THE DEVOURED EARTH

The Fourth Book of the Cataclysm

by Sean Williams

"What does it mean to be human? It's more than the right number of arms, legs, fingers and toes, the ability to talk, and walking upright. It's more than the Change and the art we make. It's more than all of this, and less. We follow a path through the realms that makes us uniquely different to any other creature. Not all the realms, for there are more than we can imagine, of every possible flavour and logic. We inhabit just three, and they define our character as surely as a fish is defined by the sea or a snake by the earth.

"That's not to say that we can't aspire to transcend the limitations of our environment. We are dreamers, we humans, and what lies outside has always held a fascination. But we must remember that the achievement of that dream carries a high price. Sometimes the boundary is too easy to cross. We should not lightly set aside our humanity, because it's not always possible to get it back."

A Scribe's Book of Questions

"Prologue"

Out of the darkness, something came--something as alien to the human mind as it was to the world humans inhabited. It passed through realms as easily as a beast might cross a stream, yet it was not, by nature, a wanderer. It possessed desires no earthly being had ever imagined; it craved satiation in ways beyond description.

It hungered.

But it told itself to be patient. Its time was nearing. Soon, the waiting and watching would be over, and the human world would know its face.

Then its need, finally, would be fulfilled.

"The Breach"

"What is the shape of the world? The answer to that question depends entirely on where you standing."

A Scribe's Book of Questions

Everything hurt. Skender could barely move without confronting that grim reality. From the pounding of his temples to the chill biting at his toes, not one part of his body had been spared. His appetite was nonexistent, he was unable to sleep, and when he stood up too fast, his head spun like a top. The tea brewed by Griel and his two Panic balloonists to ward off the worst of the symptoms filled his bladder faster even than ordinary tea, so he spent much of every day with his legs tightly crossed.

He refused to say anything, though, and not just because he knew everyone aboard the blimp was feeling the same effects of their staggered ascent as him. The memories of his rough treatment at Chu's hands during the water-sickness incident were still fresh. That she was as sick as him this time wouldn't stop a repeat performance, if she saw an opportunity.

He felt her watching him even as he concentrated on Mage Kelloman's sun-catching charm. Opening one eye a crack, he saw her standing at the fore of the boat-like gondola, near Griel. Her black hair caught the sunlight and glowed with mahogany highlights. The skin of her cheeks was as golden-brown as the wooden instrument panel before her. Dressed in a heavy wool overcoat and gloves, she had swivelled slightly to look back at him. A faint smile floated on her full lips. His whole body tingled in response.

The blimp was the biggest balloon he had ever seen, and the enclosed gondola it supported was roomy enough for thirty people, but he had never craved privacy so much as he had during every moment of their journey so far. Barely had she told him her heart-name than they had been whisked out of the Panic city and taken to Milang, where Marmion had been coordinating the biggest expedition, according to local records, ever mounted to the very top of the mountains. Since then, the only moments they'd found to be alone came very late at night, when everyone else was asleep, or during brief mountaineering expeditions while the blimp was moored to a jagged cliff face. And even then, with altitude sickness clawing at their guts and skulls, there was only so much they felt like doing.

Hana, he whispered to himself. Hana, I think I--

"Eyes on the job, my boy," said a gruff, high-pitched voice from beside him. "Eyes on the job, or you and your friend will never get a second's peace again."

Skender clenched his eyes shut and ignored the red-hot flush rising up to fill his cheeks. He hadn't meant his thoughts to wander so much, let alone leak to the point where Mage Kelloman could pick up the details.

"I'm sorry," he said, clutching at the shreds of his concentration, and his dignity. "I didn't mean--"

"Don't get your tights in a tangle." The Mage Kelloman's slender hand touched his shoulder. "We all feel it. We're tired and impatient, easily distracted. But the end is in sight. By this night's fall, we could finally be on level ground. And then, think of it: so much stone and bedrock to explore! None of this scavenging for the sun's meagre rays. We'll have real power then, boy. We'll be in our element."

"What's that, Mage Kelloman?" came Sky Warden Eisak Marmion's voice from the fore of the gondola. "Is the strain proving too much? We could pause and allow you a breather, if you'd like."

"I certainly would not," the mage said, his tone artificially crisp. "I was merely remarking to my young friend here that we could provide a little more lift. If you can handle it, of course."

Marmion titled his head. "More lift, not less? Are you sure?"

"As sure as eggs. I for one am keen to stretch my legs."

"You speak for us all, I suspect." A rustle of agreement swept through the gondola, from Griel and the Panic tending the balloon's stays and control surfaces to Lidia Delfine. Even the Twins, so often caught in their own private world, nodded.

"Very well, then. One final push and it will be done. Thank you, Mage Kelloman. When you're ready, we'll put your extra effort to good use."

Kelloman bowed with exaggerated dignity, giving the body of his host--a young woman whose mind had long since fled--gravitas far beyond its years.

"What do you think you're doing?" Skender hissed to him as the wardens returned to the charms made by Panic engineers and reinforced by foresters in Milang. "We're stretched too thin as it is!"

"Quiet, boy." The mage made a minute adjustment to the charm scorched onto the wooden floor of the gondola at his feet. "We have work to do."

"But--"

"Work. This isn't a holiday, you know."

Skender swallowed his irritation and sought the still centre required to shore up the mage's effort. Their job was simple: to draw energy from the sun and channel it into the balloon's many charms, where Griel, Chu and Marmion ensured its employment against thinning air and strengthening winds. Skender felt, however, that Kelloman was putting too much emphasis on their end of the deal. Yes, he was the only mage for hundreds of kilometres and, outnumbered on all fronts, correspondingly determined to make his presence felt. But that didn't justify nearly killing them both in the process.

Forty pinpricks made him jump as the mage's pet--a tiny brown-furred bilby with pointed ears and big eyes--leapt into his lap and climbed onto his shoulder. He patted it, encouraging it to settle.

"Concentrate, boy," the mage growled through his borrowed lips, and Skender willed himself to stop thinking entirely. Through the Change and his link with Kelloman, he dissolved into the charms enveloping the skin of the blimp. As well as being larger than any other balloon in the forest, it was easily one of the most complex machines he had ever seen. From the glowing rotors thrumming outside the gondola, two each to port and starboard, to the web of charms maintaining everything from elevation to insulation, the blimp required constant attention to make sure it functioned as required.

