly, just like my friend had been.

As my eyes adjusted to the poor light inside, I focused first on the books. There weren’t that many, but even a few books were more than most Wugmorts possessed.

I lifted one book out. The title was Engineering through the Sessions. I looked inside the pages, but the words and drawings were too much for my feeble mind. I pulled out another book.

This one puzzled me. It was a book on ceramics. I knew for a fact that Quentin hated working in ceramics. I did all the fin- ishing on ceramics at Stacks because of that. So why would he have such a book? I opened it. The first few pages did indeed deal with ceramics, and I looked at sketches of plates and cups in vari- ous colors and styles. But as I kept turning the pages, I found something else. A book inside a book.

69 The title page brought a chill to my skin: The Quag: The True Story.

This inner book was not printed. It was on neatly cropped parchment and handwritten in ink. I turned through some of the pages. There were words and precisely hand-drawn pic- tures. And the pictures were truly frightening. Some were of creatures I had never seen before. They all looked to be things that would eat you, given the chance. Some made the garm look downright cuddly.

I looked to see if the author’s name was anywhere on the book, but it wasn’t. Yet surely Quentin must have written this. The conclusion spawned from this was equally shocking: He must have gone into the Quag before the time I had seen him do it last light. And come out alive.


I slipped the Quag book out of the other and stuck it in my cloak pocket. What was contained in the pages would fulfill my curiosity but nothing more. Quentin Herms had no one to leave behind. He was free to try his luck in the Quag. I was not, even if I could have mustered the courage.

I was Vega Jane from Wormwood. I would always be Vega Jane from Wormwood. At some point, I would be planted in a humble grave in a quite ordinary section of the Hal- lowed Ground. And life here would go on here just like it always had.

The next moment I heard a key turning in a lock to the front door of the cottage.

I slipped behind a cabinet and held my breath. Someone came into the room, and I heard the door close. There were 70 footsteps and low murmurs, which made me realize there was more than one Wug about.

Then a voice grew loud enough for me to recognize and with its rise, my heart sank to the floor.

It was Jurik Krone.

71 N O V E M The Reward I tried to force myself into as small a ball of flesh as possible as their footsteps echoed over the wooden floor.

Krone said, “We have found nothing useful. Nothing! It is not possible. The Wug was not that capable, was he?” I could not hear the other voice clearly, but what I could discern seemed vaguely familiar.

“The ring is the puzzlement for me,” said Krone. “How came it to be back here? I know they were friends, close friends. But why would the accursed Virgil not leave it to his son?” The voice murmured something else. It was driving me mad that I couldn’t tell what was being said or who was saying it. And why had Krone used the word accursed in defining my grandfather? Krone said, “He’s gone into the Quag, that we know.

And I believe that Vega Jane knows something about it. They were close. They worked together. She was there that very light.

” The other voice said something, in an even lower tone. It was as though the other Wug knew someone was listening.

Then Krone said something that nearly made my heart stop.

“We could tell them it was an Event, like the others. Like Virgil.

” I had to stop myself from jumping out and screaming, “What the bloody Hel do you mean by that?” But I didn’t. I was paralyzed.

The other voice murmured back in reply but I could not hear the words.

I knew it was risky but I also knew I had to try. Fighting against my seemingly dead limbs, I eased forward on my knees. There was a bit of looking glass on the far wall. If I could just stretch out enough to see if there was a reflection of Krone and the other Wug in — The door opened and closed before I could move another inch.

Throwing caution to the wind, I leapt up to find the room empty. I raced over to the window next to the front door and looked out. Disappearing around a corner of a hedge was the blue carriage.

How did I not hear the clops of the sleps as they approached the cottage? Or the turn of the wheels? Was it Morrigone in the carriage? Or Thansius? But who said what paled next to what I had just heard.

The words were imprinted on my brain. “We could tell them it was an Event, like the others. Like Virgil.

