Narrator 1: Sherman is braiding Tzila’s hair. They’re on the couch here in Sherman’s little Highest Light living room, seated together, just loving every moment of this.

Narrator 2: They’re both here. Alive. Everything’s great! Or well, actually a lot’s not actually great at all, but boy, being together again at last, at least, is really incredible.

Narrator 3: What a relief. They have been inseparable.

Narrator 1: So many things are wrong, but this one thing, finally, this is right.

Narrator 3: Tzila was just telling Sherman about all the ways in which Stationary Hill has been wildly transformed by the tearror, but then she switches subjects.

Narrator 2: (Tzila) “Oh, oh, I just remembered another thing about the wail. It kind of sounded like it had a human voice, like it was trying to say words or something? It was the creepiest thing ever. My Zoo-o-Log book made them seem way less scary!”

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “No way, what?! That’s terrifying!”

Narrator 1: Sherman’s heart is just overflowing.

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “You’re so brave. That probably would’ve scared ME.”

Narrator 2: (Tzila) “It WAS scary, but also… so cool. I think it might imitate the sounds that it can hear? Maybe as a kind of bait for prey. Ugh, I wish I had my Zoo-o-Logs with me. I can’t remember what they usually eat. Maybe jellyghouls? But those are silent, so how… Anyway, I clearly need to update the publishers on their drawing, too. The real thing was like right there, like as far away as the window is from us right now, and they’re WAY grosser than the illustration in the book, and they’re HUGE!”

Narrator 3: Sherman cinches off one of Tzila’s braids. (Sherman) “How about this? What if, for your birthday, we take a trip to the zoological gardens on Verdure? Just you and me. They don’t have any wails, but it’ll still be fun, right?”

Narrator 2: (Tzila) “Really? I’ve always wanted to go!”

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “I know, sweetie.”

Narrator 1: Sherman does not say, “assuming we ever escape from this place, assuming we can ever go anywhere ever again.” The front door opens and Saskia enters the little apartment foyer, looking a little windswept.

Narrator 2: (Saskia) “Sorry, that took way longer than expected.”

Narrator 1: She takes off her boots.

Narrator 3: Sherman and Tzila look at her expectantly. She shakes her head.

Narrator 2: (Saskia) “No luck. No one is taking passengers, not even for bribes.”

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “So we’re still stuck here?”

Narrator 3: Tzila looks between the adults worriedly.

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “What about your friend Harry? He got us in here somehow, couldn’t he bring us home? To Midst?”

Narrator 2: (Saskia) “Uh… That was kind of a one-time favor. Harry’s situation is… complicated. I don’t think he can do that again.”

Narrator 3: Saskia and Sherman exchange loaded looks. Tzila still doesn’t know, and Harry was quick to make himself scarce after Tzila showed up, to make sure of that. It’s still too dangerous.

Narrator 1: Tzila crosses her arms. (Tzila) “Ugh. Whatever.”

Narrator 2: (Saskia) “So, yes, we’re still stuck here. Unless someone can come pick us up from Midst, but there’s Company crawling around everywhere down here. Uh, there,” Saskia adds, for their convenience.

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “Speaking of Midst,” Sherman says, getting up from the chair, “What did Goe have to say?”

Narrator 1: Saskia steps into the small galley kitchen and pours herself a glass of water.

Narrator 2: She takes a sip, leaning on the counter. (Saskia) “Actually, Goe’s in the cabaret with me right now. Goe?”

Narrator 1: She quietly stares into space beside the sink, listening.

Narrator 3: Sherman and Tzila wait.

Narrator 2: Sherman ties off another braid. (Saskia) “Mm,” Saskia says, nodding. “Yes, I’m here with Sherman. I’ll tell him.” She comes around to the couch. “So, Goe says he’s gonna check and see what ships are available. The trouble is, even if he could get someone to come up here from Midst, they still have to get IN to the city. The Company has a tight grip on all the docks and shipyards right now while they look for Lark.”

Narrator 1: She stares off into the middle distance again, appearing to examine something warily.

Narrator 2: (Saskia) “They’re patrolling Main Street in Stationary Hill. Right now.”

Narrator 3: Sherman and Tzila both look to the blank wall that Saskia is staring at in the apartment. Gosh, this is weird. Not for Saskia, clearly she’s totally used to this by now. Sherman in particular, still is getting up to speed with her duality. Gotta admit, it’s useful.

Narrator 1: Saskia’s gaze wanders as she examines the faraway street.

Narrator 2: (Saskia) “Things aren’t normal on Midst, but they’re not normal here either. Weepe in charge of everything? The whole Trust on the hunt for Lark? Or ‘Clara.’ I guess.