A strong gust of wind shook the blimp, making his stomach lurch. His eyes opened automatically, just for a second. Chu was at the controls, helping Griel adjust their flight. Beyond the windows was nothing but blue sky to the west, black and grey everywhere else. The monstrous mountain range still loomed over them, even as they approached its summit. And Kelloman wanted to turn it to his advantage! Sometimes that thought made Skender want to laugh. Other times it made him want to turn tail and hide.

Instead, he simply crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.

#

They had left Milang six days earlier, ascending into the clouds three dawns after the fire that had nearly burned the forest city to the ground. The mission was a cooperative venture; everyone caught up in the awakening of forces from the previous Cataclysm had joined together to see what lay to the northeast, where the Twins assured them the greatest threat lay. No one knew quite what to expect. Skender didn't take any encouragement from floods, murderous wraiths, earthquakes and man'kin invasions--but with no seers remaining to peer into the future all they had to go on were a smattering of hints, from prophecies old and new, plus their own wits.

A series of delicate soundings taken from Milang and at several points along their journey unveiled the shape of the mountain range beyond the region known to the Panic and the foresters. It was, in fact, several mountain ranges combined--at least seven converging on a central point, like a giant starfish or spider with limbs reaching across the plains. At the intersection of those limbs, the earth bulged up in a mighty rupture. This, the highest point of the mountain ranges, was the mission's primary destination. Kelloman's soundings weren't clear enough to tell what exactly lay there, but he spoke in guarded terms of a circular patch of elevated land several kilometres across. The peaks surrounding that land were unstable, shaking and rumbling under the influence of forces Skender could barely imagine.

When the balloon reached the uppermost limits of the forester's knowledge, then flew beyond even the Panic's charts, they relied on Kelloman's soundings to find a way through steep valleys and broad fissures, rising further and further with every hour. On the second day, they punched through the uppermost layers of the permanent cloud cover hugging the lower expanses and found themselves flying for the first time in clear air. From then on, navigation became somewhat easier, but the daunting mass of mountain still looming above them reminded them never to become complacent. Vast shelfs of snow and ice awaited them, more dangerous in their own way than cloud. The balloon couldn't fly continuously, and safe docking points became harder and harder to find. The sound of whining chimerical engines echoed off sheer rock faces, occasionally triggering avalanches of stupendous proportions.

Yet, despite the hostile conditions, there were signs of life. Streamers of smoke rose from small communities huddling in sheltered niches. Paths crisscrossed several more accessible regions, linking caves almost invisible until the balloon came directly alongside them. Once, when surmounting a broad spur and coming into view of the valley beyond, the mission had been confronted by a vast, flat roof large enough to cover two Milangs. Canted at a steep angle to prevent snow from building up, it sheltered nearly a third of the valley below. Exactly what it protected was unknown to either Panic or forester, and was likely to remain that way, for nothing and no one emerged to stare at the intruder in the skies. Few did anywhere, made cautious by the events of recent weeks.

Everywhere they went they saw evidence of the flood. Deep channels that diverged and joined traced a complex path down the side of the mountains. It soon became clear that that the torrent that had filled the Divide had taken many routes from its source. Several of these channels had played havoc with the region's struggling communities, sweeping away animals, crops and homes. Some of the channels were still carrying water that surged and roiled foamily as it fell. One waterfall dropped so far that from its middle Skender could see neither top nor bottom. For one enchanting but unnerving hour he could pretend that flow was literally endless.

By the fourth day, he had begun to wonder if their journey, too, might have no end. Upwards and upwards they strove, snatching every meter of altitude from a reluctant sky. With painful slowness the cloud level dropped away and the vista of jagged, twisted stone below them became even more terrifying, yet the summit, visible only as a dark line against the sky far above, seemed to come no closer. The strain on the balloon's mingled crew increased, with altitude sickness taking a severe toll on minds and bodies that would have been fatigued anyway.

Nowhere was that more obvious than in the rivalry between Kelloman and Marmion. The air had always been tense between the two men, both ambitious and masters of their own very different disciplines. That tension presently manifested in the form of fiercely pitched battles of pointed politeness. Skender, caught up in the ongoing campaign since he was nearly a mage himself and therefore the only ally Kelloman had to lean on, found his impatience rising with both men. What was the point of expending so much energy on pointless one-upmanship? It only made the rest of the crew more uncomfortable than they would otherwise have been. The latest manifestation of that repressed conflict was no different.

A long, sustained shudder rippled through the gondola, sending the Panic crew scurrying about, checking instruments and adjusting control surfaces. One opened a hatch in the ceiling and slipped quickly outside. A wave of bitter cold swept down the interior to where Skender knelt at the back, doing his best to concentrate. He shuddered in sympathy despite the thick layers of thermal underwear under his black robe. The caulking around the gondola's joins and seams was far from perfect, allowing hair-thin, knife-sharp breezes to slash past his ears. The outside was colder still.

He stole another peek forward. Marmion had joined Chu and Griel. All three peered up and out the pilot's window.

"That looks promising," Skender heard Chu say. "And about time too."

"Fifty metres to the summit," the warden announced to the crew in general. "There's a pass near the top. We're aiming for that. Once through and out of this wind, the going should be steadier."

So close! Skender thought, but it still seemed another world away. He remembered something the twins had said once about the Second Realm being next to the First in the sense that one second was next to another. They occupied the same space, and yet were quite separate, and crossing from one to the other could be incredibly difficult. That was how he felt about the top of the mountains. It was there, and had always been, but getting to it had proven far from easy.

"Would you like to rest before the final push?" asked Kelloman without either opening his eyes or moving from his meditative posture. "If the wind is problematic--"

"That won't be necessary," said Marmion with a faint smile. "In fact, I thought we might increase the pace. There's no point holding back now. The sooner we get to the top, the sooner we can rest."

"Why not?" Behind Kelloman's nonchalant reply, Skender sensed exhaustion and determination in equal measure. "I'll give you all the potential you need."

"Right, then. Let's get on with it."

Someone groaned. Skender couldn't tell who, but he echoed the sentiment. Not for the first time, Skender wished Sal were there to help them. With his wild talent behind the push upwards, the journey would be over in moments. But Sal had his own quest to pursue.

