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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

At Meg’s command, Xerak and Kaj, who had been balanced on the rails, dropped over Slicewind’s side, their lines trailing smoothly behind them. The winch teams watched Meg’s hands. Rather as if she was conducting an orchestra, she provided nonverbal commands for when they should tighten or loosen the lines.

Meg was giving the sign for them to “hold” when the angel moved at last. His sword swept down in a calm, smooth strike that nonetheless was frighteningly swift and dangerously precise.

“Reel in!” Meg shouted as soon as the blade began to move, her usually calm voice shrill and cracking.

Peg and Teg were doing so, aware anew just how solidly Kaj was built, when Vereez screamed and the wildly spinning winch handle was ripped out of her black-clawed hand. She toppled back, hitting the deck hard.

Teg had a moment to think, “Xerak’s line must have been cut!” when their own line became impossibly heavy, sagging under added strain. The rope they had already coiled in began to unwind, lowering its burden slowly and inexorably toward Leviathan’s gaping maw.

“Kaj caught Xerak!” Meg shouted.

Grunwold yelled, “Peg, take the wheel!” then took her place at the winch handle. Vereez sprang up from the deck, shoved Teg out of the way, and joined him. Teg, aware that only so many people could effectively work the winch’s handle, ran to the side of the ship to see what she could do to help.

Dangling below, Kaj held Xerak beneath his armpits. Xerak hung limp, blood dripping from the top of his head, matting his fur. The line of his harness had been neatly sliced through and trailed behind him like a second tail.

Teg glanced at the angel. The towering form had returned to its former impassive stance, watching, but not acting. Below, on the aurora borealis span, Uten Kekui still sprawled unconscious. Beside him a single boot-shaped print had worn the surface to translucency.

Peg was slowly sailing Slicewind out of the angel’s reach, but she didn’t dare go too quickly, not while two of their companions still dangled over the side. When Kaj and Xerak had been raised within reach, Grunwold set the brake on the line.

“Teg, take my place on the handle in case we need to play out or take in line. There’s no way you can haul Xerak and Kaj over the side.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Teg said, with complete sincerity. “Vereez, you go help Grunwold.”

Xerak was pulled aboard first, then Kaj. Xerak was fully conscious, although obviously in shock. The angel’s sword had cut the tip of his ear, an injury that had bled copiously but was not in the least life threatening. The sword had also cropped a good bit of Xerak’s unruly mane so he looked extremely lopsided.

“Grunwold hurt me worse when we fought as kids,” he said, when Vereez came rushing over with the first-aid kit. “You didn’t fuss like that then.”

“Then,” she retorted, “I wasn’t trying to reassure myself that your stupid head was still on your stupid, stupid neck.”

Grunwold gave Xerak a rough hug. Then he grinned at Kaj—a true smile, full of appreciation for Kaj’s heroism. He started to offer his hand, then impulsively hugged Kaj, too.

“Kaj, you win the prize,” he said. “Thanks for keeping Xerak out of that sea monster’s toothy jaws. What happened?”

Xerak replied, “As soon as I put my foot on the bridge, that winged thing—‘angel’—swung at me. If my foot hadn’t slipped or the bridge’s surface hadn’t given or something like that, the sword would have taken my head off.”

Kaj added. “I hadn’t actually touched the bridge. I was bending to see if I could lift Uten Kekui, when I heard this shrill hiss—the sword cutting through the air, I think. Then Xerak was falling and, well, I grabbed him. Meg yelled and I was hanging on, then you reeled us in.”

“The angel didn’t continue its attack once you were off the bridge,” Peg mused. “That’s interesting.”

“I was watching it pretty carefully,” Xerak admitted, “at least after I realized that Kaj had caught me and I wasn’t going to be fish food. You’re right. As soon as we were off the bridge, it went back to its guard stance.”

Meg had been studying the angel and its surroundings. When she lowered her binoculars, her expression was thoughtful. “The angel might let humans onto the bridge.”

“Why you and not us?” Vereez snapped, her tone aggressive, her ears telegraphing shame.

Teg suspected the young woman had been getting ready to volunteer for the next attempt, and couldn’t decide whether her spontaneous feeling of relief meant she was actually a coward at heart.

