Umbo’s hands flew to his head, as if to hide both sight and hearing at once, to hide from his own memory, but failing to hide from anything.

“No,” he said. “No, I wasn’t going to hurt him!”

“You feel like your life can’t even begin as long as Rigg is with us,” said Loaf. “You think I didn’t see, feel how you rejoiced when you were able to maneuver things so that Rigg went off by himself, and left you with the whole group?”

“That’s not how it happened!” cried Umbo.

“No, because you weren’t counting on Olivenko being the next leader, were you. He didn’t even want to be leader, but everybody followed him instead of you. Because here’s what you don’t get, Umbo. You don’t get to be boss of the troop because you want it so much and hate the person who has the job. You get to be boss of the troop because you’re fit to do it—or if you get the job, and you aren’t fit, then the whole troop suffers. The whole troop dies. If you weren’t thinking like a chimp, Umbo, you’d realize: Instead of trying to get Rigg out of your way and resenting everything he does, you should be trying to prepare yourself to be as valuable to the troop as he is.”

“How can I!” cried Umbo. “He had his—father, Ramex, the Golden Man—he was trained for everything, and I was trained for nothing—”

“Fool,” said Loaf. “But now you’re just being a baby instead of an alpha male, and I don’t slap babies. Ramex trained Rigg, yes, to prepare him for Aressa Sessamo, for life in court, and that’s why Rigg was able to thrive there. But Ramex didn’t prepare him for anything since then. He didn’t prepare him to get through the Wall without the jewels, he didn’t prepare him for Vadeshfold, he didn’t prepare him for Odinfold, because he didn’t know he was coming to these places. How do you think Rigg managed so well?”

“I haven’t managed anything,” said Rigg. “You have. Olivenko has, but I don’t even—”

“I don’t slap fools, either, but shut up,” said Loaf. “Listen to yourself, Rigg. You tell me that I was prepared for things, and I was. Olivenko, too. That’s what makes you the natural leader of this troop—you see the strengths in the other members and you use them, you rely on them, you don’t insist that everything has to be your idea, that you have to be boss of everything, make every decision alone. You don’t resent us for knowing things you don’t know and doing things you can’t do, you’re grateful we did them and then you go on.”

Loaf tugged on Umbo’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his head, where he was still using his hands as if to shield himself. “It’s what you should have been doing, Umbo. Being glad that there were people who could do things you couldn’t do, that needed doing. And then being glad when you were able to contribute the things that only you could do. As an officer, I can tell you—a squad of men who think and act like Rigg, they’ll prevail in battle, they’ll survive to fight another day, and even if they die, they’ll take a terrible toll on the enemy, because they aren’t at war with each other, they’re acting as one, as something larger than a bunch of terrified, selfish alpha males trying to climb all over each other to stand on top.”

“You should talk!” cried Umbo.

“I am talking,” said Loaf.

“He’s talking about you and Olivenko,” said Rigg. “Sniping at each other the whole way out of Aressa Sessamo.”

“Yes,” said Loaf. “I thought of him as a toy soldier. I didn’t see his value. So what? Eventually I did. Before that, we weakened each other. But when we passed through the Wall together, when he went back into the Wall as quickly as I did, and ran as fast to rescue you, Rigg—then I knew his worth, and we were together then. Isn’t that right, Olivenko?”

“We still sniped at each other,” said Olivenko. “We still do.”

“But we trust each other,” said Loaf.

“True,” said Olivenko.

“Snipe at Rigg all you want, Umbo,” said Loaf. “He could use a little deflating now and then, when he puts on that lofty Sessamoto voice. But you have to let people deflate you, too, and not take such white-hot umbrage at everything, not want to kill anybody who does something better than you.”

“I don’t want to kill anybody!”

“No, you don’t want to want to kill us,” said Loaf. “But your body wants it. That alpha male brain, that unevolved, uncooperative human, that utterly selfish adolescent who hasn’t yet learned how to attach himself to a group and contribute to it instead of ruling over it. That’s who I’ve been slapping, to get him to shut up and let the human being in you come to the front and take charge of your life. Are you so stupid with rage that you can’t see how much we value you and need you? How much respect we all show you? Rigg especially, Rigg more than anybody.”

“Nobody respects me,” said Umbo, and he cried again.

“I’m just not getting through to him,” said Loaf. “This boy needs to have a hole drilled in his head so I can let the demons out.”

“He’s hearing you,” said Rigg.

“And your evidence is?”

“He’s hearing you,” said Rigg, “because he knows you love him, and he loves you. He’s hearing you even though he’s still too proud to let you see it. So let’s stop talking about Umbo and get back to what we’re supposed to do now.”

“Do?” said Olivenko. “What can we do?”

“The Odinfolders have been lying to us, hiding things from us. I still don’t know what their plan is. I don’t know what they intend to do with us.”

“You mean besides stealing our genes and trying to implant them in time-traveling mice?” asked Olivenko.

“That’s it!” cried Rigg. “That’s what I don’t get. It’s been bothering me—if time-shifting is a thing that only the human mind can do, Loaf, then how did the Odinfolders develop a machine that can pick up objects and put them down anywhere in space and time?”

“That’s an interesting question,” said Loaf.

“Yes, that’s why I asked it,” said Rigg.

“And now I have an answer for you,” said Loaf. “Because I asked the mice, and they already know.”

“Know what?” asked Olivenko.

“That there’s no such machine.”

“But the jewel—they put it where I could find it,” said Umbo.

“No, Umbo,” said Loaf. “The Odinfolders aren’t lying. They think there’s a machine. But there never was.”

“What, then?” asked Umbo. “How could they think there’s a machine when—”

“They’ve seen a machine,” said Loaf. And he started to laugh. “Who knew that mice could have such a penchant for theater? The Odinfolders have seen a very lovely machine that whirrs and flashes, just like the machines the Odinfolders used to build until Mouse-Breeder shifted their whole civilization over to humanized mice. But it’s not the machine that does the thing.”

“It’s the mice,” breathed Olivenko.

“They are also descendants of Ram Odin,” said Loaf. “They also have those genes. And they’ve had hundreds and hundreds of generations in which to breed them true. They can’t time-shift themselves. They can only move inanimate objects. When they try to move living things, they die. Many mice gave their lives in proving that. But they have precision we can only dream of. And they have to have hundreds of mice working together to do it. Rather the way Rigg and Umbo had to work together in order to time-shift, when they first figured out they could do it at all.”

Yes, thought Rigg. Umbo and I began all this when we found out that we could do things as a team—a troop—working together, neither one more valuable than the other. And the trouble started when Umbo and I each learned how to do it on our own, and we didn’t need each other so much anymore.

“So now I have to tell you something that happened almost as soon as we left the library to fly here,” said Loaf.

“Something the mice told you?” asked Rigg.