“Was that how it happened?” Cole asked. “Enforcers came and grabbed you?”

Mira shook her head. “Trillian’s version was extra dramatic. There was no attack with guards dying. It all happened in the practice yard. We were taken by my father’s bodyguards. Like ten or so. Galin died trying to defend us, and Honor had to be disarmed. My father never came to the practice yard. Owandell was there, though.”

“We didn’t have much time to hunt for Honor,” Jace said.

“Once we started straying from my memories, it went bad fast,” Mira said. “Trillian didn’t leave us much choice about where to go. Did you notice how we got driven to the practice yard?”

“Did we even see Honor?” Cole asked.

“I don’t know,” Mira said. “I was trying to pay attention. I guess she might have been some random guard. Or a bird in the background. Or she could have been in some part of the castle we never saw.”

“That wouldn’t be very fair,” Cole said. “Trillian said we’d have a chance to win.”

“He told us it would be hard,” Jace said. “Maybe we bailed out too quickly. Maybe we needed to fight our way someplace else.”

“We were surrounded,” Mira said. “Owandell was coming to execute us. We had to make our guess and move on.”

“What is that thing?” Jace asked, gesturing at the old washing machine.

“It’s a washing machine,” Cole said. “Probably a broken one if it’s out here. But it’s way too big. Everything is oversized.”

“What does it wash?” Mira asked.

“Clothes,” Cole said. He noticed a crushed soda can the size of a wastebasket. He heard crickets chirping. Giving the stars a more serious look, he found the Big Dipper. “We’re in my world.”

“Your world’s a dump,” Jace said.

Cole barely heard the insult. The yard was suddenly familiar. He walked sideways so he could see around the washing machine. Sure enough, there was a one-story house with a large back porch and rabbit hutches off to the side. A porch light was on, and from one window came the bluish flickering of a television. “I know where we are.”

“Where?” Mira asked.

“Mr. Barrum’s house,” Cole said.

“That tells us nothing,” Jace said.

“I used to live in Idaho,” Cole said. “Up until first grade. Mr. Barrum had a big weedy yard at the end of our street. He kept rabbits in the back. Past his house, it was just empty fields. All the kids in the neighborhood were scared of him. When I was in kindergarten, our cat, Smokey, vanished one night. Some other kids lost their cats too. Dad said it was probably coyotes or an owl, but all the kids knew it was Mr. Barrum. He always carried an ax around, and when kids went near his house, he’d shake the ax at us and tell us to stay away from his rabbits.”

“We’re in your old town?” Mira asked.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “Outside of Boise. But we’re small. Trillian shrank us. Or else he made the yard really big.”

“This Barrum guy wasn’t a giant?” Jace asked.

“No,” Cole said.

“Do you think he’s the threat?” Mira asked.

“Probably,” Cole said. “I hated that guy. I used to have nightmares about him.”

“Does he have a family?” Jace asked. “Does he have dogs?”

“He lived alone,” Cole said. “Just the bunnies.”

“Do we look for Honor here?” Mira asked. “Should we go somewhere else? Your house maybe? Someplace with more people?”

“It’ll be hard to get out of the yard,” Cole said. “His whole backyard is fenced. I remember climbing up to look over the fence once with my sister and . . . some older friend. They boosted me up. I remember the washing machine. And the rabbit cages. Mr. Barrum saw me peeking. He came stomping out of the house, yelling about private property. We ran for our lives.”

“If Barrum is the bad guy, then Honor might be a rabbit,” Jace reasoned.

“That would make sense,” Cole said. “If Trillian wanted to mess with my head, making Honor one of those rabbits would be brutal. You didn’t go near Mr. Barrum’s rabbits. You stayed away from his house. You tried not to ever see him.”

“How many rabbits?” Mira asked.

“I don’t know,” Cole said. “A bunch. Maybe ten. I only saw into his yard one time.”

“It’s my turn to make the guess,” Jace told Mira. “Should we go see if any of the rabbits remind you of your sister?”

“We need to be quiet,” Cole said. “He’s in there watching TV.”

“What’s TV?” Mira asked.

“It’s . . . well . . . a box that tells you stories,” Cole said.

“Your world has weird magic,” Jace said.

“Let’s hurry,” Mira said. “Remember, Trillian is running this. He might make Mr. Barrum more vigilant than usual. He might add things Cole doesn’t expect. That just happened to me with my family.”

They jogged across the yard, weaving around tall weeds, a huge work glove, and a few cinder blocks the length of beds. After jumping over a green rubber hose, they took cover behind a rusty barbecue not far from the hutches.

The hutches looked like a row of small shacks on stilts. The fronts were open, leaving the rabbit cages visible, though no rabbits were in sight. Each cage adjoined a small enclosed space where the rabbit could hide away.

“Eight cages,” Cole said. “Must be eight rabbits.”

“Unless some are empty,” Jace said. “He raises them for meat, right?”

“I always thought so,” Cole said. “I figured he probably ate our cat, too.”

“Those cages will be hard to reach,” Mira said.

“It would be cool if those Jumping Swords started working again,” Jace murmured.

“I’ve tried,” Cole said.

Mira ran over to the hutches. Cole and Jace joined her. The bottom of the hutches were more than three times their height.

Mira walked around one of the wooden legs supporting the hutch, appraising it. “Can we climb this?”

“There isn’t anything to grip,” Jace said. “A Jumping Sword would sure be handy.”

Cole drew his sword and aimed it up at one of the cages. Closing his eyes, he envisioned the sword working. He pictured ghostly flames dancing along the length of the blade. He put all of his will into making the sword function.