The docks were crowded and Slate pulled his hip pouches around to his front. "You two should do the same," he said to his companions. The other two gods secured their items on their person and Slate looked around - the three stood out like a drop of vinegar in oil amongst the crowd. "Vythin, can you do something about our attire?"

  "Of course. One moment…" Vythin flashed with golden light briefly as the three of them were dressed in attire similar to those around them - although the sudden light display did draw some attention.

  A human man came up to Vythin; his clothes bedraggled, skin rough from years at sea, and voice hoarse from yelling. "Are you one of those mage types?"

  Vythin shook his head, "No. I’m not. Can I help you with something?"

  The man shuffled his feet and looked down, "My daughter, sir. She’s sick. And we don’t have the money to take her to a Church."

  "You don’t have a Church of Healing Waters here?" Slate asked. The man shook his head. Slate looked at his companions, "What do you think? I may be able to come up with a remedy if it’s not too complicated of a disease."

  Isaac smiled, "We need information. What better way to get it than to help out the locals?"

  The old man bowed his head, "Thank you sirs! This way, please." He began leading them down the docks and into the tangled web of streets. "I’ve been trying to get a place on a ship for several months to send her away or bring a healer here, but no one is hiring hands."

  Slate was only half-listening, focusing his mind instead on following the path they were taking and memorizing the route. The streets were very close - arms extended and one could touch the buildings on both sides. All made of wood - some older and showing signs of decay, some newer, and some that were treated and well kempt.

  Isaac leaned over and whispered, "I don’t trust this guy."

  Slate nodded and replied in a whisper, "Neither do I. But we need to start somewhere. And if he is telling the truth, we couldn't ask for a better opportunity."

  The man approached a door painted black, a pale black from too much sunlight, and knocked. "Sweetie! Daddy’s home!" There was a dull thud behind the door as it opened, and a little Llios girl - no more than 12 - stood there. Like the rest of her race, she was otter-like in appearance, sleek fur, small whiskers, and a tail that dragged on the ground slightly. The man picked her up and gave her a hug as she coughed. "This is my adopted daughter, Shandra."

  Vythin waved a little, "Hi Shandra. I’m Vythin. This is Isaac, and that’s Professor Slate. We heard you were sick."

  The girl nodded sheepishly as the man led them into his home, turning to Isaac "Shut and bar the door if you would." Isaac complied. The interior of the room was dim-light by a few hanging oil lamps. Two piles of hay covered in blankets were in one corner, a small table with a ramshackle bench of flotsam stood opposite with a tiny stove.

  "We never caught your name, sir," Vythin said politely.

  "My apologies. The name’s Jareth."

  Slate walked over to Jareth and looked at Shandra. "Hi! I’m a Professor. Do you know what that is?" She shook her head. "It means I’m really smart. Your dad told me you are sick." She nodded. Slate turned to Vythin, "Can you...how do I put this...make things a bit nicer?"

  Vythin nodded and smiled, "Nicer, yes. Nice enough to be a target of theft? Not going to spend that much heat." He snapped his fingers, flashed gold, and the interior of the room became well-appointed with two beds, a larger table, a full wood fired stove and rugs.

  Jareth stood mouth agape, "I thought you said you weren’t a mage."

  "I’m not. I’m better. I’m a god. All three of us are," Vythin said with pride filling his voice. A cocky arrogance that Slate had only seen becoming more and more prominent.

  Jareth deeply bowed his head, "You have blessed us greatly. Thank you."

  Slate waved his hand, "Yes yes. All well and good. Please set Shandra down on a bed so I can examine her." Jareth complied and put Shandra down. Slate peered down at her before kneeling, placing a hand on her brow. There’s definitely a fever, he thought. So it must be viral or bacterial in nature.

  What do those mean? The Passenger asked.

  Viral means it’s passed from person to person and can’t survive long without a host. Bacterial means that it can live outside the host on its own. I need a blood sample to determine which it is.

  Slate reached into his front pouch and pulled out a small knife. Jareth grabbed his arm, concern written across his face. "What’s the knife for?"

