Merlin Ambrosius was in a board meeting when the alarm he’d been waiting 1500 years for rang on his phone. He startled up and out of his chair.

  Evelyn said, “Merle? Are you alright? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Merlin muttered, “In a way, I have.”

  “What?”

  Merlin sat back down. “I’m so sorry, but I have an urgent family emergency to attend to. Is there any way…?”

  Trent said, “Go, please. We’ll have the recording sent over to you for review. Hope all is well.”

  “Thank you,” Merlin said, and logged out of the Zoom call.

  He walked over to the bookcase in his home office. When he pulled a book, it slid open: a secret door. Behind it, stairs. He took the steps two at a time to the crystal cave below his house. For years, he’d visited the cave every day to check on Arthur. But with the advent of technology and sensors, he’d managed to rig up an arcanepunk warning system to ping his phone with updates. He’d used this to his advantage for small updates that had allowed him to make very lucrative investments, but most of the alarms were for other similar inconsequential things. The one that had gone off today, however, was for Arthur’s return.

  Merlin approached the laptop on the pedestal. He’d used sympathetic magic to turn it into a much easier interface for the Crystal Cave, although as he tapped around on it he found himself thinking about how he could improve the GUI. Things changed so quickly these days. He finally pulled up the continuously running program for Arthur’s return and scanned the output log. He was looking for coordinates.

  He frowned when he saw them. “That can’t be right. Avalon is in Briton, surely. Wait, but is it? Is there only ever one way in? Hm. Something to think on. Now, where is this, Artie? Where have you come to shore?”

  He pulled out his phone and Boggled it.

  “Lake Michigan? What!”

  The stranger she’d fished out of the lake stood at the sink watching hot water pour steaming from the tap with a look of childlike wonder on his face, as though he was seeing it for the first time and hadn’t just spent forty minutes in the shower. He had a pink fuzzy blanket with stars on it wrapped around him like a cloak and was wearing Marcus’s old flannel pants and a t-shirt.

  Julie tapped his shoulder. When he turned, she offered him a cup of hot chocolate, and reached over to turn off the tap as he shuffled away.

  He sniffed at the mug then smiled. He said something.

  Julie smiled back. “You’re welcome. Come sit down.”

  She led him out of her kitchen into the living room. She sat on the couch. He gingerly sat in an armchair, then relaxed and settled in, tugging the blanket around his shoulders tighter.

  Julie sat for a moment, then went and got some cookies. She set them on the table between the couch and the chair. The stranger watched her, wary and curious, but took a cookie without much prompting. He bit into it and sighed.

  Julie sat down on the couch again and pulled out her phone. “I’m going to pull up Boggle Translate, okay?”

  He looked surprised when her phone lit up. He said something.

  Julie looked at him. “Don’t make fun of me. I know it’s old. I just don’t see the need to get a new one.”

  She pulled up the app, then handed the phone to him. “Here.”

  He gingerly took it. He looked at it then back at her.

  She sighed. “Okay, let’s do it together.”

  She sat on the floor next to the chair so they could both see the screen. She pointed at English and said “English,” then pointed at him and said, “Hm?”

  She scrolled through all of the languages slowly. But the stranger didn’t pick anything, only sat and stared. She set her phone down. She sighed and rested her head on her knee.

  She glanced up at him. “Sorry. I don’t know what language you speak.”

  He took a sip of the hot chocolate then exclaimed something. He looked down at her with a bright grin.

  “Good thing hot chocolate is universal,” she said with a tired smile.

  She showed him to the guest room then retired for the night. She locked her bedroom door. Just in case.

  The next morning, her stranger was still asleep. So before she made breakfast, she called her brother.

  “I can’t believe you,” Josh said harshly. “You let a strange man stay in your house! What were you thinking! Do you know how dangerous that could have been? And you pulled him out of the lake? At least you should have gotten him checked out by the EMTs.”

  “I locked my door,” Julie said defensively. “And he’s fine. I checked for a concussion. He’s not in shock. And it was late, so. Anyway, I was just calling to see if you think I should report a found person.”

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  Josh said, “A what now?”

  “A found person. The opposite of a missing person. Is that a thing I can do?”

  “Well, is he a missing person?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Probably, right? I mean, how could I have found him if he wasn’t missing?”

  “Did you ask?”

  “He doesn’t speak English. He didn’t seem to know any of the languages on Boggle Translate either.”

  “So you have a strange man you can’t communicate with sleeping in your house,” Josh summarized.

  “Yes.”

  He groaned. “Does he have a wallet?”

  “No. But his clothes were kinda… I don’t know. Renn Fairey. Maybe that could help?”

  Josh said, “Give me a sec. I’ll look up nearest Renn Faires.”

  After a moment he said, “Uh, probably not a Renn Faire. The only one in Michigan is in Holly, which is land-locked and on the other side of the state. Could he be Amish?”

  Julie said, “He does have a nice beard. But they’re not exactly beach people. I think. I don't know. Do you know any Amish people?”

  "Yeah, I don't know. I’ll look into it for you, but why don’t you put him up in a hotel? Or show him to a nice homeless center.”

  “Josh!”

  “I don’t want him staying with you.”

  “Too damn bad. I can’t just kick him out. It isn’t hospitable. Unless you want to pay for a hotel?”

  Josh said, “Ha! No. Hey, I would take him if I could but I have the kids. As much as I don’t want you around a strange man, I don’t want them around one more.”