Mage Kelloman resumed his concentration on the sun-catching charms. The gondola's engines throbbed at a deeper pitch, casting a golden light on the cliff face as the blimp resumed its upward journey. Fifty metres didn't sound like far; Skender could have walked it with no effort at all. But walking was very different from flying, especially so close to the theoretical limits of powered balloon travel. Every metre was a challenge

"That's the way," Marmion said. "That's the way." He ran a hand across his bald scalp. The last of his hair had fallen out on the long journey, leaving his head as smooth and round as an egg. "One last push and it'll be over."

"You're in entirely the wrong field, you know," said Chu. "Have you ever considered midwifery?"

Marmion didn't rise to the bait. The blimp seemed to be hanging dead in the air, its upward drift was so subtle.

"Mage Kelloman, a skerrick more oomph if you wouldn't mind. The charms are at their breaking point."

"A skerrick? Why, certainly." The mage's voice was frostily formal, and he did find the extra potential from somewhere.

"That's the way," Marmion breathed again.

The words became a mantra Skender clung to as the metres slid slowly by. He lacked the perspective of those at the front of the gondola, but he could make out the cliff face through the nearest window. It was moving, slowly but surely.

The blimp swayed above them, rattling the gondola's occupants like nails in a tin.

"Hold fast," Marmion encouraged them all, moving down the gondola's central aisle, brushing shoulders with his one hand. The other arm hung close to his gut, wrapped in the folds of his blue-clad sleeve. "We're almost there. Almost..."

Skender closed his eyes tightly and put everything he had into the final stretch. He saw nothing but the complex curves and axes of the sun-catching charm; he felt nothing but the sun's potential as it swept through him and into the interstices of the blimp. Kelloman's mind blazed feverishly beside his, a shining example to follow. Yet there was something dangerous about that fire too, as though it could in a second turn on itself, and consume the mind that stoked it. If Kelloman's concentration faltered for a second, if the sun's output changed even minutely...

Wind struck the blimp from an unexpected direction, prompting a new series of rattles and creaks, and a rising mutter of voices. His eyes flickered open. He blinked to focus them. The gondola hung broadside-on to the cliff face. Through the window nearest him on the starboard side he saw the bottom of a massive cleft in the dark stone. As though a giant sword had hacked a notch in the uppermost ramparts of the mountains, the sides of the cleft were step and jagged. Its V-shaped base was clogged with dirty snow. Wind rushed down it with a sustained roaring sound, making the blimp sway. The vessel shook as concentrations failed and charms flickered. It held its position, just.

Wisps of cloud wreathed the sides of the cleft. Skender strained to see through them to what lay on the other side of the wall of stone. It was thicker than he had imagined, however. All he could see was the cleft itself, snaking off into the distance like some high altitude version of the Divide.

"Well," said Marmion, "it appears we still have some way to go."

"Forward will be a welcome change to up," Chu said, prompting a chorus of agreement from human and Panic alike.

"Indeed it will. Mage Kelloman, I thank you for your hard work and suggest your conserve your strength through this section of our journey. We have enough potential in reserve to fly some distance. Let us and Griel take the burden from here."

The mage looked for a moment as though he might argue, but exhaustion won out over pride for once. "I--yes, thank you. I will rest for a moment."

Skender helped the mage's borrowed body to its feet and eased him into a chair. He was surprised as always by Kelloman's slightness

"The way looks clear of obstructions," Marmion told the others, "but the winds are going to be tricky. Keep it steady as we go. We haven't come this far to crash."

And get stuck, Skender added silently to himself, at the top of a mountain so far from home.

The propellers whirred at a deeper pitch than before, turning the blimp around to face nose-first into the window. The deck rose and fell beneath him with a steady rhythm as they slid gracefully into the cleft. Skender peered out either side of the gondola, newly energised by the achievement of their quest and unable to sit passively by as the next stage unfolded. Lidia Delfine and her bodyguard-cum-fiancée, Heuve, did the same. Snow drifts as thick as houses lay below, hugging folds and wrinkles the pallid sun couldn't breach. Nothing but granite was visible between them, black and forbidding like ancient, stained bones.

#

The twins had had too much time to stare out the windows as the endless grey cliff slid by, interrupted by ledges, ramparts, shelfs of snow, and mighty fissures, but essentially unchanging. Rock was rock. In their original earthly life they had been used to landscapes where time and nature had flattened the land like teeth worn down by grinding. They hadn't seen snow or mountains until their disastrous trip to Europe. There, Seth had been murdered by the agents of Yod in order to bring the First and Second Realms together. There, the old world had died.

The eyes of the Homunculus, the artificial body in which they were now confined, glazed over as the walls of the cleft slid by. Their previous disconnection from the world had faded at last; there was no hiding now from its complexities and perils. The same was true of themselves; their memories had cleared as though a curtain had parted. Where unwillingness or uncertainty had shielded them from the worst of their pasts, now nothing protected them. The feel of Locyta's knife stabbing into Seth's chest; the draci straddling Hadrian; the confrontation with the Sisters of the Flame...

In Sheol, under the guidance of the Sisters, they had each explored their life-trees--the many-branched tangle of possibilities that revealed every conceivable event in their lives from the perspective of the Third Realm. Only in one world-line--one long, tapering branch--had they seen a chance of escape from their fated deaths at the hands of Yod. Hadrian had followed that world-line to the point where it suddenly diverged into possibility again, and there he had stopped. There he had seen a chance that Yod would fail. That had been enough to give him hope.

Both of them now wished that he had gone further, to see what actual chance awaited them. How would Yod be beaten? What did the twins need to do to ensure their survival? Who, out of those who had helped and hindered them since their arrival in the new world, would live and who would die? Skender, Marmion and the others had been strangers once, but were no longer. They mattered too.

Either way, Yod was back, rattling at the bars if not yet fully free. It had devoured the Lost Minds in the Void Beneath, gaining strength for...something. With every day's ascent, they felt its shadow growing darker and stronger, looming deeper and more ominously. Now, with the end of their journey so very close, the shadow sucked at them like a black hole, tugging them onward and inward to their destiny.

Reflected in the window facing the cliff, they saw the black face of the Homunculus staring back at them. A shadow with hard edges, it had no recognisable features: no eyes, no nostrils, no wrinkles, no personality at all.

Who's an ugly boy, then? whispered Seth into Hadrian's mind.

Hadrian felt absurdly like laughing--but the feeling had gloom at its heart as dark as the Homunculus's aspect. I reckon we've lost weight.

Something glowing with a faint silver light caught their eye, deeper in the reflection. They leaned closer to the pane of glass in order to see more clearly. The reflection of the Homunculus's face seemed to swallow the entire view.