“Because,” Meg replied in the practical tones she might use to direct a researcher to the appropriate aisle and shelf, “I think the angel is meant to keep those of this world from crossing in the wrong direction—that is back into our world. Like most legalists, I don’t think he’s much of a freethinker. We are not of this world, so we should not be perceived as violating the Law.”

“I’m willing to try,” Peg said.

“Me, too,” Teg agreed.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Meg said, “if I wasn’t willing to take part in an attempt. We’ll need a somewhat different division of labor, though. Xerak was going to take charge of acquiring Ba Djed, since he already has some rapport with it.”

“I can try,” Teg offered. “We have spare enshrouding containers. I’m pretty good at delicate manipulation. I think I can get the artifact into the box without touching it, at least not for more than a nudge or two.”

“Then Peg and I will take charge of getting a rope around Uten Kekui,” Meg said. “That process, however, will inevitably involve some contact with the bridge. I am in very good shape for a woman of my age, but I don’t think I can lift an unconscious man while hanging in midair from a rope harness. At least not for very long.”

Peg sighed. “I’m not Kaj. Even when I was into weightlifting—my third husband, Irving, went through a personal-trainer phase—I never was built like Kaj. And while those flying harnesses are solidly knotted, they do cut into one—deeper the more weight you’re holding.”

Kaj gave a dry chuckle and lifted his shirt so they could see the deep grooves the harness had cut into his skin. “Tell me about it. I agree. You should plan on resting at least some of your weight on the bridge.”

“Sorry, Kaj,” Xerak said. “I . . .”

“Forget it. Come up with a miracle for us, wizard.”

Xerak rose to the bait. “I could try to strengthen the bridge. I have some rapport with Ba Djed. If it could be retrieved, then I could draw on its connection to the bridge, as well as use it as a source of additional mana.”

Vereez paced restlessly. “But that’s the problem. We can’t retrieve Ba Djed without going onto the bridge, and taking it away from Uten Kekui. But even the humans shouldn’t go onto the bridge without the assurance that it won’t dissolve under them. And I don’t think we should plan on repeat visits. Have you seen the mark Xerak’s boot left? It practically dug a hole, and he was only on the bridge for a few breaths.”

“Good assessment,” Kaj responded. It said a lot for Vereez’s state of mind that she only nodded, accepting the compliment as if any of the others had spoken, rather than her first and only love. “Xerak, can you commune with Ba Djed from here?”

“I can try,” the young wizard said dubiously, running his hands up and down the shaft of his spear staff as if anticipating the attempt. “If it was aligned with fire, I would feel more certain, but I had to prove I could work all four elements to graduate. Yes. I can try to do something.”

“If you’re willing to try to establish contact”—Kaj went to stand next to Xerak and put a hand on his shoulder—“I’ll stand by to give you whatever mana I can.”

“Me, too,” Vereez said. “After all, you’re our teacher, right?”

Grunwold interjected, “One problem. If the three of you are doing magic, I’m manning Slicewind’s wheel, and all three humans are going over the side, who’s going to handle the winches?”

Silence, then Peg said, “Good point. Change of plans. Meg and I are the least useful regarding anything to do with either brute strength or magic, so we’ll go down and leave Teg here. Teg wasn’t planning to use her magic to retrieve Ba Djed, just her delicate touch. We’re not useless in that department. Mothers are good at delicate jobs.”

“From diaper pins to dyeing Easter eggs, to combing tangles out of hair, to . . .” Meg chuckled. “Yes. I think Peg and I can manage, especially if Teg will loan us a few of the brushes from her dig kit.”

Teg nodded. “I suppose you want me to serve as Xerak’s battery, right? That would free up Vereez and Kaj to handle the winches. Who will be the lookout? Meg was crucial to our success last time.”

Peg nodded. “Once Grunwold pointed out the shortcoming of my plan, I started thinking about that. I think I’m going to need to go down alone and leave Meg on high guard.”

Several people tried to protest at once, but Peg waved them down.

“It will be dicey,” Peg said cheerfully, “but if Xerak and Teg can keep the bridge from fading out, I think I’ll be able to manage both getting Ba Djed into its box and tying a rope around Uten Kekui.”