Narrator 1: Sherman sighs. His Valor-strung abacus, hanging on a hook by the door, glitters accusingly. He hasn’t explained that to Saskia or Tzila yet either.

Narrator 2: Saskia, trying to change the subject to something a little lighter, turns to Tzila. (Saskia) “Do you want to say hi to Bets? She’s not grounded anymore, and was helping Emmet here today. Hey Bets, do you want to say hi to Tzila?”

Narrator 3: But before Saskia can make the connection, Sherman shushes them with a quietly raised hand. He’s alert, listening. (Sherman) “Hang on. There’s someone outside the door.”

[A low, slow guitar is plucked.]

Narrator 2: He’s become hyper-attuned to people tailing him, watching his movements, even though that technically hasn’t happened since he became Valorous — that he knows of.

Narrator 1: As the only person who’s actually supposed to be here in this apartment, Sherman goes to answer the door while Tzila and Saskia move quickly out of line of sight.

Narrator 2: He listens at the door for a moment, then opens it.

Narrator 3: She looks different, but it’s her.

Narrator 2: They look at each other for a long time, not speaking a word, but having a whole conversation with their eyes. Lots to say.

Narrator 1: Saskia and Tzila, hidden around the corner, are starting to get a little confused, a little nervous. Why isn’t Sherman saying anything? Who’s there?

Narrator 2: Tzila can’t resist, and peeks her head out from around the corner. She doesn’t know how to feel about what she sees, except maybe surprised.

Narrator 1: Sherman opens the door a little wider.

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “I guess you better come in.”

Narrator 2: Lark, stepping inside as Sherman closes the door behind her, sees Tzila now. (Lark) “For fuck’s sake,” she says.

Narrator 1: Tzila is immediately on the defensive, clenching her hands into fists. (Tzila) “Shut up! You made it sound like you weren’t coming here! How was I supposed to know?! Did you really think I was going to sit around and wait?! I thought nobody was going to come help him, except for Phineas, and HE’S the one who—”

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “Shh shh shh, sweetheart.” Sherman puts a comforting hand around Tzila’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m right here, I’m fine. We’re together.”

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “Yeah, because of ME!”

Narrator 3: Sherman makes eye contact with Lark. (Sherman) “Tzila told me you two had a fight.”

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “More like SHE dumped ME on Midst by myself!”

Narrator 2: Saskia, who has been listening quietly, steps out of hiding now.

Narrator 3: (Saskia) “Well, not by yourself.”

Narrator 2: Lark takes in the whole scene now. (Lark) “Did I even need to come here? Any other guests I should know about? I WAS coming here to let you know that I have a ship back to Midst all lined up for you, but I bet you figured that out, too. Guess I’ll be going.”

Narrator 1: Saskia and Sherman both light up at this news.

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “What?!”

Narrator 1: (Saskia) “You don’t say!”

Narrator 2: (Lark) “It’s waiting for you right now, not far from here.”

Narrator 1: Tzila looks hyped.

Narrator 2: She’s immediately ready to go.

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “Uh, quick! Let’s go! Dad, let’s go!”

Narrator 2: She’s already scrambling to put her shoes on.

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “Lark, are you coming with?”

Narrator 3: Oh… yeah, no. Her expression makes that abundantly clear.

Narrator 1: Lark shakes her head.

Narrator 2: (Lark) “This ship is for you. Wouldn’t be good for you if you were caught with me.”

Narrator 3: Yeah, getting caught traveling with the universe’s most wanted criminal would be…not good. Tzila is realizing it, Sherman too. They all are.

Narrator 1: Sherman has to hand it to Lark, she’s got a good point.

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “You’re uh, kinda experiencing a lot of heat right now, it would seem.”

Narrator 2: (Lark) “And whose fault is that, I wonder,” Lark says, looking right at him. Now, Lark doesn’t know for sure who turned her in, but she’s got a pretty good hunch. And like we’ve been talking about, her hunches are kind of on another level these days.

Narrator 3: Sherman takes a slow, long, deep breath. (Sherman) “Yeah…” He’s having trouble looking her in the eye, but he forces himself to. God, it’s hard. (Sherman) “…Yeah.”

Narrator 2: Tzila isn’t sure she’s hearing this right. Saskia says nothing, slowly packing her things in the background. Lark is as still as a statue.

Narrator 3: Sherman swallows. (Sherman) “I had to, Lark. They backed me into a corner. It was my only bargaining chip, my only power. I care about you, but it turns out I didn’t even know you. Given the choice between protecting you and trying to provide for my daughter, there’s only one thing I could do.”