  Slate used his other hand to pull out a small glass vial, "I need some of her blood to find out what’s causing this." The girl scrambled up and under the covers as he said this. "It won’t hurt Shandra! Here, look." Slate pulled the incredibly sharp blade across his thumb and a small trickle of blood pooled out. "And you want to get better, don’t you?" The girl nodded. "Okay then. I need you to be brave. If it helps, look at your dad." Jareth knelt next to her and cupped her head as Slate made a small prick and caught the blood in the vial. He placed a linen cloth over the wound and bound it with some twine. "There! All done."

  Shandra looked up, "That was it?" She asked.

  Slate nodded and turned to his companions. He flashed red as he asked himself. What affliction plagues this child? Focusing the question on the vial of blood in his hand. The blood flowed out of the vial and floated in the air, spelling the word ‘Folly’, before returning to the vial. He leaned over to Vythin and Isaac whispering to them, "She has a disease. It’s a dangerous one. I don’t know how she could’ve caught it though. Empire’s Folly."

  Vythin went pale, "How? I thought that only affected humans."

  Slate shook his head, "I don’t know - which means it’s a closely guarded secret by those who know it. She was infected with some strain of the disease...a new iteration of it. If we don’t do something, she will be dead and then become undead within a year."

  Vythin nodded and Slate continued in hushed whispers. "The Black Scale family turned that spell of raising the dead into a disease during The Empire’s invasion - hence the Dead Woods and Dead Scar."

  Isaac chimed in, "So what can we do? This sounds like something outside of our skill-set."

  There was a loud thudding at the door. "Jareth!" A loud, boisterous voice yelled through the door. "We know you’re in there! You owe us your protection money!"

  Jareth came over and Isaac put an arm in front of him. "Friends of yours?"

  "No. One of the recently retired captains started up a gang. What am I going to do? I don’t have any money for protection."

  Isaac smiled and looked to Vythin, "Feel like cracking some skulls?"

  Vythin cracked his knuckles and smiled, "Sure. Slate, you keep doing your thing here."

  Jareth weakly protested as Isaac flung the door open and walked out, "Well gents it would appear that you have the wrong address," Isaac said. Vythin followed him out and the door closed. Sounds of fisticuffs and brawling ensued. Occasional yelps of pain came through the wall as well.

  Jareth went to his daughter and held her, "They’ll come back."

  Slate smiled and walked over, kneeling next to the bed once more, "I don’t think that will matter. See, my friends and I - we have our own city. We are going to be letting people live there for free." He turned to look at Shandra, "And you, little one. Have you ever been to school?" She shook her head and Slate frowned, "Well! I’ll have to put you in school then."

  Jareth grabbed Slate’s arm, "You’d do that for us? Strangers?"

  Slate grinned, "What good is being a god if you can’t do good? Here," He pulled out the last of the dreks Vythin had given him and handed them to Jareth. "My tall friend, the one with the antlers? He can get you there immediately. It’ll be rather empty, at first - but we have a lovely caretaker who will help you get settled in."

  Tears began to well up in Jareth’s eyes as he ran a hand over Shandra’s head, "What about her? The sickness?"

  Slate nodded, "It’s something dangerous, and deadly. Tell me, Shandra, before you felt sick did you play with something you normally didn’t? Go somewhere you normally don’t?"

  "Well...I went to The Trash Heap with my friends."

  Jareth looked at her sternly, "I told you not to go there! It’s dangerous."

  Slate looked inquisitively at Jareth and he explained, "The Trash Heap is where all of the...stuff that isn’t valuable goes when someone dies. The family takes the valuables and throws the rest on the Heap."

  Slate looked at Shandra, "And did you touch anything while you were there?"

  She sheepishly nodded, "I didn’t mean to. Lilly and me were playing tug-of-war and Willy came over and wanted to play tag. I fell and scratched my arm."

  Slate grabbed her arm and examined it, pushing the fine, deep blue fur out of the way. After a few moments of searching he found a scar the length of his index finger; pale purple in hue. "I think I can fix this. But you’re going to feel really, really hot. Jareth, can you go and get a tub?"

  Jareth stammered and looked around for a moment before pausing. He went to the corner of the room and pulled a large wooden bucket - the size someone could sit in - over. "Where are we going to get water?"

  Isaac and Vythin came in, both panting slightly but seemingly unharmed.

  "They won’t be back for a while," Vythin said.

  "Can you fill this tub?" Slate asked.

  Vythin shook his head, "I can’t make water. Not under the purview of my abilities."

