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the wagon and leaped to the roof of another, landing in a sprawl, one cheek against the splintery wood. Rising to his knees, he realized that he had reached the end of the line. Unless he turned around, there was no other wagon within range.
    “Still on the move!” a voice boomed. “He’s on this one!”
    If he stayed put, they would take him. Cole ran and jumped from the roof as far as he could. As the ground rushed up to greet him, he saw men coming at him from off to one side. Cole tried to land running but flopped painfully forward into the dirt instead, the impact jarring his bones. Driven by adrenalized panic, he scrambled to his feet just in time for a large body to tackle him from behind.
    All the air whooshed from his lungs as Cole was pinned beneath the bulk of a large man who stank of leather and sweat. Cole squirmed, but calloused hands held him firmly.Dirt filled his mouth, and a thorny weed prickled against his temple. Other men gathered around him.
    Then the men hushed one another. A light approached, accompanied by footsteps. Craning his neck, Cole saw Ansel, a lantern in one hand. He wore his wide-brimmed hat, a long underwear shirt, pants with suspenders, and a dusty pair of boots. In his other hand he held a sickle. Cole closed his eyes, dread coiling inside.
    The boots halted a pace away from Cole’s face. “What have we here?” that dry voice asked.
    Cole opened his eyes and kept silent.
    “Found him under a wagon,” the redhead reported. “Must’ve slipped into camp.”
    Ansel crouched down, setting the lantern on the ground. The nearby brightness made it hard to see Ansel’s face. “Time to fess up, Scarecrow. Slipped into camp from where?”
    “Just passing through,” Cole tried.
    “One of the girls said he was planning an escape,” the redhead volunteered.
    “She ratted him out?” Ansel asked.
    “Sure did,” the redhead said.
    Ansel nodded. “Good for her. She might make a go of it here. That little darling deserves a reward. We have any of those cookies left? The frosted ones?”
    “A few,” a voice answered.
    “She gets them all,” Ansel said. “Give her the royal treatment the rest of the way to Five Roads. First served, largest helpings, front wagon—whatever we can do to make her comfortable.”
    Cole hoped the cookies would give her food poisoning. But he kept his mouth shut.
    Ansel stood, picking up the lantern. “Let him up.”
    The man let go of Cole and got off him. A rough hand grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him to his feet. Ansel studied him through eyes so narrow, they almost looked closed.
    “Were you planning to steal my slaves, Scarecrow?”
    Cole glanced at the sickle—the wicked curve of the blade, the sharp point. He wasn’t sure what this guy wanted to hear. “You took my friends.”
    “You’re from over there,” Ansel said. “From outside. You came through with us. How’d you slip away?”
    Cole didn’t want to tell Ansel that he had come through after them. The Wayminder had helped him, and Cole worried the truth might get him in trouble. “In the confusion, I hid behind one of the stone trees.”
    Ansel glanced at his men. “I’m less than overjoyed to hear that. We had people in place to prevent that kind of sloppiness as we welcomed you to your new home.”
    “Where are we?”
    Ansel grinned. Not a happy grin. It was the grin of a killer who knew the police would never find the body. “That’s the question, now, isn’t it? See, we’re not in Arizona anymore. We’re not on Earth. I’m no astronomer, but this might not even be the same universe as Earth. We’re in the Outskirts. Junction, specifically, between the five kingdoms.”
    “And that means you can kidnap people?”
    Ansel glanced at his men. “Scarecrow has the rightquestions.” The lantern swung a little, squeaking. “In Arizona, yes, I stole your friends, and in those parts they might find me guilty. Your problem is, we’re not there no more. Once we