Chapter 2

In the distance the tall broken spires of Satre's mansion rose above the
city of Carcosa. The tallest one had been broken in half. Three hundred
feet of soaring stonework had fallen to lance the Tower of Endless
Summer through the side. The spike had gone through entirely through the
soft yellow shorter edifice, and had stopped roughly halfway. It hung at
an angle, dangling in the sky, for the Tower of Endless Summer had never
fallen. A strange broken cross remained, a cross with the beam cocked
and at a horrific tilt, ever ready to slip through entirely and crash to
the streets below. We were going into the city to place that sword of
Damocles above our heads.

Casaroc was another problem. He was sitting on the fore deck keeping
lookout as we slipt below the cloud line. I wanted to badger him about
his name, poke and prod and needle him until he relented and told me
everything he knew just to make me stop, but then I would become the
person I hated and do what I respected Seth for abstaining from. My
curiosity, apathetic towards my opinions of what shouldn't be done, was
whipping me in a frenzy, and I scowled and grumbled as I bit back on my
questions.

"Can we talk?" James whispered to me. He was hunched over my head in the
rigging.

"About what?" I replied.

"No, once we get down there."

"Oh. Yes. I wouldn't make too much noise, but I don't think that will be
an issue."

"Why?"

"Carcosa is called the Silent City for a reason. There's something about
the place that keeps you from speaking too much."

James nodded. He climbed around the sails, rechecking his work with
nervous energy. I kept my watch on the city below and continued our
spiral down.

Carcosa itself was atop a pedestal of stone on the shoulder of a great
mountain called Time. It was divided into four quarters by wide
concourses filled with rushing water from the great house in the center.
Duncton's Manse, the House Royal, and Satre's mansion sat at the center
of three of the quarters, broken and empty but still the tangible power
centers what had been a vast metropolis. My quarter was a gaping hole,
an empty slice of a pie miles wide. The cut was perfect and smooth,
slicing through layers of granite stone down to the peak of Time itself.
Somewhere in the mists below stood shattered remains of my house, my
gardens, and the parks where I walked in the twilight. The rest of the
city was as dead as they, and this pleased me.

From a distance the waterfall was be the first thing anyone noticed. Its
height has never been determined for it falls from the endless clouds
above on one endless stream of silver and blue. Into the very center of
the city it pours where waits the submerged Keep of Baron and the great
lake Hali. The keep is a tall building of dark stone and steep roofs
that stands in isolation at the very center of the silver river itself.
A million gallons of water pour over its roofs, drench its bare yards,
and run off the bridge every day. Occasionally in high winds the course
of that deluge will move enough that firm outlines can be seen of the
great walls and magnificent sculpture, unbroken and undisturbed after
thousands of years. Around the fortress was the lake Hali, the keep's
moat, that held the turbulent waters when they finished their fall and
fed the four great concourses that divided the city. Now almost all
flowed down the gaping hole in the segment of the city that was not. The
concourses were dry.

"There, James. We aim for that courtyard by the Satre's Mansion.
Casaroc, anything?"

"No. No movement at all."

"That would be good if it meant they weren't here."

"What might it mean?" James whispered. The influence of the city was
coming over him.

"That we cannot see them," I replied. It was an act of will, like
leaping from a height, to speak at a normal volume.

We descended silently, furling the sails until with a soft lurch the
hull bounced of the bare dirt of the lawn. In moments the masts were
bare, and the three of us slipt over the edge.

"Not seeing any flowers," James informed me. We crouched against the
side of the hull and looked around while we moored the ship with ropes
easily cut if necessary.

"They're down by the rivers. Don't you remember seeing them?"

"No."

"I did." Surprised at this help from an unexpected quarter, I turned to
face Casaroc. "There were at least two large patches of them. Small
flowers and dark foliage that matches the ground?" he looked at me, and
if he hadn't been so confident I would have thought he was checking with
me.

"Exactly," I agreed.

"Good. Then, yes. I saw two patches. Maybe more."

"Excellent. Then why don't the two of you run over and gather a few?"

"You're not coming?" James seemed surprised. Casaroc eyed me
suspiciously.

"No. There's no way I would be able to keep up with you if you needed
speed, and Casaroc can find them just as well as I."

"At first I was suspicious when you were coming. Now I'm more nervous
when you aren't."

"Yes, what exactly are you up to?" Casaroc asked.