  "Jareth, take these two and find a well; we need to have her submerged in water." Isaac and Vythin were led by Jareth out of the building. A few minutes passed and they returned filling the tub up. Slate picked up Shandra and put her in the tub. "This is going to feel really hot, just like stepping on hot sand barefoot. The water might bubble a bit. But you shouldn’t feel any pain." She nodded and Slate put a hand on her head - the only part of her above the liquid - and focused. Burn out the disease. He willed his heat to flow into the young child and immediately the water began to steam as she started to pant. Jareth reached into the water and held her hand as the liquid began to slightly bubble. A few moments passed and Slate sighed, sitting down on the bed. "It’s done. I was able to burn it away."

  Jareth embraced his daughter and looked at Slate, "Thank you...we want to go to your city."

  Vythin glanced at Slate, "You invited him to Bastion?"

  Slate nodded, "Any problems with it?"

  "None whatsoever. I was going to suggest it, but you beat me to it." Vythin turned to Jareth, "Before my friend takes you there, we have a few questions."

  We are looking for something," Slate said as he gestured to Isaac.

  Isaac pulled out the small jar of tea leaves and handed it to the man, "These are grown in a cave system near the water. Glowing fungus on the walls. Ring any bells?"

  Jareth took the small vial and cocked his head to the side in thought, "The old smuggler caves on the far side of the island might fit the bill. But those have been abandoned for a long time. The Kingdom of Cruxia cleared them out."

  Isaac looked over at Slate, "Seems the best place to start." He looked back to Jareth, "How do we get there?"

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Jareth pointed through the western wall, "If you go to the cliffs there’s a small path that leads into the jungle. It’s two days overland. Lot’s of snakes and other nasties."

  Isaac waved dismissively, "Not a problem for me." He looked at the other two gods, "I’m taking him back to Bastion?"

  Slate nodded, "Only if you can get back here as well."

  Isaac sighed, "Yes I can...Becoming the glorified porter here." He looked at the father and daughter, "Alright! Gather up your valuables. Let’s get you there." He looked at the other gods, "I’ll be back." After gathering their things, the three vanished in a flash of green light.

  Slate looked over at Vythin, "How was the brawl?"

  He chuckled and sat on the other bed, "It was too easy. I broke a couple of bones - nothing major, they’ll be laid up for a few seasons, but they’ll live." He laid back and stared up at the ceiling, "It’s not fair that these folks live like this. How can a place function without a strong ruler or government?"

  Slate smiled and laid back as well, "Some places rely on anarchy - lack of law and order. Or the strongest rules as a dictator."

  Much like The Dark Moon, the Passenger chimed in. Rule of the strongest Demon over the souls of Umbra’s most...dedicated disciples. I bet half these pirates will end up there. Always following their selfish desires. You mortals are fascinating.

  Not ‘you mortals’. I’m no mortal anymore, if you remember.

  You could still die though. That’s mortal enough for me.

  Well - I’ll have to work on fixing that then.

  How?

  Slate smirked, I have some ideas on that.

  The remaining time passed with nary a word spoken. A small flash of green manifested and Isaac appeared, breathing a sigh of relief. "Yvilli is getting them settled. The kids are already getting along. All’s quiet on the home front."

  Slate stood, "Excellent. It is becoming late in the day. Two days trek through the jungle seems rather daunting."

  Isaac smiled, "I’ll keep you safe from all the nasty beasts and poisonous plants."

  Vythin closed his eyes, "Then let’s just rest here for the night."

  Isaac shook his head, "I don’t fear that gang, but they will probably bring another crew back here if they’re a big enough organization. I like having undisturbed sleep, thank you."

  Slate groaned and sat up, "Let’s find us a tavern. There’s got to be one around here."

  Isaac grinned, "Now you’re speaking my language. I may not be able to get drunk anymore, but I love the taste of beer."

  The gods found a decent tavern and inn that catered to somewhat wealthy travelers. A very heavy guard presence was at the front door to the establishment. Vythin refilled the other gods' funds and they caroused for a few hours. Slate made sure to stay far away from alcohol, instead opting to drink a chilled coconut milk with cinnamon.

  Morning came swiftly and Vythin woke his companions. They descended the stairs and had a surprisingly hearty breakfast.

