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Elsie and Rachel, who’d stuck by their brother’s side after the ivy had been dissolved, approached the Bandit King with a suggestion.
“You’re looking for recruits?” asked Rachel.
Brendan only raised an eyebrow to the girl. “Yes, but we won’t just take anyone.”
“I’m not talking about just anyone.”
“They’ll need to be hard,” said the Bandit King, putting on his gruffest voice. “And brave.”
“They’re both of those things,” assured Rachel.
“And crafty.”
“Crafty in spades,” said Rachel.
“And willing to live long months in sordid conditions. And work well with others.”
“Check,” said Rachel. “And check. Sometimes.”
The Bandit King paused and eyed this Mehlberg sibling carefully. “Where would you find such a fount of solid bandit material?”
A reconnaissance party was dispatched beyond the borders of Wildwood to the Industrial Wastes. There, in an abandoned warehouse in a forgotten quadrant of this wasteland, the surviving members of the Unadoptables remained, forging a life for themselves amid the wreckage. They needed very little persuading; the promise of a life in the forests seemed a desirable alternative to their present circumstances. They arrived at the border of the Impassable Wilderness and linked hands with the half-breed girls, Elsie and Rachel Mehlberg, and ventured beyond the Periphery Bind, their former place of captivity, into the strange land.
In time, they would grow to be great bandits, bandits of renown. They had many further adventures alongside their new companions; one of the Unadoptables even grew to succeed Brendan in the title of Bandit King, but that was to come much, much later. In the short term, they were simply happy to have found a home together, far from the world that had abandoned them.
A new Periphery Bind was conjured; it sprouted from the stripling bark of the One Tree and the world, again, was protected from the many dangers of the Impassable Wilderness (or vice versa, depending on your perspective)—not that any Outsider could have noticed the difference. The invasion and subsequent retraction of the blanket of ivy did not receive an ounce of regard from the population beyond the boundaries of the I.W., and the people of that world continued on with their quiet and very mundane lives.
The elder Mehlbergs, Lydia and David, arrived home from their jet-setting romp around the world, disappointed in their failure to find their missing son. When the cab deposited them at the front stoop of their North Portland home, they were surprised to see that the dining room light was on.
“Did we leave that thing on the whole time?” said David.
But no: Inside the house, sitting at the dining room table, stacks-deep in a cutthroat game of gin rummy, were none other than all three of their children: Elsie, Rachel, and, yes, Curtis. Curtis the missing boy. He wore, strangely, a uniform that looked like it had leapt from the pages of War and Peace, all epaulets and gilded sleeves. They dropped their luggage with a bam and ran, hollering, to wrap the boy in the most tender tackle that the two middle-aged parents could have managed.
The story the three children told their parents, when they’d become settled and the shock of seeing their beautiful boy returned had somewhat ebbed, was fantastic beyond words, and it was a testament to the imaginations of Lydia and David Mehlberg that it was not only believed, but promised to be kept as a secret. They were chagrined to learn that Curtis would need to return to this world—he’d taken an oath, after all—but they were understanding of the importance of his role among his bandit brethren.
They could come and visit any time. They were half-breeds as well, after all.
Alexei chose to stay and to stay alive.
He’d seen the devastation his mother had wrought on his native land, and despite his misgivings about his being a mechanical re-creation of his former, living self, he felt like he had an obligation to the people of his country. The boy’s return was met with excitement and celebration from all quarters; it was unanimously agreed that Alexei should ascend the throne and be given the title that the Ancients used for their reigning monarchs.
He was named Wildwood Emperor and was crowned with a salal wreath, as the Ancients had done.
A great party was given at the site of the old Council Tree in celebration of Alexei’s coronation. It took place not long after the ivy had been dispelled, and invitations were sent out far and wide by hawk and sparrow. Owl Rex and his retinue of eagles arrived in full military regalia. Rarely had the people of the Wood seen those grumpy raptors let go their austere expressions and enjoy themselves; once the second cask of poppy beer had been uncorked, the old generals were regaling the crowd with stories of harrowing battles and singing the old songs from their flying corps.
The Wildwood bandits arrived by horseback. It was generally agreed among the partygoers that they proved to be the best dancers of the crowd, there under the pinprick stars and the paper lanterns that showered the wide meadow with light. Several dancers, having chosen a bandit for a partner, seemed not to notice that their purses grew lighter with every turn around the sawdust-covered dance floor.
Elsie and Rachel returned to the Wood for the party; many a dancer fought for a chance to take a turn around the floor with one of the two black-haired sisters, and Rachel had barely escaped the grasp of one particularly persistent farmhand to get a sip of cordial when she felt a tap at her shoulder.
“May I have this dance?” asked a voice.
She was about to demur politely, when she turned and saw it was none other than the saboteur Nico, having been discovered in the wreckage of Bandit Hideout Deerskull Dragonfighter not long after the bandits had returned. He’d ditched his black uniform for the mismatched costume of a Wildwood bandit, which he admittedly wore with considerable panache. Rachel threw her arms over his shoulders and gripped him in a tight squeeze. “I thought we’d lost you!” she shouted.
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bsp; “Moi?” he asked, affronted. “C’est impossible.” He then took a step back, bowed deeply, and proffered his hand.
She took it, smiling, and the two danced off onto the floor while the band whipped up a rousing reel.
