That night, after checking on the boy who’d fallen from the roof and pronouncing him stable, Robert fell into a deep, healing sleep—at least until someone knocked on his door.

Knock.

Knock, knock.

“Goddamnit,” Rob muttered while pulling a pillow over his head. Maggie stirred beside him, turning her back to the door. “Zev, if that’s you, I swear—”

Zev poked his head through the door. “Swear what? Hey, you’re awake. Nice save with that kid, dude. Everybody’s gabbing about it.”

“Zev, it’s the middle of the night.” Rob said. “Stay out of my room!”

“Yeah, that’s sort of what I need to talk about. I’m moving out.”

Rob lifted the pillow from his face. “Say what?”

“Moving out, dude,” Zev said in what, for him, passed as a whisper. “I got my own place. You might even call it a castle, though it’s in rough shape. A fire wrecked most of the inside walls and floors and stuff, and there’s not much of a roof so it’s pretty dank. But it’s a castle with a little moat and drawbridge and everything.”

“A castle?” Rob reached for his glasses, then his pants. “Seriously? How’d that happen?”

“Funny story,” Zev began. “See, I was playing at some noble’s party—a solo gig, the rest of the band bailed on me—and about half-way through my Jimmy Buffet set, some chick stumbles out into the party, all zombie-like. Turns out she’d gotten sick a few months ago, fallen into a coma or something, and she’d just woken up.

“Now I didn’t know this beforehand,” Zev continued, “but the noble-dude had offered land and a title to whomever could wake up his daughter. They said a couple of your monk-students had been out to see her, but no luck—not until I came along, anyway. So, long story short, I’m a mother-fucking prince now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rob said, pulling his shirt over his head. “Are you kidding me?”

“For realsies, dude,” Zev assured him. “The only downside? I was sorta supposed the marry the sleeping chick. I mean, she seemed nice enough after she woke up the rest of the way, plus she had a set of tits to die for, but you know me, I don’t like to be tied down. I told the dad thanks but no thanks, it’s me not her, yadda yadda, and to tell you the truth he seemed pretty relieved.”

Rob hopped on one foot as he yanked on a sock. “That part I believe.”

“The best part is even though I didn’t marry her, I still get to be a prince. Which is the reason we need to talk.”

“Robert,” Maggie’s voice mumbled from beneath the covers. “Is he chattering about my tits or somebody else’s?”

“Somebody else’s, don’t worry,” Rob said, pulling on his other sock. “Go back to sleep, sweetie, we’re going downstairs.”

Zev could be annoyingly chatty, especially late at night when everyone else had gone to bed, but he’d also shown up in this world just when Rob needed him the most. Rob had moved into the townhouse he’d bought after trading away his digital watch to the Chancellor, and even with Hans to guide him around town, he’d felt lost and alone.

He’d also spent a lot of time wondering if this medieval, fairy tale world could be real, or if he’d had some sort of psychotic break.

Rob hadn’t known what to do with himself. He’d spent his days searching for a way home, but there wasn’t anything to find. He’d thought about helping some of the sick people he saw on his daily wanders, but his grip on reality wasn’t steady enough for him to consider treating patients.

Then one day he’d discovered Zev, asleep in the hay pile behind his townhouse. Rob had thrown his arms around his cousin, crying tears of joy and relief at seeing a familiar face. Once Zev was able to pry himself free from Rob’s embrace, he’d explained that the TV studio where Rob disappeared had partially collapsed under what the newspapers were calling ‘mysterious circumstances.’

There were injuries but no deaths, and Rob was the only one still unaccounted for. One night, Zev had snuck past the police barriers to search for Rob, and after digging around a bit, suddenly found himself in the same forest where Rob had ended up.

Rob felt terrible for his family back home—they must be assuming the worst—but at least with Zev around, the likelihood he’d experienced a psychotic break seemed diminished, and Rob was able to get on with the business of building a new life here.

Wherever the hell that was.

Downstairs, Rob traded bites of a lamb-meat pie Zev had smuggled out of the party. “So you need money,” Rob said.

“Dude, I need lots of money. The castle roof needs fixing, the interior’s a mess, and it turns out there’s people living on my land who are fucking starving. You sure you don’t have any more gizmos from back home that we could pawn? A cell phone? An iPod? A back-up digital watch?”

Rob took another bite; the pie had long gone cold, but the meat and vegetables inside still tasted deliciously fresh. “All I’ve got are my glasses and clothes. My wallet, phone, and keys were in my jacket, which I took off before that explosion or whatever demolished the TV studio. There’s some gold left over from my trade with the Chancellor. I don’t think it’s enough to rebuild a castle, but I’m happy to share what’s left.”

“What about that can we found?” Zev said, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. “The Red Bull. Would that fetch any cash?”

Rob sighed. “It probably would, but I’m not sure what to do about the damn thing. I mean, doesn’t it worry you that someone besides us found their way here?”

“I don’t like people littering any more than you do, but I really need some major coin.”

“It’s not the littering I’m worried about,” Rob said. “Look, something’s going on here, and I’m not sure how concerned we should be. I’m going to hang on to the can until we can figure it out, okay?”

“I mean, I guess it’s your call.” Zev warmed his hands over the candle sitting on the table between them. “But if we’re going to keep the can, I need a product I can sell a shitload of, real fast. Something everyone wants.”

