Chapter Forty-Seven

The Perfection of Possibilities

The sun shone down on the fresh green tavel and spread across the landscape like a soft blanket. Tea birds swooped down like ribbons, crisscrossing the air in celebration. The rivers and streams sang as they cut across Sycophant Run.

A long wooden table had been set up on a grassy knoll overlooking the Veil Sea. The waves sliding back and forth on the beach added to the magical sound of laughter coming from every direction.

The table was too small for Geth and Phoebe, so they sat on a stump near it. Phoebe was talking about the weather as Geth played with the paper-clip ring on his left index finger. Leven was lying on a blanket under the sun with Winter by his side.

It had been many weeks since the tree had died and things had spun back into place. Clover had wisely planted the seed, and Leven had lain in bed unconscious for almost three weeks before he had awakened to find Winter near him and the glow of millions of dreams flowing into a new Foo.

“Attention!” Rast called. “If you will.”

Everyone stood up and gathered around the old sycophant. He smiled and raised a glass. Even the wind hushed up.

“It is a gift to be standing here,” Rast said, “surrounded by so many friends and looking out on the Veil Sea with awe and not horror. It is the sycophants’ sacred duty to assist Foo. It is a responsibility we do not take lightly. And while there are so many to honor, I feel that I must mention one. Clover . . .”

Rast looked around.

“Clover,” he called again.

Clover materialized near the table. He combed his hair, straightened out his robe, and wiped what looked like lipstick from his face. “I was . . . snorkeling.”

Lilly appeared on the other side of the table near Winter.

Rast cleared his throat and continued. “I think it only fair to point out what an exceptional job Clover has done.”

“Hear, hear,” everyone cheered as Clover smiled.

“When it was discussed that you would go to bring Leven from Reality, we never could have imagined how well you would do your part. Leven.”

Leven stepped forward and pulled out a little box. Lilly and Phoebe began to cry.

“I remember when I first saw you under my bed,” Leven said. “You told me you were there to help. And I’m certain the oldest tree would still be standing if it weren’t for you.”

Leven opened the box and pulled out a small leather strap with a clover on it. Clover took it and jumped up on Leven’s right shoulder. Leven turned to look at him, and Clover hugged the life out of his head.

A number of people were wiping their eyes.

“Should we eat?” Rast finally said.

Everyone cheered and Rast clapped. Two rows of sycophants emerged from the bushes. They were being led by Amelia, and all of them were carrying platters of food. There were roasted potatoes and smoked meat covered in gravy. There were also buttered greens, creamy purples, and dry-as-a-bone pinks. Then came the cakes and drinks, so many they couldn’t fit on the long table. Clover was about to serve himself, but then he remembered Lilly, and she went first.

Leven stood on the edge of the gathering with Winter. Foo was so different. The colors were brighter, the darks were deeper, and the dreams coming in weren’t so singular—they seemed to mesh to make one frosty glow over the whole place.

“So you did it,” Winter said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You know, it’s okay if you’re a little selfish,” Winter smiled. “I mean, just for today.”

The Want leaned in and kissed Winter as Clover helped himself to a third piece of cake.