Silence, broken by an explosive curse from Xerak that the translation spell didn’t even attempt to make sense of.

“Peg’s right,” he said. “The only other option is not doing anything to strengthen the bridge, and I don’t think we can take that risk.”

Reluctant nods all around signaled agreement.

“Let’s do it,” Grunwold said, moving to the helm, “and everyone try not to die.”


As Grunwold brought Slicewind around for another pass, Peg set about strapping herself into Kaj’s flying harness. Since Peg was much smaller than Kaj, Teg knotted off the trailing ends to assure a snug fit. While they waited, Vereez, Grunwold, and Kaj started discussing contingency plans until Peg interrupted them.

“Stop fussing. If there’s anything I’ve learned from raising eight kids, it’s that the more complicated a plan gets, the less likely anyone is to remember what they’re supposed to do when the shit hits the fan. So, let’s keep our priorities in mind. We want to retrieve Uten Kekui. That’s first. Second, we want to get Ba Djed.”

“No,” Xerak said. “First priority: we don’t want to lose a single member of our crew.”

Everyone stared at him.

“I know,” he said, his rueful expression and angel-cropped hair combining to make him look rather pathetic, “I’m the fanatic who has been chasing after his master for over a year. I know. However, Master chose to go alone, even when he could have had us as a support team. He’s still making the same mistake he’s been making for lifetimes. I refuse to let any of you have your lives cut short trying to rescue him. So, whatever we do, if it looks as if we’re in danger of losing someone, then we retreat. Maybe we’ll get another chance to rescue Master. Maybe we won’t. But I don’t want any regrets that I have him, but I lost someone else. Got that?”

“Got it,” Peg said. “And good for you. I have a feeling Uten Kekui would approve. Now, who wants to help me over the side?”

In reply, Kaj moved silently over to her, lifting her sturdy form as if it weighed nothing, and resting her behind on the rail. He glanced over to see if everyone was ready.

“Peg, Kaj, give me a moment to get myself composed,” Xerak said as he sat down on the deck, his spear staff over his knees. He closed his eyes and began the breathing exercises he used to build his focus.

Teg sat facing him, cradling her sun spider amulet in both hands. Closing her own eyes, Teg forced her breathing to match Xerak’s cadence. She imagined Xerak as a fire, herself as coal crystalizing into diamond, feeding that fire. She felt the sun spider amulet helping her, approving this fascinating new venture.

At what seemed like a great distance, Teg heard Peg being lowered over the side, the winch turning. Sound had slowed, altering so that the voices and creaking of the ship became groaning and deep, like the sound a spinning vinyl album made when you put your finger on it, forcing it to turn very, very slowly.

Fire blossomed hot, sent out questing tendrils anchored in Teg’s coal. Threading through, together they quested down below Slicewind’s hull, dropping lower, lower, lower . . .

When nothing seemed to happen, Teg wondered if Xerak had failed to link to Ba Djed. Then there was a hiss as if fire had met water. Mist rose and was lit by focused fire, the combination emanating rainbows, rainbows that Xerak now guided to interweave with the shimmering light of the aurora borealis bridge. The rainbows flowed in, currents of color intertwining with the weakened blues and greens and purples of the original bridge.

Contact with the bridge became contact with what rested on the bridge’s span. Peg could be seen, not as a woman, but as the strong, multifaceted, adaptable essence that she was. Teg realized that what she was seeing was that uniqueness that some would call the soul. Uten Kekui, too, became visible, his essence weakened and defused. His many lives were evident in the complexity and depth of his soul’s image.

Then, like a punch in the gut, ice down the back of the neck, there was Ba Djed of the Weaver. Whereas the living things were complex twistings of what must be termed colors or tastes—because metaphor is useful when there are no words—Ba Djed was violently present because of its sheer lack of complexity. It was and it was for a purpose. With that purpose thwarted, all of its wasness had become contained, compacted, the pressure all the more terrible because at some level Ba Djed knew that the means for its fulfillment was close by.

Images flickered through Teg’s thoughts as her metaphor-making mind sought a comparison. The desperate need to pee. Or sneeze. Or breathe. Ba Djed needed release. When it had been in three separate parts, it had channeled that intensity into a desire into be reunited. Now, it needed but one thing more—the body that would let it fulfill its mission, release the pressure, flow forth, explode . . .