What's that? he asked. Low in his view was a shining cross, roughly where his chest might have been.

Not a cross, little brother. An ankh.

Hadrian understood, then. In the Second Realm, Seth had confronted eight godlike beings known as the Ogdoad. The ancient sign they had marked him with had enabled them to survive in the Void Beneath when so many other minds had not. Seth had taken the mark for granted for centuries, and Hadrian had had no reason to think of it. Only at that moment did they realise what a great boon it had been.

It stopped us from dissolving into the hum, Seth said.

So we thought. But we know now that the hum was Yod itself, which means--

It protects us from Yod, Hadrian finished. Does that mean Yod can't kill us?

Don't get too excited. Maybe it just stops Yod from noticing us.

Hadrian leaned away from the reflection, and his brother came with him. Still, it's something.

It is indeed.

The twins pondered the new understanding of themselves as the blimp traversed the wall of mountains. The Homunculus was immune to altitude sickness, but cold bothered it. They were sleeping more and more, the higher they went, sometimes as long as three hours a night, and their dreams were spectacular. In one of them, Yod had looked like a giant clown whose mouth was the entrance to a glittering fairground. Rows upon rows of people queued patiently and filed inside. The clown's eyes grew redder and darker as they filled up with blood until finally they spilled a flood of crimson tears down grimacing cheeks and swept the twins away.

Skender came and sat next to them, bunching up his black robe in order to keep the drafts from his stockinged legs.

"What do you think?" he asked them. The white-skinned young mage wasn't looking at them or his girlfriend, for a change; his attention was firmly fixed on what lay beyond the windows.

Only then did Hadrian realise that they had almost reached the end of the cleft. People peered and whispered excitedly among themselves at the first glimpses of their destination. His first impression was that a whole other range lay in the misty distance--as though they had crossed one barrier only to encounter another just as large beyond it. Then he realised that the northern and southern ends of that range curved west to form a giant circle.

"A crater," Seth said. "Like a volcano, only much bigger."

"I've read about volcanoes in the Book of Towers," Skender said. "They're mountains that vomit fire and ash, right?"

Seth nodded, studying the far side of the crater with unease. The jagged peaks were white with ice and snow as though dusted by a giant baker.

"A volcano with a lake in it?" asked Chu, overhearing and pointing ahead and down. Just coming into sight was the shore of a mighty body of water. The crater was flooded, filled halfway up its steep sides with run-off from the surrounding peaks.

"How could there be a lake up here?" Skender asked. "Why hasn't it frozen over?"

"Both good questions," said Warden Banner, seated not far from them with a crutch held tightly in her hand. Since breaking her leg during the attack of the Swarm on Milang, she had been confined to light duties. "Here's another: are those houses down there?"

Sure enough, on the southern shoreline of the lake huddled a cluster of low, black roofed dwellings, perhaps forty in all, with a long, narrow pier protruding into the water.

No, the twins told themselves on a closer inspection. Not into the water. The shoreline had dropped precipitously in recent times, by the look of the frosty mud caked below its original high-mark. Now the houses stood twenty metres back from the actual shore, and the pier led to nothing but more mud. There were no boats visible anywhere.

"Who would live up here?" asked Griel.

"Maybe no one, now," said Marmion, and Seth could see his point. No smoke issued from the houses; no people walked the village's narrow streets.

Skender looked disappointed. "I was expecting something grander, I'll admit."

"Be careful what you wish for," Hadrian told him. "I've had enough excitement for one lifetime."

"Two, even," Seth added.

"True, true," Skender said. "Do you recognise anything? Is any of this familiar to you?"

Hadrian shook his head.

"Look at the lake," said his brother, pointing with one black finger. "They're not islands."

Attention shifted from the village to the centre of the lake. Three broad columns stood out of the water, dozens of metres high and as black as jet. One loomed higher than the others, its top truncated as though sheered off by a giant knife. The light caught it and radiated sickly gleams.

"Tower Aleph," Seth said. "That's from the Second Realm."

"So you do recognise something?" Marmion asked, peering as closely at the twins as he was at the distant structures.

"What Seth's saying," said Hadrian, "is that these are the tops of three towers Yod was building before it made the big leap. They were supposed act as bridges across Bardo when the Cataclysm took effect. We stopped Yod in its tracks, of course, so I guess these got stuck halfway too."

"I've never heard of them," said Skender. "You'd think they'd be at least mentioned in the Book of Towers."

The twins had no opinion on that, just a similar, nagging feeling of being left in the dark.

Skender glanced at his girlfriend at the other end of the gondola. The Asian-looking miner from Laure winked back at him. Embarrassed, the twins looked away. The mutual obsession between the two young lovers reminded them of cold nights in Europe and an unhappy ending in Stockholm, long ago...

Something moved out of the corner of Hadrian's eye. On the receding flanks of the cleft, a long-limbed, grey figure broke cover and took a running leap across the space between it and the gondola. The twins barely had time to recognise the terrible shape before another followed. There was no mistaking their intent. The two hideous creatures leapt with limbs flailing and steel-grey teeth bared. Long-bladed scissors snipped where hands should have been.

"Watch out!" Seth yelled.

Then all was breaking glass and shrieking wind, and the terrible clash of eight blades snipping at everything in reach.

#

Devels? Here? Impossible!

Seth ignored his brother's mental protest and pushed Skender behind him. His hands went through the young mage's back until Hadrian added his own impetus to the shove. They forced their way up the aisle to where Panic and wardens struggled with this new danger. Both groups were exhausted from the long ascent. Any reserves of strength they possessed would be sorely tested.

Seth and Hadrian forced their way through with necessary brusqueness. The two scissor-handed devels lunged and snapped at anyone within reach, issuing terrible, ear-piercing howls. One of the balloonists fell back with her throat fatally cut. A roar came from one side, where the bodyguard Heuve slashed ferociously back at the nearest devel. The forester looked almost grateful for something to do, but the expression was soon wiped off his beardless face--almost literally, as a pair of blades barely missed his nose. Only a wild lunge backwards saved him, and a skilful parry from Lidia Delfine defended his exposed stomach from another slash.

Together, the two of them drove their adversaries back to the fore of the gondola, where Marmion and Chu were guarded by Griel. Seth shouted at one of the devels and lunged to keep its attention firmly on him. While it was distracted, Griel rammed the point of his hook deep into its spine and twisted. Black blood sprayed in a thick arc across the inside of the gondola, befouling the air with a potent chemical stench.