  "You know," Isaac said between bites of bacon, "For a place with no ruler, things are going smoothly here."

  Vythin swallowed a large bite, "I’m surprised as well. I thought this place had no order to it, but we have had an excellent night’s sleep, a good meal, and a less raucous night of drinking than I had anticipated."

  "Creatures, most of them at least, are oriented towards order and structure," Slate said as he finished off an orange. "We are creatures of habit; we like routine. There has to be structure for there to be routine. It may seem like anarchy, but there is a sort of government here, and rulers."

  Vythin nodded and stared into the remaining food on the table, lost in thought. Isaac slowly reached over and took the bacon from his plate, silently sneaking the slab of meat and scarfing it down.

  "Before we go to these caves I want to go by that trash dump and see if I can find the remains of what Shandra cut herself on," Slate said as he quaffed a glass of chilled milk.

  "That could take hours," Isaac said through a full mouth.

  "Not for Vythin here," Slate said, slapping him on the back.

  Vythin looked up, "Sorry, what?"

  "The thing Shandra cut herself on should be easy to find with a miracle. It would be extremely valuable if it was a special strain of Empire’s Folly," Slate said, standing up and brushing his clothes off.

  The three asked around and soon arrived on the southern edge of town at an enormous pile of refuse; not sewage, but just...junk. The accumulated trinkets, baubles, odds and ends that a person may value but holds no value to others. Many individuals were roaming over the vast landfill, picking out pieces here and there.

  Vythin cracked his knuckles, "Okay. Miracle to find the disease." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them they were shining bright white. He scanned the area and pointed, "There! It’s this way."

  Slate spoke as he followed Vythin. "Undeath arises from a corpse coming into contact with The Void. Unlike what we fought under Highpass, which contacted The Void while living." They climbed onto the large pile and followed Vythin until they arrived at a flat patch. A coiled rope was prominent amongst the debris, and Vythin knelt down for a few seconds before returning to his allies, holding a broken glass vial in his gloved hand. "I think we found it."

  Slate pulled out a bag and Vythin dropped it in. "I’ll look at it later. Are you both ready to head to those caves?" Slate asked. The two other gods agreed and they left the refuse heap behind.

  The three made their way to the western edge of the city and asked around until they were directed to the path described - a long, narrow crevice in the rock wall. Isaac took the lead, and after a few minutes of tight squeezes they were in the jungle. Insects buzzed all around the three and Isaac slapped them away grunting, "I can’t control insects! Damn these things."

  Slate chuckled and briefly flashed red as the area around them grew very dry - the insects vacating the dry heat. Isaac continued to lead, and where he walked the jungle seemed to open a path for him - leaves moving aside and undergrowth bunching itself up to provide a smooth path. At one point a snake slithered down from an overhanging branch and perched on top of Isaac’s spectral antlers, and he seemed to have a conversation with it in a series of hisses before he set it on a nearby tree. The day passed and the three were deep in the jungle when Isaac called for them to stop and rest. Vythin miracled a tent into existence and the night passed uneventfully.

  The next day as the sun was setting the three exited the jungle. They were at the top of a cliff. To either side the cliff continued in a slow half-circle. Directly beneath them was a deep recess in the rock. "We have to get down to the water. Do you see a way down?" Slate asked, looking over the edge and seeing the sheer cliff below. "It would be helpful if we had a boat."

  Vythin frowned, "I don’t see any way down the cliff. How far of a fall is it?"

  "Maybe two-hundred feet," Slate replied.

  "So jumping is out of the question. And we don’t want you in your dragon form - if Selena’s operation is somewhere around here, she could have people stationed as lookouts," Isaac said as he looked around the cliffs to either side.

  "Climbing down then?" Vythin asked as he flashed gold and a pile of climbing gear appeared next to him - rope, pitons, boot attachments with spikes; everything needed to scale a large mountain. The gods outfitted themselves and began to descend the cliff face. Slate slipped once or twice, but Vythin and Isaac held firm and kept him aloft on the rope-line until he could find purchase once more.

  I’m not made for this type of stuff.

  Come now! Aren’t you having fun?

  No. I want to be in a workshop or classroom. Not on a cliff.

  The three descended until they came to a very thin ledge, only a foot across, and could take a breather. The waves crashed against the rocks below, and they could see the large crevasse in the rock to their right with what appeared to be an inflow of water. "That looks to be it. Only being able to enter by the water...extremely smart for a clandestine operation," Slate said.

