I nodded. A narrow barrel descended from the ceiling and fired a pulse of blue light at the net. It fell loose.
The Ku rolled to his feet and opened a large compartment on his boost bike. He reached in it and took out a bright red poinsettia. It was growing from a pot wrapped in gold foil.
“This is it?”
He nodded.
“Did you steal it?”
“I bought it.”
“What did you pay with?”
He reached into a pocket in his harness and showed me a handful of small gold drops shaped like tears. Well, someone got lucky today.
“Why?”
He crouched on the floor above the poinsettia, his voice hushed. “It’s like home.”
“Do you miss home?”
He nodded.
My righteous anger evaporated. The universe was very big and the Ku was so very small. “Why did you leave?”
“Adventures,” he said.
“Can you go back?”
He nodded. “When I’m a hero.”
“You know, bringing the message about my sister to me was pretty heroic,” I told him.
“Not enough.” He raised his arms, drawing a big circle. “Big hero.”
He looked at me as if waiting for me to confirm that it was a worthy goal.
“Everyone has a dream,” I said. “You’re brave and kind. You’ll be a big hero one day.”
The Ku smiled at me, showing a mouth full of scary dinosaur teeth.
“Meanwhile, you’re going to stay here at the inn,” I told him. “Don’t try to leave. The inn won’t let you. Let’s go make a nice place for your flower and give it some water. Did you know they come in white, too?”
* * *
Creating a room for a Ku was infinitely easier than crafting the moving ceiling for the Hiru. I’d made a few before I was even an innkeeper, while still living at my parents’ inn. I went with the usual theme of wooden walls, braided together from wooden strips, and three levels; the first being the main floor, the second strewn with floor pillows, and the third a loft nest with a hammock right next to the window that let him look out onto the street. I added a few ropes and a vine swing. By the time we came to the door of his room, Gertrude Hunt had pulled plants out of stasis storage, and garlands of flowering vines and a swing greeted Wing as he came inside. He clutched his poinsettia, dashed up the rope to the loft, and landed in the hammock. Testing all the ropes and the swing would occupy him for at least a couple of hours.
I had just finished settling him in when magic chimed in my head. This chime was deeper than usual. I puzzled over it for a moment and then it hit me. Mr. Rodriguez.
I glanced out of the hallway’s window. A white windowless van politely waited at the end of the driveway. When I went to see Mr. Rodriguez, I did the same thing. I stepped onto his inn’s grounds and waited. When nobody came to throw me out, I went in. I didn’t know what the proper etiquette was, but sitting here making them wait didn’t seem like the polite thing to do.
I went down the stairs, stepped outside, and waved at the van. It reversed, turned, and rolled up my driveway. Mr. Rodriguez got out. He was in his early fifties, with bronze skin and dark hair, touched with gray. A trimmed beard hugged his jaw.
“Dina.”
“Mr. Rodriguez.” I stepped forward and we hugged. That was probably a breach of etiquette, too, but I didn’t care.
A young version of Mr. Rodriguez hopped out of the vehicle on the passenger side.
“My son, Tony,” Mr. Rodriguez said.
We shook hands. Tony seemed to be about my age, with the same dark hair and dark eyes as his father.
“Please, come in.” I led them to the front room. “Would you like some iced tea?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Mr. Rodriguez said.
I led them through the kitchen to the patio. Tony didn’t gape at Orro, but he definitely glanced in his direction.
I settled them on the back porch, went back inside to get the tea, and had to dodge as Orro nearly knocked me over with a platter. The platter contained a pitcher of iced tea, three glasses with ice and a plate filled with tiny appetizers that looked like very small, fried to a golden crispness crab cakes topped with a dollop of some white sauce and green onions.
“Thank you,” I mouthed and took the platter outside.
“Such a beautiful house,” Mr. Rodriguez said.
“Thanks.” I sorted out the tea and sat down.
Mr. Rodriguez and Tony both took an appetizer and chewed.
I tried one. Eating Orro’s food was as close as you could get to nirvana without enlightenment.
“Did everything go well?” Mr. Rodriguez asked.
“As well as it could have gone,” I said and sipped my tea. How to say this without being offensive or trying to imply. “I just settled him in his room. He seems comfortable.”
“Why did he take off?” Tony asked.
“He wanted a flower. It reminded him of home.”
“Ah,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “He’s probably on a hero’s journey.”
“He said as much.” As soon as they left, I would look this up.
“The Ku are a hunter-gatherer society,” Mr. Rodriguez said to Tony.
Tony looked at me with the long-suffering patience of an adult child who knew an educational lecture was coming and there was no way to escape.
“One can distinguish himself by being a great hunter or a great artisan. Those who can do neither sometimes decide to leave on a hero’s journey through the galaxy. They must perform a great deed and bring proof to their tribe. It would bring his family a lot of honor.”