Whoever activates that thing is going to need to be careful. It’s going to be like getting hit in the face with a firehose.

Suddenly, while the force of the intensity did not diminish, it was dampened. Teg felt her shoulders sag, only then realizing that she’d been braced as if walking against a powerful wind.

Peg has stuffed Ba Djed into the enshrouding container. The thing’s so powerful its energy is still leaking out, though. Time to worry about that later. We’ve got to hold the bridge together while she gets Uten Kekui into his harness.

Speculations as to what had brought Uten Kekui here, how he had come to collapse, danced distraction at the edges of Teg’s imagination, but she forced herself to concentrate. Xerak continued reinforcing the bridge so that it did not rip apart under the strain of holding Peg as she moved about, but what he was doing was akin to lighting one cigarette off another. He didn’t so much create strength as provide a new material to be destroyed. Xerak needed the mana Teg was feeding him if he was to control the mana he was tapping from Ba Djed and feeding back into the span. Making his task harder was that Ba Djed was trying to tap him, to use him for whatever arcane purpose it felt was being neglected.

They both felt when Peg and Uten Kekui lifted from the bridge but, although they ached to be free of Ba Djed’s probing, Xerak and Teg maintained the bridge. Too clear in Xerak’s mind was the image of the angel’s blade slicing his line, of falling, only to be caught by a hand that barely grasped the back of his harness, of the terrifying moments as Kaj shifted to get a better grip, the tiny jerks at each stage as they were winched aboard, of the dank, sucking wind of Leviathan’s breath beneath them as the monster eagerly anticipated the feast.

No. Xerak would not let the bridge return to its tenuous state until he knew Peg and Uten Kekui were safely aboard Slicewind, and the vessel had turned toward—if not home—at least to a refuge. When they arrived, Cerseru Kham could straighten out what had gone wrong for Uten Kekui. Everything would be . . .

A furious wail that was precisely the sound lightning would make if thunder didn’t make such a fuss tore both Teg and Xerak from their shared trance. Teg forced her eyelids open. Kaj was lifting Uten Kekui over the side rail, while Vereez was helping a sweat-soaked Peg to climb aboard. A tangle of ropes littered the deck.

The wail had burst from between the angel’s perfect lips. As the gigantic head turned to orient on Slicewind, for the first time Teg felt as if those eyes were really seeing them. Before, when the angel had swung its sword at Xerak, the level of awareness had been that of a man swatting at an insect that prickles the back of his neck.

Now the awareness was so acute that Teg wanted to crumple to her knees and hide in the darkness behind her eyes, hide as she had when her grandmother would get drunk and begin throwing insults around like ice grenades: hard and cold and cutting. Xerak also began to crumple, but grabbed his spear staff, and shoved the butt against the deck so he could stand tall.

Teg made herself get to her feet as well, gripping the sun spider amulet with one hand, bracing the other on the nearest rail. She wanted to meet the angel’s gaze, stare back defiantly, but it was impossible to meet eyes that huge.

People always talk about getting lost in someone’s eyes, Teg thought irreverently. You could definitely drown in those baby blues.

At the angel’s wail, the others had also turned, although none of them looked quite as shocked as did Teg and Xerak.

Probably because we were tuned in to other senses than the classic five. We’re not just hearing with our ears, seeing with our eyes, but catching something on the magical frequencies as well.

Then Teg realized that one other was reeling back, perhaps the last person she would have expected to be so hard hit: Kaj. His ears were pinned against his skull and the dark brown of his eyes showed white all around. He staggered back a few steps, then stumbled and halted beside Teg.

“Ooh, boy!” Peg exclaimed, her entire person wild with the adrenaline of a danger met and matched. “I think Winged Boy realizes we got its toys away from it. Can you get us out of here, Grunwold?”

Grunwold was struggling with Slicewind’s helm. Certainly, there was wind enough, but no matter how he shifted the masts or angled the craft, the gusts refused to fill the sails.

“Emergency wind?” Vereez offered, moving toward the locker in which the precious stuff was kept.