The second creature slashed a hole through the ceiling and leapt outside. The twins snatched at its heels too late, and clambered after it, wary of the blades that instantly snapped at their emerging head. The creature snarled at them, prompting memories of crossing of Bardo to the Underworld. Then, a creature identical to the one he was following had taken Seth by surprise and cut off his hand. The hand had grown back almost instantly, restored by the persistent impression of himself that was more important in the Second Realm than actual flesh and blood--but that hadn't lessened the shock and pain he had experienced.

The memory gave him an idea. As the blades snapped at them again, he raised his right arm and thrust it deliberately between them.

The blades bounced off his skin with a shower of sparks, repelled by the Homunculus's rock-solid maintenance of his sense of self. The devel shrieked in frustration. He twisted his arm around and freed it, and lashed out with a clenched fist for the creature's face.

It recoiled with a hiss. Together, Seth and his brother slithered out of the gondola, mindful of their footing on the ice-rimed wooden exterior. Three metres above them, the giant bladder strained and rocked, held down by dozens of thin, charm-strengthened cables. Strange geometric shapes raced across its balloon's light-brown skin.

The devel raised its scissor-handed arms and faced the twins. Wind snatched at them as they planted their four feet wide and held their four arms high.

"Who sent you?" Seth shouted. "Culsu? Yod?"

Grey eyes blinked at them. They didn't doubt that it could understand them. They had seen enough of the new world to know that Hekau worked just as well as it had in the Second Realm: anyone who wanted to be understood could be understood, regardless what language they were actually speaking.

For a second they thought the devel might reply. It hesitated, anyway, tilting its head to one side as though wondering who or what they were.

Then it reached out with both arms and began snipping cables.

"No!" The twins jumped forward, knocking the creature flat on its back. It didn't retaliate. In its brief moment of consideration it seemed to have decided to care less about its own life than bringing down the gondola. Even as it sprawled across the slippery roof, its scissor-hands snapped at every cable and wire within reach. Each sharp twang sent a nail of fear through the twins. How many cables could snap before the whole contrivance unravelled, sending the gondola tumbling down to the unforgiving rock and snow below?

The balloon shuddered. Its angle of flight steepened upwards. The twins threw themselves bodily at the devel, knowing they had to deal with the threat quickly now. Griel was taking his charges away from any further attacks but inadvertently increasing their danger in the process.

The roaring of propellers grew louder as the twins wrestled with their assailant, tumbling from side to side through the forest of cables. With a snarl, the creature slipped free and lunged for a dense knot near the rear of the balloon. The twins caught it in a flying tackle, sending it skidding across the slippery gondola. The points of its scissors struck off splinters of ice as it sought to find a grip. The attempt failed. Emitting a high-pitched cry, it slipped over the side and was sucked into the balloon's rear-port engine.

Propeller blade and scissor-creature met with a powerful explosion. The twins ducked their heads. Pieces of both whizzed past them, ricocheting off the gondola and arcing into open air.

When the echoes of the explosion faded, they raised their head to inspect the damage. All that remained of the propeller and its chimerical engine was a smoking black stump. A high-pitched whistling, growing louder by the second, came from several jagged tears in the balloon.

"Crap." Seth drove them back to the hole in the gondola. If Griel didn't already know about the damage, he would need to immediately. The balloon shook and rolled, already destabilised by the severed cables. How long it would remain airworthy was beyond his knowledge.

"I know, I know. I'm doing everything I can," said the Panic soldier as they dropped into the chaotic interior. The pilot console was emitting a persistent chiming sound; needles dipped and shuddered on every gauge.

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Just hold tight. I'm going to try to bring us down safely." Griel tugged at levers and pushed buttons. The balloon swayed giddyingly. "With luck, we'll make it."

Seth filtered out the sound of people shouting in order to concentrate on what lay through the shattered windows ahead: the crater lake and its dark ruins.

"I'd be happy to land in one piece," said Marmion, gripping a black-stained wooden pole for balance.

"Give me space and I'll do what I can." Griel waved them back, and Chu pressed forward from where she had been standing with Skender to join him. The twins noted her shaking hands and ashen skin. The cold air rushing through the gondola was taking its toll on those less hardy than the Homunculus.

"If there's anything we can do," Hadrian started to say again.

"There is," said Marmion, pulling them towards the rear of the shaking gondola. "You can tell me what those things were, just in case there are more waiting for us when we land."

The balloon shook and canted downwards. The twins did their best to ignore it. "It's a devel," Seth said. "They lived in the Underworld before the realms were jammed together. These particular devels were ruled by a minor dei called Culsu."

"A dei?" The warden's expression was simultaneously worried and puzzled. "Is that something like a god?"

"Someone probably worshipped them at some point. I don't know. Their job when I knew them was to cut up the souls of dead people as they tried to get to the Second Realm. The remains would be given to Yod to eat."

"So they ultimately worked for Yod."

"Yes." Seth watched black-spattered Lidia Delfine focussing an eyeglass on the lake's dark shoreline. It was growing visibly closer. "I guess they still do."

"Do you think there could be more of them?"

"I'd be amazed if there weren't."

Griel had taken a measure of control over the balloon. With a discernible effort, it was turning towards the nearest village. Seth swallowed his misgivings. There might still be people around, huddling for shelter from the cold and the devels. They might need help as badly as the expedition, when it landed among them.

"Take your seats," called Griel from the front of the gondola. "We're going down."

"And by that," said Chu, "he means 'hang on tight before we crash.'"

The balloon lurched and tilted so steeply that even the Homunculus's four legs had trouble keeping purchase. Seth was dismayed to see how quickly they had fallen in such a short time. He and Hadrian helped the others to safety, then took a position of their own towards the rear. Through the cracked window beside them, he could see the black scar left by the destroyed engine and the slopes of the crater rising up to meet them. There was no sign of more devels--or worse.

If the towers are here, Hadrian began.

Then Yod might be too, Seth finished. We've known it would be around somewhere. Doesn't change anything.

It changes everything. It's not a computer game or a dream. It's right here, right now. Everything we went into the Void for is about to happen.

It's much too late for second thoughts.

I know. I'm not having them. I'm just--

Terrified. Yes, me too.

They clung tight to the seat as the icy earth came up at them and, with a deafening crunch, the gondola bucked beneath them.

"The Trail"

"If love conquers all, love itself must be conquered."

