“Don’t talk to them if they make you that nervous, kid,” had been Aiden’s advice.

“Stay close to me and I will keep you safe,” had been Don’s reassurance.

No matter what, Rowan was nervous. This would be the first meeting of the Masters he would be attending with Don and Durant. Don usually took him along, but he’d leave Rowan in Durant’s care in the room they would be staying in at the time. This time, Rowan would be witnessing what they discussed.

He wasn’t sure he was ready.

“Well I guess it’ll give you a better idea of the sort of people you might have to work with when you’re negotiating,” Aiden had surmised.

“You need to know who is in charge personally,” Don had explained.

Rowan was greeted by the Vanguard and his Mara sister. He knew them well enough. Bruna was excited to see him, hopping up and down on her lupine feet and yipping happily while grasping his hands. “You’re getting so tall! Look at you!” It was true. He wasn’t as short as he used to be. He was almost close to her height.

At least with them flanking him he wasn’t so afraid. Don was as comforting as he could be, allowing Rowan a hand for him to grasp onto whenever he noticed the thirteen-year-old growing much too shaky. Durant was distant as ever, the lumbering prickly peluda grunting at him to stay near and not question too much as Rowan was prone to.

Rowan couldn’t help how curious he was at times. He truly wanted to know more beyond what he had read.

The profiles of each Master Don had provided him didn’t prepare him for the others outside of Grane and Bruna. He saw the Chamberlain and Doctor talking far off in the corner of the large conference room, and didn’t really grasp just how overwhelming this meeting would be for him until he was confronted by a woman taller than Don and thinner than himself.

She had rushed forth upon seeing them enter the room, an unidentifiable animal adorned with a collar of gold and lapis lazuli forcing him to recall a pair of specific Egyptian gods. The creature looked like a jackal of sorts, but was much too large and had a face too narrow. The woman had rushed over to see them, her skin appearing darker when contrasted with her beige quarter sleeve sweater and light brown knee length skirt. Her flats clicked and her glasses made her dark eyes appear larger than they likely were. Her hair curled in ways Rowan had never seen before, the small ringlets winding out and up and bouncing with every swift movement she made. Her smile was one of the most welcoming smiles he had ever seen.

“Is this Rowan?” she asked Don. Before Don could answer, she looked down at him and asked, “Are you Rowan?” She spoke fast. She had a thick accent, one that made it clear she was from Cairo. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. You read so much, I was wondering when I was finally going to meet the latest Loose String to borrow from my library.” As she spoke, she took Rowan’s free hand and shook it. Her words were rapid and he was amazed at his own ability to keep up with what she was saying. It was the last part that revealed to him her identity: the Librarian Kali Amani. Her partner, the dog looking creature with Egyptian decor, was known only as Set.

And Rowan couldn’t do anymore than say, “Nice to meet you.” He gave a dazed, “Thank you,” hoping she understood he was glad she enjoyed that he was one of the few Loose Strings who partook in the archives she guarded and contributed to.

Bruna chipped in for him, saving him the embarrassment of possibly fumbling through sentences, “He’s a real bookworm. Reads more than all the other recruits.”

“Allegedly quite the multifaceted learner, which I can’t confirm,” Grane interjected, “as I didn’t teach him anything.”

As Grane, Bruna, and Kali discussed over him, Don remained quiet. He squeezed Rowan’s hand and Rowan imagined it was a gesture meant to assure him. Glancing around, he heard the bubbly laugh of a child and saw across the room in a different corner the Locklear twins. Two blonde individuals, a ten-year-old looking girl in pigtails and pink dress and a tall man completely decked out in what appeared to be outfits and equipment geared towards what Rowan could only describe as ‘serious science’ as he had no idea what type of ‘serious science’ the Warden engaged in. The girl, the Handler, was the same age as the man but had stopped aging at ten while her brother had grown into approximately his thirties. They were discussing something in sign language, a language he had yet to study but wanted to.

The Warden looked at him and Rowan quickly looked away, afraid of the goggled man for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint just yet. He moved on to be greeted by the Conservationist and Professor. The Portuguese and Spanish speaking gentlemen were quick to pry Rowan from Don’s grasp, Daniel Malta in a doctor’s coat with his hair tied back quick to look Rowan over as if ensuring he was healthy and in no way undernourished. “My, you are a gentle faced boy,” Daniel declared almost in awe.

“Carino es muy bonito,” Keoma Floresta added, Rowan’s eyes caught on the tattoos crawling up the Professor’s arms and face before his next words caught his attention. “You look just like your mother.”

Rowan perked up at that, the words, “You knew my mother?” He went from bemused to overwhelmed by the thought in an instant. His chest clenched and . . . .

Keoma’s words did little to assuage him. “You have her eyes.”

“He does,” Grane concurred.

In that moment, Rowan felt like he’d been put on the spot. He was now being stared at by the Conservationist, Professor, Vanguard, and still he felt the Warden staring from his corner of the room. He felt like he was on a circular stage surrounded by a much taller audience whose heights dominated even the platform he was on.

He felt so small.

He felt even smaller when he met the tallest person in the room, whose first words were a jumble of Russian. Spanish he could at least pick apart, but Russian he couldn’t for some reason. The tall man handed him something, quietly telling him to open it when he was alone as it was a private gift. “Something I wanted you to keep in the family,” the Specialist explained as he squeezed Rowan’s shoulder.

The meeting, once everyone sat down, went smoothly. The discussion was quiet, even dull in some parts. Rowan couldn’t follow everything, not just because he didn’t understand all the current topics, but because he was seated next to, of all people . . . the Warden.

The Warden kept glancing over at him intermittently, scribbling notes into a pocket sized pad with his pen. The pen scratched and scratched, then stopped. A glance. Glance back to pad, and more scratching.

Rowan almost felt like the notes were on him.

He tried to distract himself by gently unwrapping the small bundle the Specialist had given him. He unwrapped it just enough to see that it was a knife, or rather a set of knives. There was a nostalgia that set into him as he wrapped them back up once more, a memory of how quick his mother was with sharp utensils in the kitchen. She had held them naturally, almost like she was supposed to have them.

And now he had them.

The Specialist had saved them . . . for her family. For him.

The scratching hadn’t resumed for a while and Rowan heard a soft click on the conference table before there was a sliding noise. He looked up to see the Warden’s gloved finger pushing something towards his own pen and paper and Rowan thought he was going to cry.

It was a stone figurine of a wolf.

Looking up at the Warden, he suddenly forgot the earlier fear as the man glanced away and returned to scratching his notes. He left the figurine for Rowan to pick up, which he did. Rowan held the bundle and the stone wolf together in his hands. He couldn’t help but feel flooded by thoughts of his mother, a woman these people seemed to remember so fondly. It was one of many times he came to doubt he would live up to her legacy, in spite of the quiet declarations from the Masters that they were just glad some piece of her was saved.

He couldn’t help but feel weighed down by the responsibility of being a piece of someone who came before him. In spite of the warm welcome he’d received from everyone, even the cold Warden, the weight was still very much present.