“Not yet!” Grunwold said. “Something’s wrong with the controls. They’re not responding as they should. I’m going to need to take us down to the water.”

“But that huge fish,” Vereez began, then Meg cut her off.

Meg called out, “The angel is leaving its post. It’s launching into the air and flying right for us.” More softly, she added, “I’m never going to be able to look at an angel tree the same way. That thing brings the awe back to awesome.”

“I hadn’t forgotten the fish, Vereez,” Grunwold said. “Let’s just hope it stays to guard the bridge, since Winged Boy is heading for us.”

Kaj tore his gaze away from the approaching angel. “Teg, Vereez, it’s got to be us who stops that thing. Xerak’s blown. Uten Kekui is out cold. I’ve an idea . . . Can you help me?”

The angel was circling them now, close enough that each beat of its massive wings made the sails flap and cut whitecaps on the waters. At least for now, there seemed no need for Leviathan to assist. The angel was doing a great job of supplying tempest without any useful wind.

“If I can,” Teg said firmly, “I will.”

Vereez didn’t speak, but she took a few steps toward Kaj to show she was listening.

“Don’t leave me out,” Xerak said, staggering over to join them. “Peg, give me the enshrouding container holding Ba Djed.”

Peg did, and Kaj didn’t waste time arguing, but started explaining his plan, words tumbling over each other in his haste.

“I don’t think that Winged Boy is supposed to be able to come this far away from the bridge. Don’t ask me why. A feeling. Winged Boy can come here because only one of the three great artifacts is working right.”

The tense group of listeners didn’t even nod, just waited, all too aware of how Slicewind was rocking on the suddenly choppy sea.

“I can feel Qes Wen,” Kaj continued. “The awareness started after we came through the tunnel, but I had no idea what it was. I only realized what it was I’d been feeling when Xerak and I were dangling over the bridge. If you help me, I think I can claim Qes Wen, direct it. Or maybe, it’ll direct me. It’s already reaching into this area, but it’s crippled. Like Ba Djed, it needs a living person to work through.”

Teg remembered what she’d felt before Peg had boxed Ba Djed: that urgent need to do something, the frustration of being unable to do so.

“Kaj, you’ve had even less training than I have. Can you handle something that powerful?”

Kaj shrugged. “Qes Wen is conditioned to being used by someone of my father’s bloodline. If Brunni would have done, I should do better. Besides, right now I’m not worrying about long-term damage, not when the alternative is us getting drowned or chopped to bits.”

“So what . . .” Xerak began.

“We don’t have time for complex plans,” Peg interrupted. Her mad gaiety had vanished, but her intensity remained. “Kaj, what do you want us to do?”

“Like I said, I think I can connect with Qes Wen, but I’m going to need some time. Can you keep that ‘angel’”—he used the English word—“back while I do?”

Vereez looked at Teg. In answer, Teg raised her sun spider amulet.

“Vereez and I will handle distracting the angel. Xerak, you be ready to use Ba Djed to help Kaj link with Qes Wen.” She shook her head when Kaj would have argued. “No. I’m right in this. Trust me. You two help the great artifacts do whatever they’re supposed to do. Me and Vereez will be fine.”

Grunwold asked, his tones just a little mocking, although who that mockery was directed at was anyone’s guess. “And the rest of us?”

“You keep Slicewind from flipping,” Teg snapped impatiently.

Peg trotted over and gave Grunwold a one-armed a squeeze around his trim waist. “Don’t sulk. We’re just as important as they are—more. Kaj might fail. Even if Vereez and Teg succeed in distracting the angel, you’re the one who can sail Slicewind out of this weird place.”

Grunwold snorted, but his grip on the wheel tightened and he leveled his gaze on the circling angel. “First thing I’m going to do when we’re home and settled is get some weapons mounted on this boat.”

His words sparked an idea. Teg turned to Vereez.

“Remember back when we first stole Slicewind? How Xerak used fireballs? Can you do something like that—air balls or directed gusts or something?”

Vereez grinned. “How about arrows? I can envision those more easily than spheres. A creature that flies isn’t going to like anything that disturbs the air.”

“Aim your shots for the angel’s wings,” Teg suggested. “We don’t need to injure it, just make it unstable enough that it’ll retreat.”