The Book of Towers, Exegesis 4:19

On the fifth day Sal, Kail and Highson argued, as they had every other day. This time the debate was over whether to mark the coming of night by camping halfway up a cliff face or to continue to the top in the darkness, there to wait for dawn to pick up the trail of the man'kin. Sal wanted to push on, hoping to keep travelling without pause. Kail was more pragmatic, pointing out that the chances of losing the trail entirely were high. Highson stayed out of the discussion for the most part, except when brought into it by Kail or Sal. He didn't come out and say it, but Sal knew why that was, and that angered him more than Kail's stubborn refusal to change his mind.

"So you're tired," Sal told Highson. "Big deal. We all are. Do you want special treatment? Do you want to stay behind?"

"I'm not asking for anything, Sal."

"But you're not agreeing with me. You don't want to go any further."

"I can see where Habryn's coming from. And you too, for the record. I just don't want to take sides."

"Do you wish we'd stayed at the village?"

His father sighed, his broad features shadowed by the furred hood keeping the cold off his scalp. "I don't want to argue, Sal. I'll leave the decision up to you. I trust your instincts."

Sal retreated into himself to spare the men his frustration. The Goddess knew they'd endured plenty of it in recent days. Following the trail of the man'kin was simply taking too long. While the three of them limped their way across ever steeper, ever more rugged terrain, Shilly drew further and further out of reach. Deeply etched the trail might be--for creatures of solid stone could not tread lightly, even across a mountainside--but it wouldn't last forever. Every morning Sal woke afraid that this would be the day they lost the trail and had to turn back.

The heat of his anger kept the wind's chill at bay, but he could still feel it biting into his nose and face all the same. His fingers felt half frozen even in their gloves. Every muscle ached from climbing with a heavy pack on his back. In his mind's eye, all he saw was Shilly getting further and further ahead of him. Every minute they paused, they slipped more behind. The man'kin didn't stop to sleep; they climbed on into the night, every night.

"Damn them," he said, looking up at the frosty stars. "They're too fast, and we should've left sooner."

"Don't blame yourself," said Highson.

"I'm not. And I refuse to blame Shilly. That doesn't leave me with many options, though." Highson went to say something, but Sal cut him off. "I'd rather just keep moving. Catching up will solve all our problems."

"They have to stop eventually," Kail said.

The thought offered Sal no comfort. They had been over this many times before. If they knew where the man'kin were going, they could head them off before they arrived. But beyond up, the tracker could guess little in the unfamiliar terrain.

"So do we," Sal said, admitting that much, "but not now."

"All right," the tracker said, agreeing reluctantly. "But let's stop at the top of the face and rest. The more tired we are, the more likely we are to make mistakes, and mistakes will get us killed. That won't help Shilly at all."

Sal nodded, mentally satisfied but physically dreading the long climb ahead. He tightened the straps of his pack. "Let's get on with it, then."

Highson said nothing as they resumed their journey.

For a brief instant, as he pulled his own hood tighter around his ears, Sal heard the sound of mocking laughter on the wind, but it was gone before he could ask the others if they heard it too.

#

The half-full moon cast a cold, silver light over the face of the mountain. The route they followed was less a path than a series of goat tracks occasionally used by humans too. Below, at the base of the cliff, huddled a tiny village where they had paused briefly to reprovision. Its lanterns were barely visible now, shuttered against sinister forces supposedly abroad on the mountains. Sal and his companions had been regarded as such at first, and never completely earned the villagers trust.

Kail said that the man'kin and their mysterious companions had climbed straight up the sheer cliff looming over the small settlement. While the locals had shivered in their beds, Shilly and the man'kin had casually scaled an edifice Sal could barely imagine climbing, let alone quickly enough to keep up. Life in the flat, coastal Strand had never prepared him for this. Highson fared little better. Only Kail, with his decades of outdoor experience, had any knowledge of climbing at all, and even he struggled. His Sky Warden training was next to useless in the mountains.

At the top of the path, when they finally reached it, there were no more arguments. Sal was glad to help Highson and Kail unfurl their low tent and crawl inside. Sleeping close together for warmth as the wind howled outside, they had no energy for disagreements. There was only well-earned rest, as dreamless and barren as the mountain face itself.

That wasn't true, Sal told himself as he drifted off. The mountain was no more barren than a desert. Life struggled, but hadn't yet given up. Just that day, he had found a spray of bright blue flowers growing from a niche between two giant slabs of black rock. Tiny red ants crawled up and down the flower stems. A fragile spider web connected the two slabs further up. Even in such extreme conditions, nature found a way.

He would find a way too. He wouldn't give up. The man'kin did have to stop eventually, and Shilly with them. She couldn't climb a metre with her bad leg the way it was. And when he caught up with her...

That was where his thoughts always froze. What happened then? Rescue her? Berate her? Argue with her over how the world will end?

Sal thrust all thought of Tom and prophecies from his mind. He could worry about that later. For now, he needed only to rest. That he could accomplish easily enough. All he had to do was close his eyes...

He woke at dawn. The air inside the tent was thick with the smell of the three unwashed men it sheltered. He could tell from the rhythm of Kail's breathing that the tracker was awake, but he too hadn't gotten up. In wordless agreement, they waited until Highson stirred before making any move to rise. Kail may have been the oldest by at least two decades but he wasn't remotely the weakest. Sal's father was still recovering from his close encounter with death while chasing the Homunculus across the Strand's parched hinterland.

After breaking their fast and stowing their gear, Kail scouted the top of the cliff in search of the man'kin trail. The hat he wore in preference to a hood gave him a dark halo and left his face in shadow. Less than a minute passed before he called Sal and Highson over.

"Well, we didn't lose them," he said, pointing out the crushed pebbles and heavy scrapes indicating the passage of their quarry. "That's something to be thankful for."

Sal agreed, telling himself not to think about the time that had passed while the slept. Kail was right: to push himself too hard would be to commit suicide. One slip was all it would take.

The way ahead looked easier. That was something else to be thankful for. A winding ridge led up to the meeting point of two broad expanses. There the ridge became a valley that snaked higher up into the massive mountain range. The man'kin tracks clearly went that way, stretching to the limit of Sal's sight. The sun was still hidden behind the mass of stone to the east; more would become apparent towards noon, when the day was at its brightest. They would reach the alley by then, if Sal's new knowledge of mountain treks could be trusted. Should any surprises lie in wait for them there, that would time out well.