  "But that means there’s only one way out," Isaac said.

  "There could be another entrance we don’t know of," Slate replied, looking down the next portion of the cliff. "We have to go lower, and then...sideways?"

  Vythin chuckled and with a deft hand secured the next set of pitons, "I used to do this stuff on walls...before the whole god thing."

  The gods continue downward with Vythin leading the way. "I know you have a history of crime, but climbing walls?" Isaac asked.

  "Buildings, walls, towers. I was a cat burglar and lookout. I got good with locks and climbing," Vythin replied, his titanic strength easily letting him shove his fingers into the solid rock to find purchase. They soon reached a point where the water had eroded the rock wall below them, and so they began to climb sideways. Slate slipped several times along with Isaac, but thanks to Vythin’s draconic strength he was easily able to pull them back up to find purchase. Eventually they spotted a small gap between the rocks with a shelf just barely under the water. With a few swings on the rope the three were on solid ground, the surf going up to their calves as they saw the cave.

  A deep crevasse inside the cliff; easily one hundred feet tall. They sloshed along the shelf which was conveniently wrapped around and along the edge of the cave. Vythin grabbed his fellow gods and threw them against the wall, putting a finger up to his lips. He pointed and Slate could barely make out the indistinct shape of a ship’s mast inside the cave, where the waters calmed.

  "Someone’s home," Vythin whispered.

  "Orinor wanted her operation shut down, right?" Isaac asked.

  "Yes. But there’s something off. See the Axan on deck?" Isaac squinted, his eyes shifting to those of a cat and he nodded.

  "Umm, guys? I don’t have any special sight. Mind describing?" Slate asked.

  "A Purple Scale Axan. The royal advisors to the Queen of Cruxia...what could he be doing here?" Vythin said.

  Slate felt a pit in his stomach and opened the pouch containing the broken glass from the heap. He passed his palm over it and channeled his heat, asking the vial; who created you? In his mind’s eye he saw several Black Scale Axan hunched over a desiccated corpse on a table, several beakers of liquid that bubbled surrounding them. He saw the brackish black liquid being distilled and poured into a vial.

  "It’s from the Kingdom of Cruxia," Slate said, his face set in a grimace.

  Vythin looked at Slate and glanced down at his hand, "The disease? You’re sure?"

  Slate nodded, "Yes. The Black Scale made this new strain. It’s meant to affect everyone, except for Crulon and Axan. A weapon of worldwide destruction."

  Isaac cursed under his breath, "They’re planning genocide?"

  Slate shook his head, "They made a tiny amount. Only enough to infect a village. And it was made hundreds of years ago. I don’t believe that it was ever used. Probably some pirate who plundered a Cruxian vessel and kept it as a trinket before it was mass produced." Slate stared into the dark cave, barely able to make out movement, "The Axan being here doesn’t have anything to do with the disease. But the fact that they made a strain that affects every humanoid except them is intriguing. It warrants further inquiry...another time, though."

  Isaac manifested his bow, "Then let’s deal with them."

  Vythin held up a hand, "We can end this without bloodshed. We just need to stop the grow operation and prevent it from resuming. Burning the crops and the fungus should do it, right?" he asked, looking at Isaac.

  "Yes. The tea can only grow in the presence of the fungus and with air off the ocean," Isaac replied.

  Vythin smiled, "Stealth mission it is, then. One thing I learned from my little detour with Kalinor…" Vythin vanished before the other two god’s eyes, "Is that light’s absence can make things disappear." Slate felt a hand touch him and when he looked down he couldn’t see himself. He did, however, see a pale white glow from Vythin’s eyes; a pair of small orbs barely visible in the dark.

  "Ah, I understand," Slate said. "You’re preventing light from bouncing off of us, which in turn makes us invisible...But you’ve excluded our own eyes," Slate said, feeling some small sense of wonder that Vythin was able to learn that on his own.

  "Here, let me find your hand…" Vythin grabbed Slate’s hand and guided it to his shoulder. "Now we find Isaac and do the same so we don’t get separated."

  "I’m right here," Isaac said. Slate looked and felt with his other hand towards the noise and impacted something squishy before he was grabbed. "You got me in the face!"