"Tell me about your name?" I replied sweetly.

Casaroc scowled.

"Exactly. Now, why don't the two of you run down to the river and get
what you came here for."

"Anything we should be worried about?"

"Quite a bit," I replied truthfully. "But not much you can do about any
of it. Don't worry about the flowers eating you or booby traps. Be
careful, but don't be paranoid."

"What about the buildings?" Casaroc asked.

"I wouldn't go in any."

"All right then, let's go." James leaned his big frame away from the
ship and glanced around quickly. Now that he had something to do he was
eager to be off. I could see he had high expectations for the lilies.

"See you here." He wouldn't be disappointed.

Casaroc just nodded, and the two of them took off. They moved at a fast
trot, keeping careful watch around them. James was perhaps the fastest
sprinter I've ever known, and I was amazed to see him paced by his
heavily swaddled companion.

Actually, once I thought about it, I was surprised Casaroc left the ship
at all. He had no reason to go out, and there wasn't anything easily
found in the city of value. I shrugged. I wanted answers out of him.

Once they were gone I went back aboard the ship and stole into my cabin.
The stones I took with me in a hidden pocket. I also took a mirror. I
had a camera, but it wasn't working and I left it. If the lilies weren't
enough proof I'd been here, photos wouldn't be. I considered taking a
sword or gun, but doubted either would make a difference.

Satre's Mansion, where I'd been intending to go since the beginning, was
a large airy building. The walls and doors, those that still stood, were
thick and the hallways were wide. Satre had been fond of arches then. I
climbed over a few piles of rubble and started into the depths of the
residence. There were no insects, vermin, or weeds here. Only dirt
clogged the stairways. I found a wide dining hall that lead to a shadowy
courtyard and stopped in the entryway. The double suns had come almost
together in the sky and descended to the wide lake between the three
sisters. Soon it would be twilight. That was fitting.

When I stepped into the dark my thoughts became clouded. The corridors
were hazy, indistinct and treacherously twisted in a most deliberate
manner. A stairway precipitous to being a ladder lead me under the great
courtyard. I moved down it, clinging to the bare walls as I went while
the erratic path of the stairs seemed to veer away from them. There were
no guardrails.

This was so unlike Satre I was confused. Satre was power incarnate. He
never had a need for complexity or bizarre schemes for he could simply
command what he wanted. Yet under his estates I found this labyrinth. I
moved through vast hallways with vaulted ceilings and sweeping columns
that still seemed oppressively close.

When I went even deeper I found a corridor that was ever so slightly not
pitch black. I still could not see my hand in front of my face, but I
could tell that there was a hand there with my eyes and the floating
spots on the back of my eyelids were gone. I crept along, curious at
this departure from the accepted norm of underground exploration.

At the end of the corridor I found a shattered doorway. Still careful
and silent in the darkness, I let my fingers slight ever so gently
before the wood, touching it here and there in minute fingertip kisses
that never let my skin graze the wood and possibly make a sound. I
wished Daren was here. He would be more dangerous in the dark than
anything that might be hunting me. Instead I found that most of the
panels of the door were gone and one particular opening extended from
the floor to waist height without beam or frame to allow the possibility
of clatter when I went through. I eased my head through.

On the other side was a circus of light and noise. Ten thousand
candelabra burned brilliantly. A feast that extended the length of the
grand hall filled groaning tables. Strings and winds played dueling
melodies that intertwined throughout the room and soared with grace to
make the heart break.

I pulled my head back out. Almost pitch black and silent was the
corridor. I investigated the other side of the shattered door. The room
was still full of light and warmth.

I went in and stood. My utilitarian black body suit was gone, replaced
by a silk dress that I remembered from a time very long ago. I could
feel the fabric glide against my skin. There was little to do but walk
with dignity into the empty party and wait for my host to greet me. He
was not long.

"Birus," I smiled.

"Helen," he whispered. He moved like he was floating, perfectly graceful
and at ease in his traditional finery. It was similar to English fashion
of the late nineteenth century, an era I've always considered dignified
because it reminded me of home. "You are beautiful."

"Of course I am. This is how you remember me."

"Please, join me."

"For a while."

The music changed to an old dance, one where the couples never touched.
It was considered stodgy even when I was young, for what is the point of
dancing with someone you can never feel, but here it was appropriate.
Birus lead me through the steps and I followed, remembering the crowd
that had watched when we moved this way before and not surprised to see
them from the corners of my eyes. I could spend eternity here, I very
nearly spent all night, and I stopped before the number ended.

