"If I told you to put, say, my mother, could you do that, or would you have to meet her first?"

"I dunno, maybe. Probably. Should trying?"

[Hello?]

[Mother? I have an interdimensional winged eight-year-old with magical telepathic comms at Vorkosigan Surleau. Please advise.]

[...Well,] she says to Miles. [That's... certainly something.]

Pen, meanwhile, wades out of the lake, contemplates the muddiness on her feet, and sits, wings splayed out behind her.

[The "please advise" was not facetious,] he adds.

[No, no, of course not,] she says. [I'll... be there in an hour.]

"I asked my mother to come and visit, and she says she'll be here in an hour," he says for Pen's benefit.

"'Kay. Why?"

"Well, she might be able to help me figure out how to find your family."

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet. That's part of why I'm asking Mother to help."

"No magic, nobody who doors like, might just need waiting for them find me."

"Well, what if we asked everyone we know whether they've heard of this bar? If we asked enough people, one of them might be somebody the door likes, and just not have said anything to us yet because they didn't think we'd believe them about the magic bar."

"Oh, that make sense."

"I'll see what she thinks of it when she gets here."

Nod nod.

"Don't think so."

"Want to play some and see if you like them or not?"

"Okay. Are like computer games?"