Pel said. He gestured at their unexpected guest. “This is Raven.”
“Hi,” Nancy said, looking questioningly at Pel as he came to take one of the bags of groceries from her arms.
“Your servant, madame,” Raven said, bowing again.
“My wife, Nancy, and my daughter, Rachel,” Pel explained as he carried the groceries into the kitchen.
“A pleasure to meet you, I assure you,” Raven said.
Nancy murmured something vague, then followed Pel into the kitchen with the other bag.
“Who’s he?” she demanded. “Why’s he dressed like that?”
Pel put the sack on the counter and started putting cans of soup on the pantry cupboard shelves while he tried to think how to answer that.
“He says to call him Raven,” he said. “I’m not sure if it’s really his name or not. And he’s apparently dressed like that because that’s what he wears at home.”
“Where’s home? What’s he doing here?”
A can of Campbell’s cream of mushroom slipped, and Pel caught it in his other hand.
“I don’t know, really,” he said. “I mean, I sort of do, but it’s... well, it’s not that it’s hard to explain as that nobody would believe the explanation.” He paused, considering, and added, “I’m not sure I believe it.”
Nancy stared at him. “Pel, what are you talking about?” she asked, worried.
Pel looked helplessly around the kitchen, as if hoping the cabinets would tell him what to say.
The cabinets remained blank.
He could hear voices from the family room, he realized—Raven and Rachel were talking. He crossed to the door and leaned through.
“You see?” Raven was saying. “It is indeed a real sword. And sharp—do you not touch it, lest you cut your pretty fingers.” He had pulled about a foot of the blade from its sheath, and Rachel was admiring the dull gleam of the metal.
That wasn’t cheap chrome, like some of the ceremonial swords Pel had seen, nor stainless steel, nor plain iron. Even from the kitchen door he could see the fine finish, the sort of finish one saw on very expensive carving knives.
Nancy came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.
“Pel,” she whispered in his ear, “what’s he doing here?”
Pel turned and pushed Nancy back into the kitchen.
“He’s from some sort of fantasy world,” he said. “Where magic works. He’s a warrior of some kind, I guess.”
“You mean he’s crazy? An escaped lunatic?” In an instant, Nancy’s expression went from mildly concerned to seriously worried.
“No,” Pel told her. “Or at least I don’t think so. I think he’s for real. There’s some kind of space warp that comes out in our basement.”
The worried look now verged on panic. “Maybe you’re crazy, too!” Nancy said. “Pel, what are you talking about?”
Pel groped unsuccessfully for words, and finally just said, “Come on.” He took Nancy’s hand and pulled her back into the family room, where Rachel was admiring the silver embroidery on Raven’s tunic. Raven was watching the girl’s little fingers indulgently as they explored the textures.
Raven looked up as the pair entered, and smiled. “A lovely child,” he said. “And well-spoken.”
“Thanks,” Pel said.
“In her sixth year, you said? Or was it seventh?”
“She just turned six.”
“Ah!”
For a moment the Browns just stood there, and Raven sat, and Rachel ran her fingertips down the silver piping. Then Raven carefully lifted Rachel off his knee, placed her on the couch, and stood up.
“My presence here troubles you, I see,” he said, “and I’ve no wish to trouble anyone.”
Pel chewed his lower lip, glancing back and forth between Raven and Nancy, while Raven awaited a reply. He was obviously hoping for a polite denial, but Nancy was obstinately silent as she stared at the stranger.
Raven sighed and picked up his sword. “I’ll be going, then,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Pel said, “but I can’t think of any way to explain you that doesn’t sound crazy.”
“Ah,” Raven said, comprehension dawning, “I see. I’d feared it was something else, that perhaps I’d given offense somehow. I know so little of your world, after all!” He looked hopefully at Nancy.
She remained silent; it was Pel who assured him, “No, you’ve been charming. But your clothes, and your name... well, it’s strange.”
Raven nodded.
“Madame,” he said, “I beg your pardon for intruding, and for my garb, which I take it you find outlandish. In truth, I am outlandish—I’ve come here from another realm entirely.”
Pel listened to this with interest; it was remarkable how much more believable that sounded coming from Raven than it did coming from him.
It still wasn’t very believable, though, and in fact Nancy obviously still didn’t believe it.
Rachel was also skeptical, judging by her expression. Nifty embroidery and shiny swords were all very well, but modern kindergarteners knew better than to believe stories about other worlds. Rachel had independently figured out just weeks before that Santa Claus wasn’t real; she was still working on the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy, but she wasn’t about to accept Raven at face value.
Raven could see the disbelief as well as Pel could. He sighed. “You doubt me,” he said, deliberately understating the case, “and I can scarce blame you, for who in her right mind would believe such an assertion without proof? But perhaps I can convince you. And if not, I’ll go, and at least you’ll be rid of me.” He rose and reached for his sword and belt. “Pel Brown,” he said as he fastened the buckle, “if you would be so kind as to lead us to the cellars?”
That was clearly the thing to do, though the idea had not occurred to Pel. “Come on,” he said. “Everybody down in the basement, and you can see why I believed Raven about where he came from.”
They trooped down the stairs, Raven in the lead, then Pel, then Rachel, and last Nancy. Raven did not hesitate; he walked directly across the basement and into the concrete wall.
Unlike Grummetty, who had whacked his head the first time he tried to return to his own reality, Raven vanished immediately.
Rachel’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened.
Nancy turned to her husband and demanded, “Pel, what’s going on here?”
“You saw,” Pel said. “He vanished into the wall. See, night before last, when I was down here, this little tiny guy, like an elf or something, appeared out of nowhere, and talked to me for a minute, and then disappeared into the wall just the way Raven did.” He didn’t mention the bump. “Then this afternoon, when you were out, I heard knocking, and there Raven was, in our basement. And he gave me this whole story about another world, and I know it sounds stupid, but I bought it—it sounded real, and he looked real, and I couldn’t figure out any other way it could happen.”
“Well, he’s gone now,” Nancy said, and just then Rachel, who had wandered halfway across the basement staring at the spot where Raven had vanished, let out a shriek.
Raven was stepping back out of the blank concrete wall.
Rachel came running back across the basement floor to her parents and flung herself against her father, who bent down and picked her up, hugging