“Rich,” Jess drawled insultingly. “Young. Don’t work for a living, don’t have to, not with family money. Looking for a new thrill. Think you’ll find it here.”

“Will I?”

“Do I care?”

The landlord put Ozzie’s beer down on the counter. “Ignore Jess. The Silfen do.”

That brought some derisive laughter from the customers who’d been listening. Jess scowled.

Ozzie reached for his drink, only to find the landlord’s fleshy hand closing around his wrist. “And how will you be paying?” he asked softly. “Your bank tattoos are no good here.”

“How would you like me to pay?” Ozzie brought out his wallet. “Earth dollars, Augusta dollars, Orleans francs?” He didn’t mention the gold coins in his secure pocket.

“Ah.” The landlord smiled for the first time, revealing yellow teeth. “A smart visitor. That’ll be five Earth dollars, thank you, sir.”

“Man,” Ozzie said glumly. “That’d better be for the beer and the room.”

“Not worth my while to open the door for less than thirty.”

“Thirty, my ass! I’ve only got fifteen in total, and I need to buy some provisions.”

It took another three minutes of haggling, but he managed to get the room, and the beer, for seventeen Earth dollars. He drank the beer as he counted out the money. For a wheat beer it was suspiciously dark, but Ozzie conceded it had a good taste—though he could have done without the slice of lemon that had sunk to the bottom of the glass. The landlord accepted the clean notes happily, and tucked them into his jerkin pocket. “Orion! Take the gentleman out back to his room.”

The kid who showed up was barely fifteen, dressed in long black trousers and an ancient purple T-shirt with a swirling counter spiral hologram of some Total Sense Immersion recording (Ozzie was interested to see that it worked). He had thick, curly, ginger hair that hadn’t been cut for a long time; it actually rivaled Ozzie’s luxuriant growth. Long skinny limbs, a semiwicked smile, freckles, bright green eyes, scab on his elbow—your typical hellbound tearaway. He’d taken hold of the saddle before Ozzie could say anything, struggling to balance it on his bony shoulder. “This way, mister.”

The guest rooms were in an annex at the back, surprisingly clean and well kept. Ozzie walked in to find a simple cot bed and chest of drawers, with a plain white china bowl and a jug of water on the table. A small fireplace was filled with kindling, a stack of cut logs beside it. There was a dreamcatcher web on the wall above the bed, causing him to raise an eyebrow. The first sign of spirituality he’d seen on the planet.

Orion dropped the saddle on the bed, and stood smiling expectantly.

Ozzie produced a dollar note and put it in his hand. “You look like you’re the kind of guy it’s smart for a visitor to know. It’s Orion, right?”

“That’s right, mister.”

“Okay, well just call me Ozzie, everybody else does. I get kind of nervous when people say sir or mister. Was that your daddy downstairs?”

“Hell no, this is Big Bear’s place. I don’t know where my parents are. They went down the paths ages ago.” He didn’t seem particularly bothered by it.

“Right. So who takes care of you?”

A frown creased the boy’s heavily freckled forehead. “I do.”

“Of course, sorry there, little dude.”

“What do you mean, little?”

“I don’t mean anything by it, just the way I talk, is all.”

“Well, okay then.”

“Good. Now I’m going to need some serious guidance around this town, can you like provide that for me?”

“Sure can.” He winked elaborately. “I know where all the girls are; I can help you meet them.”

The reply actually shocked Ozzie. A fifteen-year-old pimp? No—just a kid who’s been fending for himself for too long. Uncomfortable memories of his own time as a teenager on the city streets trickled back into his mind. “No. Thanks for the offer there, dude, but, uh, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Okay. But if there’s anything you need, I know where it’s hid in this dump.”

“I’m sure you do. Right then, what I need is a horse, and maybe some kind of guide.”

Orion tipped his head on one side, viewing Ozzie skeptically. “You here to see the Silfen?”

“Obvious, huh? Yeah, I want to see the Silfen. That’ll do to start with.”

“Oh.” Orion pulled a face. “A pathwalker. It doesn’t work, you know. You can’t just show up and expect it to happen. The paths aren’t like the trains.”

“You think?”

“We get them here all the time, pathwalkers. They start off into the forest all happy and pleased with themselves; then a couple of weeks later they’re back, all dirty and hungry.” For a second he paused, his little face all serious. “That’s if they come back. I never met one who did get anywhere else but lost. But I can get you to the Silfen, no trouble. I know the glades they visit. The near ones anyway.”

“I’ve seen the Silfen many times.”

“Yeah, so if you’re not here for them, or the girls, what are you doing?”

“You got it right the first time, I’m a pathwalker. I want to go deep into the forest and on to other worlds.”

“All right, it’s your money. You get your horse from Mr. Stafford, at Top Street Stables. He keeps a load of animals, not just horses, there’s dogs, venshrikes, and lontrus, too. Keeps them ready for offworlders, makes a pretty packet out of it, and all; but you can haggle him down if you stand your ground. There’ve not been so many folks visiting for a while.”

“Thanks. What about a guide? Do I need one?”

“I told you, I can show you where the Silfen live. I’ve met them, see.” He put his hand down the front of his T-shirt and fished out a small pendant worn around his neck on a black leather string.

Ozzie examined it curiously. It was a teardrop pearl with a strong gold tinge, held inside a mesh of gossamer-fine platinum. Tiny pale blue sparkles bloomed and died beneath its translucent surface, as if it had caged a swarm of Aphelli phospheens.

“Very nice.”

“I’m their friend,” Orion said proudly. “That’s a friendship charm, that is.”

“When did you get it?”

“Years ago. Mom and Dad used to take me camping with them out in the forests when I was little. I played with the Silfen. I like them, even though they’re weird.”

“You used to play with them? The Silfen?”

“Sure. No big deal. They like human kids. Dad says it’s because we’re more like them than the adults are. He always took me with him when he went into the forest. It was like I was his ticket to meet them.”

“What did you play?”

“All sorts of stuff. Tree climbing, swimming, chase. You know.”

“Yeah. So did they show you the paths?”

“No. I told you, there’s nobody who knows where the planet paths are, don’t matter how much they brag they do.”

“That makes sense.”

Orion dropped the pendant back down into his T-shirt. “So you see, I can find them for you. I charge five Earth dollars a day, and you got to feed me, too.”

“I think you should be staying here and earning your keep, perhaps go to school in the day.”

“What do I want to go there for?”

“I don’t know. To get educated, maybe? That’s what happened in those places when I was your age.” There was more he should have said. As a civilized responsible adult, things like what about the social services and medical care. He didn’t, even though it pained him. It was something he’d learned on his wanderings years—decades—centuries ago. Not to interfere—not unless he was witness to some monstrous evil or brutality. He couldn’t be responsible for everyone. Together with Nigel, he’d given the human race unlimited opportunity to live as they wanted. If some chose this kind of life that was up to them. But it was hard to see children living like this, they were having their choices taken away.

“I know what I need, thanks,” Orion said.

“Okay. I’m not the police. When did your parents leave?”