” That clearly meant that the idea of an Event was a lie to cover something else. If my grandfather had not vanished from an Event, what the Hel had happened to him? Well, Krone knew. And so, I’m sure, did Morrigone and the rest of Council. This destroyed everything I had ever believed in, everything I had been taught. This made me wonder what 73 Wormwood really was. And why we were all here. I felt so wonky, I thought I might topple over. I relaxed my breathing and slowed my heart. I did not have time for wonky. I had to get out of here.

I was halfway out the window when the front door opened once more. I didn’t look back, but the heavy boot steps told me it was Krone. He didn’t call out, which meant he hadn’t seen me. Yet.

I slid out on my belly and hit the ground hard. I involun- tarily yelped.

“Who’s there?” roared Krone.

I was over the low wall and out of sight of the cottage probably before Krone had even gotten to the window. I have never run that fast in all my sessions. I didn’t slow down until twenty yards from the entrance to Stacks, when I plunked down in the high grass, totally out of breath, my mind reeling from what I had just heard.

A few slivers later, I rubbed my hand after Dis Fidus stamped it. He looked like he had grown a session older since Quentin vanished. His aged chin quivered, making the gray- ish stubble there appear to be floating against his sallow skin.

“You mustn’t be late, Vega. I’ve set out water for you at your station. The heat is already fierce this light from the furnaces.

” I thanked him and hurried in, still rubbing at the ink on my hand.

The book weighed heavily in my cloak pocket. It was stupid to bring it here, but I didn’t have time to go anyplace else. Where could I hide it that no one could find it? Yet even 74 though I knew I had to part with it, I was desperate to read the book from beginning to end.

I stuck my cloak with the book in my locker and made sure the door was securely fastened. I put on my apron, work trousers and heavy boots before going to the main work area.

With my goggles dangling around my neck, I slipped on my gloves and stared at the high pile of unfinished things next to my workstation. I knew it would be a long light’s work. I sipped the cold water that Dis Fidus had left me and began my tasks, working my way through them methodically, read- ing parchment after parchment of instructions and then improvising when the written directives allowed me to. I worked hard and tried to stay focused even with all the thoughts swirling in my head.

Before I realized it, Dis Fidus was ringing the bell that told us it was time to start packing up.

I was about to change out of my work clothes when we were urgently summoned to the main floor of the Stacks. I hurriedly closed my locker and rushed there.

Domitar came out and stood in front of us as we lined up.

We all waited as he paced back and forth, while a frightened- looking Dis Fidus hovered in the background. Finally, Domitar grew close enough for me to smell the flame water on his breath. I could only imagine that Council had come down with great force on him. And knowing Domitar as I did, he was about to take whatever pain he had suffered out on us.

Thus, I was shocked by his first words.

“Council has ordered that there shall be a reward,” he began.

75 Though we were all knackered from our labors, this got everyone’s attention.

“Five quarts of flame water. A pound of smoke weed.

” He paused for effect. “And two thousand coins.

” A gasp went up among us.

I had no use for the flame water or smoke weed, though I supposed I could barter them for a good deal of eggs, bread, pickles and tins of tea. But two thousand coins represented a vast fortune, perhaps more than I would earn in all my ses- sions at Stacks. It could change everything about my life. And John’s.

Domitar’s next words, however, dashed any hope I had of earning that fortune.

He said, “This reward will be paid out to whoever pro- vides sufficient information to Council to apprehend the fugitive Quentin Herms. Or it will be paid out to the Wug- mort who personally catches Herms and brings him back.

” The fugitive Quentin Herms? As I looked at Domitar, I found his gaze upon me.

“Two thousand coins,” he repeated for emphasis. “You would no longer need to work here of course. Your life would be one of leisure.

” I looked around at the males. They all had families to support. Their faces were blackened, their hands gnarled and their backs bent from the toil here. A life of leisure? Unthink- able. As I stared at their hungry, exhausted faces, it did not bode well for Quentin.