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The dirigible’s main cabin was warm and dry and smelled delicious. Granny Luna had provisioned them generously for the trip, and Amrita didn’t think she’d ever been more grateful to tuck into a still-warm slice of quiche. They didn’t linger over the Mediterranean for very long. As soon as both the rescued passengers were settled with a hot meal, Zani was at the console doing calculations and making notes. She spared a quick look at Amrita.

“Director!” she exclaimed. “You look… fantastic! Your skin is glowing and I love what you’ve done with your hair!”

“Thank you, Zani.” Amrita accepted the blanket Will was holding out. “I’ve always wanted to try dreadlocks. They are remarkably easy to care for.” She fluffed her newly enhanced hairdo. She thought she might try incorporating some crow feathers into it. “What’s our plan for going home?”

“Oh, come on!” Buffalo set down his fork, dramatically. “Are you honestly angling to head straight home? You don’t want to at least go check out Cleopatra’s palace first? I heard Caesar’s there!”

“Buffalo…” Amrita warned.

“At the very least, we gotta go see the pyramids.” Buffalo polished the binoculars on the edge of what was left of his shirt.

Will and Zani exchanged a look.

Buffalo snorted. “Just winding you up, guys. This is not my Roman Empire. I’m ready to go home. Right now.”

“Good,” Will sighed, “because the ley lines were at their strongest when and where we left from today. Our coordinates are still set to originate from Boston and I think, if we book it right now, and go straight there, we might get back in time to catch the end of trivia night.”

“Trivia night?” Amrita stared at him, perplexed.

“In Primrose Court,” he said. “Tonight. At The Wildernest.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was supposed to be there, and I know it would mean a lot to my good friend Dan.”

“Will…” Buffalo pushed back.

“Buffalo and I have been in the ancient Mediterranean for weeks,” Amrita reminded him. “We’re dirty and we’re tired and⁠—”

“I know all that.” Will had a stubborn set to his jaw. “But I wouldn’t have missed my best friend’s opening tonight if you two hadn’t gone AWOL on me. Dan means a lot to me.” He was already adjusting something at the console.

“Fine, but I’ll need to shave,” Buffalo capitulated.

Q: What is the term for the phenomenon in which a flock of starlings moves as a single fluid body, with no leader directing the group?

A: Murmuration.

Each bird responds only to its seven nearest neighbors, following three simple rules: don’t collide, stay close, match speed. No one is in charge. No one has the full picture. The shape that emerges from thousands of individual decisions is more coordinated, more beautiful, and more responsive than anything a single mind could choreograph. Scientists are still not sure why they do it. The leading theory is that it feels, to the starling, like the only thing to do.

—Dan Wilder, The Most Important Question: Fanciful Trivia by Dandelion Wilder

THIRTY-FIVE

FORTUNE’S FAVOR

The Wildernest was packed to the rafters. Quite literally. The squirrels had decided to seat themselves in clusters on the high overhead beams. This was a relief, as seating was at a premium down below and the Ordinaries in attendance were utterly enchanted by what they were calling the “lifelike decor.” Dan just hoped Fidelito and friends didn’t spill nuts on anyone.

He had known it would be busy—Tom Horner’s trivia night events always were—he just hadn’t counted on it being this busy. Even with the help of The Weighted Anchor’s staff working the opening event tonight, he was so busy that he hardly had a moment to take it all in. He had to force himself to slow down and look around thoughtfully so that he could savor the moment and make a proper memory; the crystal glasses catching the firelight, the brass sconces throwing warm gold across the stone, the windows steaming up with the heat of so many folks gathered inside. Every seat and barstool had been occupied since seven o’clock.

On the mantel, just to the left of the sphinx and Leni’s wishes, an oversized trophy sat waiting for its winners. It was a large, classic silver cup with two handles, fitted with a twiggy woven basket made to resemble a nest.

There were many folks from the circuit in attendance, including several that had traveled a great distance to be there. There was also one local “regular” he could have done without. He spied Vance Priest in the crowd. But when he saw the Hell’s Belles chatting him up, he had the distinct sensation that he didn’t need to worry about his old rival causing any trouble tonight,

Tom Horner shook Dan’s hand firmly when he arrived, took one look around and proclaimed, “Great room!”

From Tom Horner this was not only high praise; it was a verdict. He stood at the trivia podium now, reviewing the cards, and rehearsing his spiel. Although many of tonight’s revelers were in costume, Tom was so singular he had no need to come as anyone other than himself. His colorful suit and tortoiseshell glasses were synonymous with his quizmaster character. Tonight’s suit was primarily yellow, decorated with a rubber duck motif befitting the Lucky Duck brand.

Dan glanced at the door.

He had been glancing at the door all evening. Maida and Arthur had managed to grab a table near the back—Arthur without a specific costume but wearing his magnificent crown of antlers, Maida in a colorful patchwork witch’s hat that didn’t quite match her demeanor. Her drink was untouched. Arthur’s hand rested over hers on the table. Dan could guess what they were discussing. The Hell’s Belles had claimed the table closest to the podium, Nell’s blade sitting out beside her drink like a conversation piece. Almost everyone he’d hoped for was already here.

Hopefully, he scanned the faces of the latest arrivals. But the midsized group of Ordinaries, all dressed up as witches and wizards, vampires and mummies was not who he was waiting for. Dan went back to the bar, mixing drinks and assisting the waitstaff.