Narrator 1: Lark is entirely out of cigarettes, but she would’ve lit one now if she wasn’t. She takes a deep breath of her own and sits down.

Narrator 2: She takes off the glasses she’s been wearing as part of her disguise and rubs the bridge of her nose wearily. (Lark) “Fuze tried to do the same thing, to turn me in. I killed him for it. Did Tzila tell you that, too?”

Narrator 1: Saskia’s gaze flickers. She says nothing. Not to anyone here. Certainly not to anyone on Midst.

Narrator 3: Tzila wipes an angry tear off of her cheek.

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “No. I just hoped maybe you didn’t mean those things you said. That you were just lying to try to scare me away.”

Narrator 2: (Lark) “I was trying to scare you away, but not by lying.” Lark glances at Tzila, and she looks almost remorseful.

Narrator 1: Tzila looks away. Sherman, however, does not.

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “Tzila didn’t have to tell me about Fuze, because Fuze told me himself before he died. He knew what was coming. I didn’t want to believe it at the time, but…”

Narrator 2: Ah, the pieces are all coming together now. Lark shakes her head, almost impressed. (Lark) “Goddammit, Fuze. If I’da known I would be public enemy number one just a few weeks later, I woulda let the poor guy live. We were actually friends, kind of. Once.”

Narrator 1: Saskia hazards a guess.

Narrator 3: (Saskia) “Fuze saw you kill Maximilian Loxlee.”

Narrator 2: (Lark) “Yeah.”

Narrator 1: Saskia shrugs.

Narrator 3: (Saskia) “I don’t care that you killed old Mr. Loxlee. You would’ve had to have been a child when it happened. I’m sure there’s more to the story than what they put in the papers, but Fuze was our friend. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die.”

Narrator 2: (Lark) “No, he didn’t.” She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even try. She looks so tired. (Lark) “I guess I felt like… I didn’t deserve to die either.”

Narrator 1: Tzila’s eyes widen. (Tzila) “Is that what the Trust wants to do with you? Kill you?”

Narrator 2: Lark shrugs. (Lark) “’Course. A life for a life. That would balance their books, wouldn’t it? It would fix everything.”

Narrator 3: Saskia crosses her arms. (Saskia) “I don’t think the Trust can be fixed, especially not with Weepe running things.”

Narrator 2: There’s a lull in the conversation now, a sort of standoff. Everyone looks at each other. Lark sighs. (Lark) “Whatever the solution is, it’s not me coming back to Midst with you right now. You gotta go. The ship can’t wait much longer.”

Narrator 1: It’s time to get moving. Tzila approaches Lark now. Are they friends? Maybe they’re not friends anymore. It’s hard to say.

Narrator 2: Nothing’s easy anymore.

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “You’ve done a lot of bad things, Lark. But you’ve done a lot of good things too. You took care of me when my dad was gone, you saved me from the tearror, you saved me from the wail, and you got this ship for us. I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for you. I just wish the Trust would leave everybody alone.”

Narrator 3: Sherman gives Tzila a squeeze. (Sherman) “Me too. I… I’m sorry, Lark.”

Narrator 2: This is getting a little uncomfortably sentimental for Lark. (Lark) “Look, we really gotta go. We can wrap this up on the way.”

Narrator 1: And so they do.

Narrator 2: Saskia’s already packed. There really wasn’t much. Sherman doesn’t have much with him and clearly he hasn’t been interested in settling in here. Tzila brought nothing from Midst, so it’s just a few things in a duffel, a quick grabbing of coats and shoes, and they’re ready to go.

Narrator 3: Sherman grabs his abacus just to make sure the walk to the shipyard is smooth. He locks the apartment and throws away the key.

[Muted city ambience and wind.]

Narrator 1: It’s a tense, quick walk across the district — a combination of them already having said goodbye, but walking in the same direction nonetheless.

Narrator 3: And it’s like trying to sneak out of a police state via stolen vessel.

Narrator 2: It IS very much like that.

Narrator 3: It’s fraught, so they move quickly and head for the municipal shipyard.

Narrator 2: Lark, heavily disguised of course, shepherds them through some security gates with surprising ease, flashing some remarkably official-looking passes and credential papers at the security people.

Narrator 1: Sherman is both surprised and impressed.

Narrator 3: He catches up to Lark. (Sherman) “How did you manage this?”

Narrator 2: (Lark) “I had some help.” She glances at him a little hesitantly. “I should probably warn you… Phineas is here. He was, uh, part of it. He’s not with the Trust anymore, or so he says.”

Narrator 1: She examines him as they walk.