  “And I understand that. Look, I’m trusting my gut here. He feels fine. But I promise, the minute it starts looking bad, I’ll get him out of here.”

  Julie startled badly when she turned away from the eggs on the stove to see a ghost. Only it wasn’t a ghost, but her stranger dressed in Marcus’s clothes. Of course, she reminded herself. They were the only ones that fit.

  Her stranger held up his hands and stepped back, saying something in a calm voice.

  Julie laughed. “Oh. Gosh, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting- please. Come and sit. Do you want eggs?”

  She gestured to the table. The stranger gingerly sat, watching her all the while.

  “I don’t bite,” she said, amused.

  She poured two thirds of the scrambled eggs onto his plate and the rest on hers. He jumped when the toaster rang, but grinned when she set the toast on his plate next to the eggs.

  She said, “Food. Eat.”

  She looked at the table. “Right, cheese.”

  She went to the fridge to get cheese. While she was there, she thought some jam might be nice. And maybe some Nutella, so she got some from the cabinet, and then she saw the peanut butter, and then the marshmallow fluff… and by the time she was done, the table was littered and her stranger was eating plain toast with a bit of butter while deftly slicing some cheese as he chewed. She made herself a peanut butter toast.

  He looked at it. She held the knife out to him. “Do you want some?”

  He looked surprised but took it and after sniffing, licked it. Then he held out a hand in an imperious gesture. She laughed and gave him the peanut butter. After a moment, she realize she had some pears that would be very nice with a breakfast mess, particularly with cheese, and went to go get them.

  They were very efficient at cleaning up together. Even though they didn’t speak each other’s verbal language, they still both spoke the language of the hands and the lips and the eyes, and so were able to communicate well enough using that. He started off drying but soon enough switched over to washing when she realized pointing wasn’t helpful for putting dishes away.

  As the last few suds rinsed away, Julie said, “I think we should exchange names.”

  He dried his hands with a towel and looked at her with a curious tilt to his head.

  She put a hand on her chest. “Julie.”

  She got out a glass and held it up. “Glass.”

  She turned on the water. “Water.”

  She gestured at him with a questioning look on her face.

  He smiled. “Artorius.”

  Julie repeated, “Artorius?”

  He nodded. “Julie.”

  She gave him a notepad and pencil so he could write down whatever he was learning. He industriously copied down things into the pad, but when she looked over his shoulder, she still had no idea what language it was. She had to work some, so she gave him a brief tour of the property, including the trail leading into the sand dunes towards the lake, then set him loose to do what he wanted.

  “I’ll be done at noon,” she said, and indicated the twelve on the clock. “We can eat then.”

  “Eat,” Artorius said, perking up.

  She grinned back at him, amused but not surprised he’d learned it so fast. It was an important word. “Yes. Eat.”

  She happened to look out her window an hour later. She saw him heading for the dune trail with a fishing pole from the closet over his shoulder and a bucket. She snickered. Boys would be boys. She’d let him figure out there were no fish this close to shore by himself.

  He’d caught a fish. She couldn’t believe it.

  He looked up from the kitchen table where he was happily filleting the fair sized thing. He smiled and pointed at it.

  He said a word, then, “What?”

  “Fish,” she offered, bemused.

  “Fish,” he said with a firm nod. “Eat fish.”

  “Okay… thank you,” she said. “Eat fish. Sure. Hopefully it’s one of the legal ones. Yes. Eat. Lunch.”

  “Lunch?”

  She frowned. “Eat…” and then grabbed a chair, dragged it to the door, and stood on her toes to point to the 12 on the clock ticking away over the door. “Lunch. Eat at noon.”

  She went to get the paprika and flour out. He looked on curiously as she made up the fry mixture, then went to wash his hands while she got out a baking dish. She showed him how to cake the fillets in the mixture then turned on the stove. Artorius watched, intrigued, as the butter in the pan started to sizzle. He came up and held a hand over the stove.

  “Hot,” Julie offered. She mimed touching the pan and wincing, blowing on her finger. “Hot.”

  “Hot,” Artorius acknowledged, and went to write his new word down.

  Lunch was ready quickly. Artorius took a bite and his eyes widened. He wolfed down three fillets then looked across the table at her expectantly.

  She snickered and pointed at the fridge. “Help yourself.”

  He opened it curiously, put a hand in, then looked at her in amazement.

  “What?” she asked.

  He said something, shook his head, and dove into the fridge. He pulled out the loaf of bread, took a moment to disentangle a slice, then after putting the loaf back and shutting the fridge door, he popped it into the toaster and waited.

  Julie watched as he watched the bread. She finished her fish and reached over to push the lever down.

  “You have to turn it on,” she said. “Turn on.”

  He nodded, intent on the glow of the toaster. “Turnon.”

  Artorius was highly entertained by the various levers and switches and such in the house. His keen interest made Julie think he maybe was Amish after all. He spent five minutes playing with the lights in the kitchen while Julie started a list for a grocery run, and then when he left the room she heard little clicks and accompanying astonished little noises throughout the house. The TV came on with a hiss of static and he yelped. He’d come back into the kitchen and was programming the microwave to an unreasonable time when she finished the list. She put a hand on his arm.

  “Food run,” she said.

  She reached up to cancel the time on the microwave.

  “Food? Yes,” he said.

  “Go food,” she said.

  And then she had to explain go, and once he understood he seemed enthusiastic about going with her. That was fine. Maybe he could get his favorite food.