Page 61 of Guardian of Exile

“You once recited to me, in alphabetical order, every planet that has bioluminescent fungi.”

“I researched it for a science experiment.”

“The point being, I am quite certain you can manage this.”

Morgen sighed and shot Tristen an apologetic look. “Sixty-seven.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Nyx asked.

Tristen shook his head. “I was a kid when I left and I—after a while, I didn’t want to remember anymore.”

Nyx was thinking they were about to have to exhaustively narrow down a list from sixty-seven planets when inspiration struck her. “Do you remember your native language?”

“Why? Can your translator spells identify it?”

“No. Well, I suppose they identify it in the sense that they translate it, but no they can’t tell us what it is. But Morgen’s a polyglot. He understands language structure. I’m sure if he writes down a few sentences, when we get back to Earth Between and archive access, he can trace the language back to your birthplace.” She turned to Morgen. “Right?”

“It might take slightly more work than that, but yes, that’s a brilliant idea.” Morgen patted various pockets, then asked, “Don’t suppose you have a pen a paper?”

Tristen got up, rummaged in the drawer beneath the landline phone cradle—the actual phone was still lying on the living room floor—and returned with a miniature yellow legal pad and a pen that looked like it had been chewed on at some point. Morgen took them both without comment. “I am going to turn my translator spell off.” He tapped the tattoo, sending the spell into its dormant state. “Please speak a few basic phrases, if you would.”

“You turned it off?” Tristen asked. “How am I still understanding you?”

“As Nyx said, I adore languages. When I knew circumstances would likely take me to Earth at some point, I learned the English language, as Earth Between’s Station was located in an English speaking country. Now, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Tristen hesitated. His face took on the kind of distant expression a person got when they were trying to remember something they’d learned so long ago that they weren’t actually sure if they still knew it or not. After a moment, he haltingly said, “Good morning. How are you?” Or at least, that was what Nyx heard, since her translator was still active.

Morgen didn’t write down a single word, pausing with the pen just touching the paper. “Kaden, would you turn off your translator please?”

Looking about as pleased as he ever did about anything, Kaden tapped his tattoo. Out of curiosity, Nyx turned hers off as well. Morgen spoke rapidly, a stream of syllables Nyx recognized only in the sense that she had heard them before, having turned her translator spell off in the past to hear all of her friends’ native tongues. She recognized the cadence and some of the syllables, but she didn’t know any of the words.

She did recognize that when Tristen answered, haltingly, it sounded like it was in the same language. Then Kaden joined in. Still about as chatty as he ever was, only two or three words. Enough for Tristen to say something in response.

Morgen looked at Nyx and, in English, said, “No need to scour the universe. He’s from Raveras. Somewhere inland in the southern reaches, I’d guess, based on the dialect.”

Raveras. As in Morgen’s home. As in Kaden’s home.

Evra, who had already turned an interesting shade of white, blanched a little further when Morgen turned to her and said, “Remember when I asked you to meet my mother? How do you feel about doing that sooner rather than later?”

Like any good best friend would, Nyx saved Evra from a question she clearly wasn’t ready to answer. Reactivating her translator, Nyx diverted Morgen’s attention. “How can you go home? Aren’t you still a fugitive?”

While she had been curious as to why Morgen’s and Maruca’s wanted posters had come down and Kaden’s hadn’t, she hadn’t been optimistic enough to think that meant they were both pardoned. Especially since she’d sort of figured that Morgen would tell her if he was no longer wanted by the law.

“Only a little.”

“How can you still be a fugitive ‘only a little’?”

“Wait, he’s the prison planet guy?” Tristen broke in.

Nyx sighed. “No, he is not ‘the prison planet guy’.”

“He is,” Evra supplied, pointing at Kaden.

Thank you ever so much, Evra, Nyx thought acidly. “As I mentioned, it was a wrongful sentence. He was accused of stealing something he didn’t steal.”

Tristen blinked. “You got a life sentence to a prison planet for petty theft?” he asked Kaden.

“There was nothing petty about it,” Evra said, but she at least wasn’t feeling vindictive enough to add that Kaden had ended up in possession of the item in question, even if he hadn’t stolen it. She also pretended not to notice the warning glare Nyx shot her.