“That’ll be easier,” Vereez said. “I was having trouble thinking anything could dent that hide. It looks so . . .”

“Don’t think about it,” Teg said. “That kind of thinking will only get in your way. Concentrate on making your arrows.”

She moved to stand slightly behind Vereez, close enough that she had to widen her stance so she didn’t pinch the young woman’s bushy fox tail. Placing one hand on the side of Vereez’s neck, the other on her sun spider amulet, Teg matched Vereez’s breathing, closed her eyes, and envisioned herself as a sort of quiver from which Vereez could draw upon at need.

Vereez liked the image. Teg felt the equivalent of a quick grin through their bond. Then Vereez was stretching, one hand held as if it gripped the shaft of a bow, the other pulling back an invisible string. The index and middle fingers of her right hand were slightly apart, as if an arrow butt was balanced between them. When Vereez released the invisible shaft, Teg glimpsed it soaring forth, visible only as a current in the air.

Whether the angel didn’t see Vereez’s shot, or if it saw it and disregarded it, Teg wasn’t sure. However, it could not disregard the narrow bolt that passed through one wing, sending feathers flying.

Somewhere in the distance that was the world outside the spell, Teg was aware of Peg cheering. She kept her focus tight on Vereez, feeling the younger woman’s anger and resentment directing her to aim the next arrow at the upper edge of the wing, doubtless with the hope of hitting bone. Teg soothed the younger woman, reminded her that they didn’t have either time or energy for tricky shots. The angel must be distracted until Xerak and Kaj did whatever it was they were trying to do.

Vereez settled down and concentrated. As the angel realized that someone was attacking it, it began to move around, not so much dodging as avoiding irritation.

Meg assigned herself the role of spotter. “Next shot further to the right, Vereez. Good. Now up a bit. Ah! Feathers flew that time. The angel is shifting to the left now.”

On the edges of her attention, Teg felt Kaj’s attempts to orient the flailing Qes Wen on himself. No matter that the great artifact was clearly aware of him, connecting wasn’t proving quite as easy as, say, pulling a sword from a stone. Xerak was advising Kaj, but couldn’t intervene. Not only did he need to reserve most of his own strength for when he’d need to open the enshrouding container and deal with the unruly artifact contained within, but it wouldn’t do to confuse Qes Wen. Powerful the great artifacts might be; brilliant they were not.

Vereez was beginning to flag. Teg—who had not long before channeled mana to Xerak—started wondering if it would be better to burn herself out completely or hold back and be prepared to get the baptism of all time when the pissed-off angel sank Slicewind. Then, something changed.

As so often was the case with magic, Teg struggled to find words. Can you hear sunrise? See the odor of peppermint crushed with rock salt? Taste jubilation?

Something like that was what crashed into her and Vereez when Kaj finally got Qes Wen to perceive him. Teg’s skin shivered beneath the touch of indigo; her ears heard the cry of riced watermelon. Her eyes were already closed, but Teg saw as clear as day when Xerak opened the enshrouding container, preparatory to giving Ba Djed permission to claim him, so that the bridge between the worlds could be . . . respun?

Shedding feathers, the angel began to back away from Slicewind, not though, Teg knew, because she and Vereez had beaten it.

Kaj guessed right. The angel could leave its post guarding the bridge because the bridge was beginning not to exist. Now that Cerseru Kham and Kaj have taken charge of two of the great artifacts, the angel is being recalled to its duty. When Xerak does whatever he has to do to convince Ba Djed to acknowledge him, then . . .

Her exhausted mind was struggling to complete the thought, her relief intertwining with vague apprehensions as to what this might mean for Xerak. Would Uten Kekui be relieved or insulted? Would Xerak have a sufficient sense of purpose to control Ba Djed, especially now that their lives were no longer in impending danger?

Vereez let her bow lapse into air and slumped back into Teg. The two of them began a slow-motion crash onto the deck. Teg heard Peg’s feet thumping across the deck toward them.

This is going to hurt, Teg was thinking, when Peg caught her, cushioning her fall.

“Thanks,” Teg managed, but she wondered if she was starting to hallucinate for, at the edge of her line of sight, something large seemed to be rolling across the deck toward Xerak.