"Let's get moving," he said, not seeing any point in delaying. If the way ahead was easier for them, it would have been easier for the man'kin too.

Highson tipped the dregs of his tea onto the grey stone. Thick stubble painted his dark face with black and grey. "What day is this?"

"Day six." Kail shrugged into his pack and flexed his long limbs. His dark eyes perfectly matched the stony vista around them.

"My calluses are getting calluses." Sal's father stowed his cup in his pack and lifted it onto his shoulders. "Okay. I'm ready."

Sal brought up the rear, watching his footing on the ridge as closely as he would have on a cliff. The slopes to either side were steep; a tumble would be protracted but just as fatal as if he had fallen unimpeded. The safety rope connecting him to Highson and Kail would mean little if he dragged them both after him.

The steady crunching of their footsteps on cold stones was the only sound they made that morning.

#

At noon, when they reached the entrance to the valley, they stopped briefly to reconsider their options. A chill wind blew from far above down the V-shaped channel of stone, directly into their faces. Yet another thing that wouldn't have bothered the man'kin, Sal thought. The skin of his cheeks was peeling; his eyes felt like pickled onions. The scarf wrapped around his face barely kept the worst of it at bay.

Looking up the valley to where the pallid sun was peering around the mountains, a trick of perspective made him feel profoundly dizzy, as though the world was turning upside down. He staggered back a step, into Kail, and looked hastily at the ground.

"You're feeling it too, huh?" The tracker's chapped lips formed the words without any sign of embarrassment. "Mountain fever, my teacher used to call it. Never thought I'd experience it myself."

Highson was panting heavily. "Can't seem to catch my breath."

"It's going to get worse," Kail declared. "We need to watch out for each other. At the slightest sign of real disability, we stop to rest."

"Is there anything else we can do?" asked Sal, thinking of the man'kin's lead.

"Yes. Give up and turn back."

"No."

"I knew you were going to say that." Kail took a swig from his water bottle. "You do need to be aware, however, that it remains an option."

"Not for me. You can go back if you want to, but I'm going on."

"You can't do this on your own," said Highson from beneath his hood.

"I will if I have to."

"That would be stupid. You'll kill yourself."

Anger flared in Sal like kindling bursting into flame. "Don't you tell me what's stupid or not. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. I'd be back home in Fundelry with Shilly, safe and warm. There'd be no Homunculus, no man'kin, no fucking mountains to climb. Why couldn't you have stayed in the Haunted City like you were supposed to?"

"You know why, Sal."

"Sure. My mother. You should have given up on her like you did before."

Highson stared up at him, unblinking. "I tried to save her for you."

"No. You wanted her back. Don't lie about that. You have no idea what I wanted. You tried to bring her back for you."

"For both of us, then. Do you blame me for trying?"

Sal threw his hands up in exasperation, at himself and at Highson. What was the point in going over this? His mother was long-dead. Only Highson, with his bold and stupid plan of resurrecting her from the Void Beneath, had thought otherwise. If he hadn't built the Homunculus to act as her new body, the twins would have had nowhere to go. And if the twins hadn't left the Void Beneath...

"We're back here again," said Kail, watching them both with hands on hips. "What is it with you two and blame? In the long-run, it doesn't make any difference."

"It makes all the difference," said Sal.

"No, it doesn't. If you get to my age, you'll realise. And you'll never get to my age if you go charging up this mountain on your own. Highson's right on that score. I think you know it."

Sal looked down at his feet. The emotions boiling in him were so hard to control sometimes, but he rarely exploded so violently. Mountain fever clearly didn't improve his temper.

"Do you really think we should go back?" he asked Kail.

"I don't, Sal. I never said I did." The tracker's long face was even more weathered than usual. In just five days, the mountainous trek had added new lines around his mouth and eyes. He too was recovering from an injury, and that showed sometimes in a certain stiffness when he moved. "I want to see where the man'kin are heading as badly as you."

"Good." Sal felt bad, then, for getting angry. Highson and Kail were on his side. They weren't his enemies.

Something obscured the sun for a split-second. He looked up, expecting to see clouds overhead. But the sky was clear of any but the faintest wisps, as it had been since they'd emerged from the cloud line the previous day. Perfectly clear, in fact.

Now my eyes are going, he told himself.

"Let's rest," he said, tugging the pack from his shoulders with a sigh and stretching out flat on the ground. Even through numerous layers of clothing, the stone was cold against his back and backside, but it helped clear his head. Six days of walking and climbing were just the beginning. He had to assume that or else another six might drive him mad, for it could well take him that long to catch up with Shilly. But the chance remained that the man'kin's destination was just at the end of this valley, or perhaps the next one. He might stumble across her tomorrow or the day after. That hope warred with despair, leaving him feeling very much battered between them.

Somehow he nodded off, and woke to Kail's hand shaking his shoulder. Less than half an hour had passed but his muscles seemed to have completely seized. Hobbling like an old man, he set off after the others under sunlight so weak he could barely feel its warmth on his cheeks.

#

The beast surprised them shortly after nightfall. At the summit of the valley, the path had soon devolved into a series of switchbacks and rockfalls, the latter probably triggered by the man'kin as they had passed through. Negotiating them consumed a large proportion of the fading light and left Sal and his companions even more exhausted than they had been the previous night. The Change was strong in them, but there were limits. The wardens in particular had little dominion over stone, leaving Sal to do any heavy lifting required.

By mirrorlight there was only so much progress to be made. Even Sal could see that. Disturb the wrong rockpile the wrong way and the whole mountainside could come down on top of them.

Wiping his dusty gloves on his outermost pants and wishing not for the first time for a hot bath, Sal took the tent roll from Kail and prepared to unfold it.

A rattle of stones from further uphill prompted him to look up. A pair of wide eyes gleamed back at him. Seen, the creature abandoned stealth and bounded downslope towards them. Barely had Sal uttered a warning cry when it lifted off all fours and leapt right for him.

Reflected light flared from sharp claws and teeth. The animal landed bodily on Sal, knocking him clear off his feet and the wind from his lungs. Hot fluid gushed over him. His mouth filled with a salty copperiness that instantly made him gag. For too long he flailed helplessly at the beast before remembering the Change. He was weak after the day's exertions, but strong enough. With a flash of burning fur and blood, the beast flew away from him and into solid stone. The smack of its flesh sickened him as much as the taste of its blood.

