It was Father who opened the door.

“Zuran!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes darted back and forth between Phoebe and me. He was so stunned he did not move, and his mouth hung open an inch.

“We have come because we need to collect some supplies,” I said.

He did not respond immediately, but, when he did, it was in a hiss. “You are not to be in Ka-lik’et.” Anger was beginning to flourish behind his eyes just as it used to when I was a boy and got into trouble. “Do you wish yourself to be arrested yet again?”

I narrowed my eyes back at him. “No,” I replied. “I wish to rescue Venan from his unfounded arrest.”

“What are you talking about?” Again, he looked at Phoebe. He did not look at her judgmentally or with disgust, but he looked at her as if expecting her to break out with an explanation. Unfortunately, he was speaking A’li-uud, and she was unable to comprehend anything we were saying.

“We came to Ka-lik’et because I needed to get a message to Venan,” I explained. “We have been at a hospital treating ill Novai, and I have proof that Venan’s actions, which resulted in the untimely death of our Elder, were justified.”

“You surely do not believe there is any evidence that will justify the death of an Elder,” Father remarked.

Phoebe was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. I knew it was because we were speaking A’li-uud, and she had no idea what was being said, but I also felt a similar sense of discomfort. “May we come in?” I asked. “I do not believe it is wise to be speaking about this out-of-doors, even if it is the middle of the night.”

Father stepped back finally, and he gestured with his arm for us to come in. I entered first with Phoebe’s hand held firmly in mine, and she followed. She was walking tentatively like she was expecting my father to round on her and say she was not welcome. He did not, of course. He closed the door behind us, and I heard a sound on the stairs.

“Zuran!” My mother exclaimed it just as my father had. She was standing on the stairs in her nightclothes with shock on her face and sleep in her eyes. “You are not to be here!”

“It is nice to see you again, too, Mother,” I commented lightly, offering her a small grin.

She did not return it. “Zuran, I already have a son in prison. Please do not make it so I have two.”

“Mother, I understand your concern, but I am already here,” I pointed out. “Now, we need to collect some supplies to enable us to leave stealthily without being discovered.”

“What do you need?” Father asked.

Mother finished descending the stairs and came over to me. Even though she was clearly displeased that I had snuck into the city, she was still glad to see me. She wrapped her arms around me in an embrace before turning to Phoebe. “You have brought a human,” she observed to me.

“Yes,” I said. “And I think she would appreciate it if we spoke English.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Mother immediately apologized, now speaking English. She was still looking at Phoebe. “I hope you do not think us rude.”

“No, I don’t,” Phoebe responded timidly.

Mother walked to her. I expected her to incline her head in traditional greeting, or possibly step up close to analyze Phoebe with detail. To my surprise, she pulled Phoebe into her arms in an embrace much like that which she had given me, though not nearly as tightly. When she stepped back, she said, “I hope he has not involved you in something illicit.”

Phoebe shot a look at me. “No,” she said again. “I volunteered. I wanted to help.”

“You wanted to help our son?” Father asked. “Have you met him?”

I grinned, realizing Father was poking fun at me, but Phoebe missed the insinuation and assumed he was referring to Venan. “Not officially,” came her reply. “But I have become very close to Zuran over the past few weeks, and I could see how important it was to him. I thought I would be able to offer my assistance with the medical knowledge I have.”

Mother and Father looked between each other. Father looked doubtful, but Mother looked delighted. It was evident she was aware of the spark between Phoebe and me, which I did not mind. Mother had always been intuitive.

“You have come to help Venan?” she asked. “How do you intend to do that?”

“I needed to get a message to him,” I told her just as I had Father. “He has asked that his trial is moved up.”

Now, when Mother and Father met eyes, there was alarm. “Why would he do that?” Mother demanded.

“He intends to enter a guilty plea,” I explained. “He believes he deserves whatever punishment the Council deems appropriate.”

Father shook his head, and he said, “I have never condoned your illegal activities, Zuran, but I commend you on your loyalty to your brother. What do you need from us?”

“We need to scale the wall,” I announced. “We snuck into the city by distracting the guards last night, but it was not an optimal choice for its risk and potential failure. I am hoping you will have something that can help so we can lower our chances of being caught.”

“If I remember correctly, we still have some of your old things out back,” Father said. He even smiled a little. “Your things from your days as a rogue.”

It amused me to think my parents had rogue contraband in their possession, but I nodded. I had assumed as much; Mother was quite sentimental and rarely discarded anything related to her children. I turned to Phoebe and asked softly, “Do you mind waiting here?”

“Of course not,” she said quietly.

I looked at my mother and silently begged her with a gaze not to make Phoebe uncomfortable, then I followed my father out of the house to the back where a small shack they had built when I was still very young waited. A number of lost and forgotten items had made the shack their home over the years, and I was sure I would be able to find something that would help us.

Father led me in, and he talked as he did. “I do not know what is going to happen to Venan,” he said, “and I do not know what is going to happen to you, but you seem different. Changed.”

“Do I?” I asked nonchalantly, beginning to rifle through the stacks of baskets, shrunken clothing, various tools, and other miscellaneous items.

“Yes.” I could feel Father looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but I refused to turn and look back at him. “I believe it may be the human.”

“Her name is Phoebe,” I informed him. “She is a nurse.”

He nodded, and, again, I could see an almost-smile tugging on his lips in my peripheral vision. “You care for her?”

“What makes you ask that?”

He put a hand on top of the pile I was beginning to shuffle through to stop me. Then, he said, “Son, I still look at your mother the same way you just looked at Phoebe.”