“Xerafu Akeru,” the resonant voice bellowed, “stop!”

That’s Uten Kekui’s voice. And he’s rolling because something’s wrong with his legs.

Xerak stopped, his fingers just inches from Ba Djed. “Master?”

“Give me Ba Djed,” Uten Kekui ordered. “I can do this. I must do this!”

Xerak’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but new gusts as the angel began to move closer again reminded him there was no time. He tilted the enshrouding container, holding his own hand out, as if to let Ba Djed choose.

Uten Kekui’s hand darted out, and he caught Ba Djed by its spindle. He pressed both palms together and began to rub the spindle between them. Although he had no wool to work, a thread began to appear, rising and covering the “Nest” portion of the artifact. The bronze bird dipped its head and began plucking at the threads in a rhythmic dip and rise, dip and rise. With each rise, a length of billowing fabric appeared, rapidly shaping into a floating net.

Xerak gripped Uten Kekui under his elbows and hoisted him so he could sit upright, leaning against Xerak’s legs. Kaj stepped to stand beside the pair. He did not hold Qes Wen, but instead slowly swung a lasso, its rope of many colors, each distinct but blurring into white as he swung it into a loop over his head.

Cerseru Kham, ghostly but absolute in her presence, appeared. She held Maet Pexer high, spinning the wheel to generate a tangle of intent that enhanced both net and lasso so that they moved as if alive. The threat was clear. Kaj would catch and pin those proud wings. Uten Kekui would net Leviathan.

The angel, servant of the powers of Law whose enforcer was Death, was the first to break. It saw its own death and fled. Landing at the base of the Bridge of Lives, it resumed its watchful stance. Only the massive bulk of scattered feathers drifting on the now-stilled waters proved that it had ever left its post. Leviathan sank beneath the waves, the only evidence of its presence the roiling of the dark-green waters as it swam back to its place beneath the attenuated span.

“The bridge is still weak,” Kaj said.

“Yes. We must respin the Bridge of Lives,” Cerseru Kham agreed. “I will lead.”

Maet Pexer the Assessor’s Wheel stayed itself but became, somehow, also, a spinning wheel. Cerseru Kham reached out and grabbed Kaj’s lasso and Uten Kekui’s net. These became the raw fleece that she transformed into bright iridescent threads of purpose and commitment, of resolve, of a raw, arrogant assertion that death was not the end of life, only a stopping point, a breathing space, truly just a form of sleep.

Ba Djed began to turn like a top on Uten Kekui’s palm, then gripped the new thread and darted toward the Bridge of Lives. In the far distance, rising from the flat green waters, grew a tree.

Qes Wen of the Entangled Tree stood in for the roots of the world, anchoring one end of the Bridge of Lives. When, after long eons that might only have been seconds, the Bridge of Lives shone bright and strong, Qes Wen sank beneath those waves.

Ba Djed returned (had it ever been truly gone?) to Uten Kekui. When it did, Uten Kekui collapsed, crumpling to one side, his fingers relaxing as if to grasp Ba Djed, but his hand fell slack before he could take hold. Nonetheless, the artifact rose and balanced upon Uten Kekui’s palm, at an angle ninety degrees to reality.

“It has accepted him,” Xerak said, “and he it.”

Cerseru Kham, fading now, said, “Come back now. I will hold the doorway for you. Heru will show you the way.”

“I’m glad that big fish didn’t join in on the attack,” Grunwold said, as he spun his newly responsive helm and began to sail Slicewind in the wake of the green-and-orange mini pterodactyl. “It could have had us in less than a gulp. By the way, good job, Kaj. Good job all of you. I didn’t think we were going to get out of there.”

“Thanks, Grunwold,” Kaj said. He looked somehow different. Teg thought that maybe it was because he didn’t have that chip on his shoulder anymore. He’d done something. He was a hero in his own right, not just the rejected bastard of a nameless father.

“I’m beat,” Vereez said from where she rested against Teg, who in turn rested against Peg. “But I feel good.”

Before she could voice her own agreement, exhaustion choked the breath from Teg’s lungs. She slumped back, aware of Peg’s voice saying from somewhere far, far away, “Sleep. We’ll take over from here.”


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Framed