Hands clutched at him. "Sal, are you all right?" Highson pulled him to his feet.

Sal pushed the hands away. "I--I think so. Goddess!" He spat. By the light of a brightly shining mirror, he wiped at his face and chest. Blood as black as the sky above had soaked through layers of wool almost as far as his skin. "What happened? What is that thing?"

The body lay limp on its side five metres away. "It's a Shiva bear," said Kail, crossing to inspect it. "A hungry one, by the look of it. They normally hunt only on moonless nights. This one must've been desperate."

Just an animal, then. That was something. Sal had feared that they'd encountered more wraiths or worse. But this creature was little larger than a big dog, with shaggy reddish fur and a broad snout. Nothing more sophisticated than a bow and arrow could have killed it.

Highson still fussed at him, as though unwilling to accept his word that he was okay. "It came out of nowhere. Habryn threw something. A knife, I think."

They both turned to look at the tracker. He had bent over the corpse and pulled a slender, steel blade from its throat. Sal swallowed, amazed by the man's speed and accuracy. "You know these things?" he asked.

"By reputation." The tracker ambled back, his eyes avoiding the light, taking in the night all around them instead. "They travel in pairs."

"We'd better be more careful then," said Highson. "If that thing had got its mouth around Sal's throat..."

Sal brushed away his father's concern, irritated as much by it as he was at his own incompetence in the face of danger. He should have reacted as quickly and capably as Kail. He might need to in order to survive the journey.

"Well, it didn't," he said, startled by the brusqueness of his tone, "so let's not make a big deal of this. We're tired. We were taken by surprise." Maybe, he thought, I have been pushing us too hard. "We won't make that mistake again."

"And look on the upside," said Kail, his teeth gleaming. "We've gained some fresh meat. I think there'll be enough on its bones to feed the three of us for a day or two. It won't take me long to butcher it."

Sal swallowed automatic revulsion, telling himself that bear meat was bound to taste better than its blood. And now the excitement was over, bruises were making themselves felt where the bear had hit him and he had fallen on his arse. "We could light a fire," he said. "Have a proper meal, for a change."

"We could." Kail nodded. "You two keep watch, just in case the mate is lurking around somewhere. The fire might not keep it away for long, if it's as hungry as this one was."

They set to it immediately. Highson kept his pocket mirror radiating at full strength while Kail went about his grisly job. Once their packs were placed at the centre of their impromptu campsite, Sal began looking for something to burn. There wasn't much, but it did exist. The bulk of the heat might come from suitable stones he gathered as well, but there would be real flames on top of it, and real smoke. The meat would cook properly, and they would all feel better for it.

The small blaze was crackling happily by the time Kail returned with the first cuts from the dismembered beast. The smell of it cooking sent saliva rushing through Sal's mouth, and he had to force himself to keep looking away from it and at the darkness around them instead. He saw and heard nothing untoward. Perhaps, he thought, the fire and the scent of blood had frightened the mate off. Nevertheless he agreed with Kail that watches should be posted through that night, just in case it returned and found the three of them sound asleep.

He ate until he could physically eat no more then settled back in his bedroll with the soothing sound of flames in his ears. He felt warmer, even if the wind was cold and his cheeks and toes ached. Insulating charms stitched into collars and blankets helped. When Kail volunteered to take the first watch, he was happy to accept the offer. His body remained tender from the attack of the bear, and a headache was building in his temples. He drifted off into blackness with the thought that bear meat hadn't been half as bad as he had expected. Nothing like lamb or rabbit, but a vast improvement on the tough jerky they had picked up in the town below...

Highson shook him awake after midnight. The night was dark and clear. A thin wind moaned eerily through the switchbacks, setting Sal's teeth on edge. That and a slight queasiness brought on by too much strange meat made staying awake easy. Even when his two hours were up, he delayed a little longer to give Kail extra time to sleep. The tracker slept with a pinched, pained expression on his face, as though worrying in his dreams. Highson's face was barely visible at all, with little more than his nose showing from inside the bedroll, swaddled in protective fabric.

When Sal finally returned to bed, barely an hour remained before dawn. He fell instantly and deeply asleep, and woke only when a light rain misted over his face. He blinked, startled, and sat bolt upright in his bedroll.

The sun was up, but the camp was silent. Highson lay beside him, snoring peacefully. Kail had slumped over where he sat by the fire, which smoked thinly under the half-hearted shower. Between them, the contents of their packs lay spread out across the stony ground. Something had thoroughly rummaged through them, leaving clothes, supplies and equipment in disarray.

Sal's cry of alarm woke Kail with a start.

"What?" The tracker took in the ruin of their camp with one sweeping glance. He looked equal parts haggard and appalled. "How did this happen?"

Sal left that question unanswered. He was already sorting through the scattered items, dividing them into three piles in an attempt to see what was missing. It seemed obvious that Kail had nodded off during his watch, leaving the camp exposed, but he didn't want to openly accuse the tracker of anything, especially after the previous day's discussion about blame.

"Was it the bear?" asked Highson, emerging, blinking sleepily, from his bedroll.

"No." Kail had stood on cracking limbs and was staring in puzzlement at the ground around the camp. "Bears don't use charms. Not in my experience, anyway."

Sal followed the direction of Kail's gaze and saw too the black circle enclosing the camp site. Arcane symbols surrounded the circle, drawn, Sal realised, just outside the warm glow cast by the fire. "Is that charcoal?"

"Yes." Kail looked angry, now.

"I recognise these signs," said Highson. "Whoever drew them wanted to keep us quiet while they took what they wanted. What's missing, Sal? Give us the bad news."

That was the odd thing. "Nothing," he said, checking through their belongings one last time to make sure. "It seems to be all here. Even the bear meat. Nothing's been taken."

"That doesn't make sense." Highson squatted next to him to double-check.

"I agree, but there it is." Sal ran a hand through his long hair. "It could be worse. We could have been murdered in our sleep." Despite the evidence of the charm, part of him was still annoyed at Kail for letting this happen. If Upuaut had been behind this particular gambit, or something even nastier... "What about tracks?" he asked Kail. The tracker had stepped outside the circle to inspect the stone surrounding it. "Can you tell who or what did this?"

The tracker shook his head. "There are some marks over here--" He pointed back the way they had come, where a shelf of rock overhung the way downhill. "But I can't tell what made them. It was big, whatever it was."

"A man'kin?"

Kail shrugged.

"Do you think o