“Yes,” said Olivenko.

“Also close enough to harm her, if I chose,” said Umbo. “So apparently she trusts me.”

“No matter where you are,” said Olivenko, “you could harm her if you chose. Yes, she trusts you. Or at least she hopes she can trust you, which is about as close to trust as powerful people ever get. There are so many incentives for betrayal. It’s a lonely life. She wants you to share it with her. Partly for reasons of state. Or mostly. But I think she believes it will also be a tolerable thing.”

But the way he said it made Umbo think that Olivenko thought that Param thought that it might be better than tolerable.

“I still have that adolescent crush,” said Umbo. “I’m better at hiding it, that’s all.”

“Not so very much better. Disguising it as surly resentment fooled only two people: Param and you.”

That was the first time it had ever occurred to Umbo that maybe all his feelings of resentment were not really directed at Rigg. They were really there because as long as he thought he could feel sorry for himself because Rigg was always the leader, he didn’t have to feel sorry for himself because Param would never love him.

“I wish I could go back in time and explain to myself why I was so angry all the time,” said Umbo.

“Would you have believed yourself? And even if you did, could you have stopped?”

“If I couldn’t have stopped then, why can I stop now?” asked Umbo.

“Because she asked you to marry her, you fool,” said Olivenko.

“It’s going to be a very complicated life,” said Umbo.

“What do you mean?” asked Olivenko.

“Being married to the Queen-in-the-Tent.”

“Oh? Are you going to be married to her?” asked Olivenko.

“But . . . she asked me.”

“Yesterday,” said Olivenko. “And since that moment, have you even spoken to her?”

“I don’t . . . I couldn’t . . .”

“She asked you to marry her, and after a day you still haven’t answered her.”

“But she didn’t ask me. She just announced it. As if everyone already knew it was going to happen.”

“Was she supposed to kneel and beg you to cross her threshold? Give you the key to her house? Pull a symbolic tent over both your heads? Those are the traditional ways, but can you tell me which of those a princess of the Sessamids should use in asking an ignorant privick like yourself to be her consort? She was asking, and you haven’t answered.”

“So this whole lecture you gave me—”

“I believe I used a series of pedagogical queries—”

“Was designed to get me to tell her yes or no?”

“Absolutely not,” said Olivenko. “If you had been too stupid to understand any of this, I would have gone to her and begged her to rescind the offer.”

“And then what?” asked Umbo. “Would you have killed me for her, to get me out of the way?”

“Don’t ever ask questions that can only be answered one way, no matter what the truthful answer might be. It will make you doubt your friends. And that, in case you were wondering, was a lecture.”

“I was joking.”

“But because you asked it, no matter how fervently I said that I would never kill you and she would never ask me to anyway, you would always wonder. In fact, you’ll wonder anyway. What a stupid thing to do to yourself.”

Umbo saw his point. He felt the point, because the question was already gnawing at him. “I notice you haven’t said you wouldn’t kill me.”

“And I never will say such a stupid thing,” said Olivenko. “Because if you ever posed a real danger to her, I would kill you, if I could. So if I denied it that would be a lie. And you’d know it was a lie. But I tell you this, Umbo. You have earned my trust, and hers too. When she was at her most obnoxious, you never went back in time to harm her. Never did anything that had to be undone—only her brother did that. The whole time she’s known you, you’ve had the power to harm her at any time, and she’s given you plenty of provocation. But you have never raised a hand against her, and never abandoned her. Even when you thought she loved me, you didn’t use your power over time to interfere.”

“I can’t take any credit for that. Rigg would have just gone back and stopped me.”

“Before he had that facemask, did he have the power to do that? If you had wanted to go to war with Rigg, wouldn’t you have defeated him easily, in the days before he learned to go back in time without your help? You were the most powerful, and you’re still more powerful than Param or me or Loaf—have you ever used that power to harm any of us? To harm anyone at all? Can Rigg say as much?”

“He did what he had to do.”

“But you never felt you had to do such a thing. Hurt and angry, over and over, you never once harmed anyone with your power.”

“I damaged the mice,” said Umbo, thinking of the way he and Param had warned the Visitors.

“You acted to save the human race on Earth from extinction, or so you thought. You really can’t get away from being labeled as a person who can be trusted.”

Umbo felt these words as praise. As honor. He hadn’t understood how hungry he was for such open signs of respect; the emotion of relief and gratitude that filled him threatened to bring him to sudden tears. To deflect it, he turned to his old standby—resentfulness. “I’m not sure if that means I’m good or merely weak,” said Umbo.

“We all know that you’re good,” said Olivenko. “Annoying, but good. That’s my lesson for today. It’s really the only thing you had to learn before you leave with Loaf to take him home.”

“And that means there’s really only one thing I have to do,” said Umbo.

“Then go and do it.”

“Only I should have done it yesterday,” said Umbo.

“If there’s anyone on Garden who never has to say such a thing, it’s you,” said Olivenko, “since you still can do it yesterday. But if I were you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” asked Umbo.

Olivenko made a twirling gesture with his finger. Turn it around. Answer your own question.

“Because she’d know that I hadn’t thought of it till later, and only went back in time so she wouldn’t worry about it, but it would still be dishonest. I only realized I needed to answer when you told me, and I should be able to admit that to her, if we’re really going to be husband and wife someday.”

“Pretty soon you won’t even need me to tell you to answer your own questions yourself,” said Olivenko. “Though I’m always happy to provide that service.”

Umbo found Param sitting in the grass by the riverbank, leaning against a sapling, with Rigg only about a meter away. They both looked despondent. Only it wasn’t Rigg, Umbo remembered. It was Noxon. Though Noxon had as many memories of their friendship together as the one who was still called Rigg.

“Before you ask,” said Noxon, “I’m not getting the hang of this at all. I should have her teach you first. Only I’d hate it when you picked it right up.”

Umbo had an instant answer. Several of them, actually. But he remembered that he wasn’t here to talk to his friend. He was here to talk to the woman he loved—the woman who had asked him to marry her, and had heard no response from him at all, and now wasn’t even looking at him.

So Umbo ignored Rigg completely. He knelt in the grass in front of Param—and, because he was Umbo, and not the hero of a great story, he knelt on a root and yelped in pain and had to catch himself to keep from falling over and Param couldn’t help but get a little smile on her face and Umbo felt a stab of embarrassment and he realized that a year ago—a week ago—yesterday—he would have resented her for it and it would have deflected him from what he came here to do.

But he refused to be that version of himself. There are two Umbos as surely as there are two Riggs, but in my case, only one of them can be visible at a time. From now on, I decide which one it’s going to be.