“Why don’t you invent zippers? Those would be useful.”

“Too hard. And dude, people have buttons, they’re just a pain to make. Folks here like their pullovers.”

“Okay.” Rob licked his fingers clean. “What about pockets? They’re easy, and I’m sure people would use those instead of tying little bags onto their belts.”

“That’s an idea,” Zev said, nodding. “But how do you sell pockets?”

“I don’t know. Do-it-yourself pocket kits?”

“Yo, cousin, I’m not playing games here.” Zev’s forehead tightened, making him look as stern as Rob had ever seen him. “Look, you think I want a fucking castle? It’s broken down and drafty and the whole place stinks like a wet basement. But a castle can be like a little factory, with all kinds of employment for all kinds of folks. You want to keep them from getting sick, right? So help me give them an income so they can buy decent food.”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Rob said. “I didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously.”

“I’m not a total asshole, you know.”

“I never said you were. It’s just . . . well, usually you’re a bit more focused on yourself, that’s all.”

“Not today, all right?”

“All right.”

“All right.” Zev’s intense glare softened as he spotted the last chunk of pie. “You going to eat that?”

“All yours.”

Zev used his fingers to shovel it into his mouth, and he chewed vigorously before speaking again. “Dude, I didn’t mean to snap like that. This castle thing’s got me wigged out. I’m not used to being stressed.”

“You’ll get better with practice. And if you’re going to rebuild a castle, you’re going to get tons of practice.”

“Fuck practice.” Zev spun the empty pie plate on a finger. “Christ, did we really eat the whole thing?”

“We did. I’m stuffed, and I only ate a quarter of it. How do you stay thin eating like that?”

Zev let out a loud burp. “How do you keep that gut walking as much as you do?”

Rob touched his stomach, which, though noticeably smaller than it had been during his Seattle days, still flabbed a bit over his belt. “By drinking too much at the Dancing Shoes. And speaking of gaining weight,” Rob immediately regretted saying.

While he’d begun to come to grips with the idea of becoming a father, Rob wasn’t ready to say so out loud, especially not to Zev. His cousin had a way of asking uncomfortably direct questions—Were they going to get married? Who was going to take care of the baby? What did people do for diapers around here?—that Rob would rather not consider tonight.

For a split-second Rob thought he might be able to change the subject, but Zev’s emotional antennae had shot straight up to the ceiling.

“Weight?” Zev said. “Who’s gaining weight?”

It was too late. Rob told him the news and watched Zev explode out of his seat. “That’s the best news ever! Dude, I can’t believe I’m going to be a prince and an uncle.”

“Technically, you’re going to be a first cousin once removed, but I don’t see any reason we can’t call you Uncle Zev.”

“Wowza! When’d you start thinking about popping out kids?”

“We didn’t,” Rob said. “It was kind of an accident.”

Zev barked out a laugh. “Accident? So you just rolled over one night and accidentally—”

“Hey, come on. Maggie’s overwhelmed by the whole idea, and I’m not too far behind. In fact, I’d appreciate your keeping this quiet until we get more comfortable with it ourselves.”

Zev nodded his head of messy curls. “I dig. Still, dude, it’s fucking great! You ought to be down at the Dancing Shoes handing out cigars.”

“Even if I was ready for that, I don’t think they have cigars here.”

“Cigars. I wonder if I could get my hands on some stogies? I bet I could move those at a sweet markup.”

“I may have my dates mixed up, but I don’t think Cuba’s been discovered yet. I mean, at least not by us.” Rob yawned, remembering that Hans had booked a full schedule for him in the afternoon, and he was supposed to teach at the abbey in the morning. “I need to get back to bed. Look, if you’re serious about helping people with this castle project—”

“Dude, I’m like 85 percent serious.”

“Oh boy. Do I dare ask about the last 15 percent?”

Zev jiggled in his seat before answering. “Okay, being totally truthy here, part of me is kind of hoping this’ll impress girls. Chicks here seem to go for a dude with more . . . I don’t know. Substance, I guess.”

“Tell this isn’t about you getting laid.”

“Dude! It’s way more than that. Fixing up the castle, boosting the economy, making sure folks have enough to eat.”

“Really?”

“Really. Besides, I get laid all the time. But this way, girls might want to be seen with me afterwards.”

Mildly exasperated, Rob ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting long, and he’d have to ask Frog to cut it. “I’m going to trust that you’re serious. Meet me at the abbey tomorrow, right after class. I’ve got an idea how we might raise some money for your castle.”

“Sweet! You’re not going to regret this.”

“I hope not.” Rob and Zev stood up at the same time and stretched, moving like mirror images of each other. They laughed at the sight of themselves before heading upstairs to their rooms.

By the time Rob slipped into his warm bed and threw a leg over a warmer Maggie, the sky had begun to lighten.

“Hey,” Maggie said sleepily. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Rob whispered. “Our little Zev’s growing up is all.”

Maggie responded by wiggling her bare hip into Rob’s mid-section. Although he was tired, the motion stirred his penis to life, and Rob wiggled back, gently testing the waters for some pre-dawn sex.

“What are you, a rabbit?” Maggie murmured. “Go to sleep, now.”

And Rob did so, quicker than he would have thought possible.