  "Sorry! Can’t see you," Slate replied as he replicated the shoulder-hold with Isaac. The three continued along the underwater shelf which slowly rose until it was no longer submerged. They followed the wall and saw a long, narrow wooden dock set up that was lined with empty barrels. Torches were scattered about providing some dim light. The three made their way past a few scrappy looking workers of various races, stopping near the Purple Scale Axan to listen in. Slate felt the tingling sensation of another god’s presence.

  "...The shipment will be ready on time?" The Axan asked.

  An Ogo with black hair and fair skin replied in a stern but pleasant voice, "I assure you. We’ll have the shipment ready by the end of the Season. We have to fulfill another order before we can get to yours."

  She's a god, Slate thought.

  The Axan grunted, "Her Majesty does not like being put behind others."

  The Ogo pulled out a blue cutlass and swiftly placed it at the Axan’s throat, "The Queen doesn’t own Moonsorrow Bay. My crew doesn’t owe her anything. Did you forget who you were talking to?"

  The Axan put his hands up, "I meant no offense, Captain Shimmerblade." He slightly pushed the sword away, "But you must understand. The Queen will expect priority in the future over your other customers. I’ve been authorized to pay you extra to make sure that happens."

  The Ogo smirked and the cutlass seemingly vanished into the sheath on her hip instantly, "I am amenable to that. Next season though. I have a reputation to keep."

  The Axan nodded and bowed before pulling something out of his pocket and vanishing.

  This Captain Shimmerblade sighed and paced to the other end of the ship as the three gods continued deeper into the cave system.

  …I’ve never heard of her before. She must be newer to god business than us.

  I’m surprised she didn’t sense your presence.

  I assume Vythin’s miracle has something to do with that...somehow...or maybe we can only feel that sense if the Shard is fully present in all facets of its being. I’ll have to test that theory.

  The complex crap you say can be infuriating to understand sometimes. Use smaller words.

  Slate smirked, This is why we need a universal school system.

  Are you making fun of my intellect?

  A bit. Don’t take it personally.

  They continued to the far end of the cave and found a campsite; several tents were erected around a center fire-pit, and a dim glow emanated from a tunnel that lay deeper still. The three silently went forward and came to a tunnel that wound back and forth - small patches of green on the walls growing ever so slightly. They emerged in a large cavern; several tea plants were planted inside wooden boxes filled with soil. There wasn’t a living being; but the whole room was brightly illuminated by the green fungus covering nearly every surface.

  "Are we going to burn it all?" Vythin asked.

  "I have this covered," Isaac said as a brief glow outlined his hand; he waved it through the air and it left behind a powdery, floating trail of green. Slate heard a whoosh as the trail spread and fell upon all of the tea leaves, withering them instantly. The cavern dimmed as the glow faded. "That should do it. Unless they find another cave with the same moss they won’t be able to produce the tea again. And they'd need new seeds as well."

  "What about the tea in the barrels?" Slate asked.

  "I can’t make my miracle invisible. They’ll know we are here," Isaac replied.

  "Then let’s just spread them in the cavern and then warp away?" Vythin asked.

  "We have to get back to the cave entrance - use the wind to help disperse it," Isaac said.

  They moved back through the tunnel, having to hug the wall of the narrow passage as the Ogo woman passed by. Vythin hastened his steps with the other two gods in tow. As they reached the campsite and the edge of the docks they heard a yell of outrage behind. Vythin picked up the pace further. The three gods were soon ankle deep on the small rock shelf at the cave entrance. Commotion and shouting could be heard from within. Again Isaac’s hand illuminated green and he traced a much larger pattern in the air. The green powder flew forwards as Slate felt Isaac slump against him. "I’m almost tapped. After I warp us I think I’m spent."

  "Get us to Bastion," Slate said.

  The green light flashed and Slate blinked a few times before sighing in relief, the gates of Bastion stood firm in front of him. The invisibility faded as Isaac began to collapse; only to be caught by Vythin. He looked up at Slate, "Why don’t you take him in. I’ll go to Starhold and tell Orinor we finished."

  "Sounds good. Stay safe," Slate said as Vythin opened the door into the portal hub. Slate looked around; hundreds of his metal constructs stood ready, the only open space being where they arrived just outside of the gate. Slate picked Isaac up and brought him inside.