Narrator 2: (Lark) “I can go ahead, get him out of here, if you want. You don’t have to see him.”

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “No,” says Sherman. “He can stay.”

Narrator 2: They emerge now into the dock of the shipyard, like a spoke on a wheel, jutting out above a twinkling expanse. The air is cool and misty from walls of water cascading off into the void, sweeping smaller twinkling shards of mica away from the assembled group.

Narrator 1: At the end of a row of crates and boxes there sits a small civilian passenger sloop, idling at the ready, oars extended at standby, gangway open.

Narrator 3: A single figure outside of it, preparing for launch. And indeed, it is the former Prime Adsecla of the Trust, Phineas Thatch.

Narrator 2: Lark, Sherman, Saskia, and Tzila approach. The ship hums.

Narrator 3: Phineas’s eyes are downcast — not like he’s trying to hide, but like he’s trying to give Sherman the option of avoiding eye contact.

Narrator 1: But then he catches sight of Tzila, and he can’t help but do a double take — a triple take.

Narrator 3: (Phineas) “What? Tzila?? How did you—”

Narrator 2: (Lark) “She beat us to it,” Lark grunts. “Embarrassing, right?”

Narrator 1: Tzila, clinging to her father’s arm defensively, eyeing Phineas with some guarded uncertainty, says (Tzila) “I didn’t really think about getting back home, though. Did you help get this ship for us, Phineas?”

Narrator 3: (Phineas) “Yeah, of course! Well, Lark and I with some others, we all made it happen, as a team. There are a lot of people that want to help you. I’m… I’m just so relieved to see you together.”

Narrator 2: He steps aside, indicating the open door of the ship, still avoiding Sherman’s gaze.

Narrator 3: But their eyes do meet for a time, and they see each other, and they do not say a word.

Narrator 1: Sherman turns to Lark, to Saskia.

Narrator 3: (Sherman) “Time to go.”

Narrator 2: Saskia shoulders the duffel bag, holding out a hand to Tzila. (Saskia) “All aboard.”

Narrator 1: But Tzila doesn’t move. She sniffles. (Tzila) “Don’t die, Lark.”

Narrator 3: Sherman catches Lark’s eye as well. (Sherman) “Yeah, I’d… rather you didn’t.”

Narrator 2: Lark, uncomfortable, rubs at her left arm. (Lark) “No promises. But you… Go home and have a regular, boring life. Please. For me. I’ll make sure the Trust never bothers you again, because of me or any other reason.”

Narrator 1: Saskia’s head turns.

Narrator 2: That’s interesting. Lark continues, (Lark) “We have something planned. Consider it my apology to you all.”

Narrator 3: The ship’s oars begin to turn. A wind begins to swell around them.

Narrator 2: Sherman, taking the duffel from Saskia, starts up the gangway. Tzila follows, waving, eyes shining.

Narrator 1: (Tzila) “So long, Lark. I’ll take care of Landlord.”

Narrator 2: (Lark) “You’ve got it backwards. You’re in big trouble with him when you get back.”

Narrator 3: Sherman beckons to Saskia, but she does not follow. She stands beside Lark. (Saskia) “You both get home safe,” she says.

Narrator 2: Tzila starts to protest, but Saskia raises a hand, laughing.

Narrator 3: (Saskia) “I’m already there waiting for you, remember? Get home safe, because I’m throwing a raging party at the cabaret when you get back.”

Narrator 2: Not to distract from all these meaningful goodbyes, but Phineas and Lark are both visibly confused. They don’t know about the double-Saskia thing yet.

Narrator 3: Saskia waves. (Saskia) “I’ll stay here, to make sure that the only thing these two screw up is the Trust.”

Narrator 1: The gangway is closing. The oars are swirling. Running lights are blinking on. One last look from Sherman, one last wave from Tzila, and then the ship drops gracefully away, off the spoke with a gust of wind, disappearing quickly behind cloud and crystal.

Narrator 2: No fanfare, no escort, unnoticed by anyone, except for Lark and Phineas and Saskia. Whatever strings Backpack pulled, they worked. Mission accomplished.

Narrator 1: Saskia looks at Lark. She looks at Phineas Thatch. (Saskia) “Got room for one more in whatever this plan of yours is?”

Narrator 3: Phineas squares his shoulders. (Phineas) “I think we need all the help we can get.”

Narrator 2: The trio stands there for a long moment, looking off in the direction the ship disappeared. Lark sighs. (Lark) “Welp, guess we’ve got a bank to bomb.”

Narrator 3: Saskia’s head whips around.

Narrator 1: (Saskia) “Wait, what??”