"I've come a very long way to speak to you, Birus."

"I'm flattered. But of course you took the royal way, moving in state
and comfort like your station deserves."

"Angel's Pond."

Birus' court graces cracked, and he looked at me askance. "Oh dear,
why?"

"Because there are few options now. Our old home is dead."

"Then the old ways?"

"Also gone."

"Even the roads?"

"Shoggoth have the roads now."

Birus turned away and went to the table, staggering like he was in pain.
In a way he was. "I'm sorry."

"After what I went through to clear those ways, they've been left to
those others?"

"There's no one left Birus. How long has it been since you had company?"

"Just last night," he replied, suddenly turning and grinning. I could
see he was shutting aside his pain.

"Would you like to help me, Birus? Do something that matters again?"

He turned his back on me and moved alone to the floor. There he stepped
and spun in a strange pattern that may have been a dance and may have
been combat. In him there was no distinction.

"Why do you come to me, devil woman? I am old, I've lost everything but
this and myself, and even that is gone. I am tired, weak."

"And dead."

"And after your sins and my pain you come to me and ask for help?"

"No, I don't. I've come to tell you that there is something you can do
that will help me. I'm not going to ask you to do it."

"Your very presence is a request."

"My very presence means you will do as I wish."

"Never."

"Oh, Birus. That's such a long time indeed, and even your wait has not
yet come close. I'm sure it wasn't hard in the beginning, when you have
visitors in your animate tomb. I must admit, I was quite infatuated with
you for a while. This is very well done. It's wonderful in its way.

"But its not real, Birus. And if you torment yourself by staying here,
forcing your tired shadow to hide in the barest darkness where you are
all but indistinct from death, you must be driven by such bitter things
as I can fully understand. And bitterness, Birus, bitterness is perhaps
my best friend. It spoils the taste of fruit on the platter, it makes
the violins flat, and takes the inspiration from your dance and makes
all your grace mere practice. Bitterness has kept you this long from
death, and it's poison you must eat to survive. Don't ever tell me
never, Birus. You haven't been there yet."

When he turned to face me I could see the hatred. This was not the
hatred of the living, but an absolute emotion of the dead who achieve
such things because no further experience can happen to their souls. He
hated me with no self to sacrifice for my destruction, no presence of
mine for him to attack, and nothing but hate for hate's sake to drive
him into the purest reaches of spite.

"You are a monster, devil woman."

"Many have called me that."

"What sins do you want me to commit now?"

"Actually, I want you to do something good. I want you to free someone
from prison who has paid his time. Together we are going to help
someone."

I think if I was trying to hurt him I could have found no greater way.
For him to swallow the toxins of his spite so that he could do my
bidding would be the most horrific pain his dead soul could suffer. For
him to do it to help another would rob him of all justice and quite
possibly the sense of self that had existed like his cancerous desire to
live in this grim place.

And he would do it as sure as I stood before him smiling. For he must
swallow the poison he needed to survive.

"God could not hate me as you do." He was pained. His voice was hurt and
spiteful.

"God never hated anyone. Only the devil can do that," I replied.

With the music still rolling through in the background Birus stared hard
at the great chandeliers, dazzling things of a thousand points of light.
His shoulders were tense and firm as he stood ramrod straight, not
recognizing my presence.

"What do you want?"

"I want to release Daren the Wolfshead from prison."

Birus stopped moving. He stopped breathing, and stood ramrod straight as
all around us great cracks ripped through the party and the light. The
music shrieked with discordant notes.

He twisted to face me and almost spat in my face, "Are you mad?"

"Quite possibly."

Horror and disgust filled him. I could see it in his eyes and the
shocked curl of his lips. He leaned away from me as he had not since I'd
murdered him.

"Woman, you are the devil! Begone from here. Speak to me no more. I'll
take my eternal rest and sleep the long dark silence of ignorance, no
more to walk in light even such as this than release that incarnate
monster from whence he is bound."

"You can do that," I acceded. "You can shut yourself away in the night.
You can never again know what happens in the world of the living. You
let your ears fill with sand to never hear again the words of lovers.
You can climb back into the coffin you fought your way out of those eons
ago. You can be dead again, and never see the wonder of Satre's high
palace in Wilno, look out the windows and see Duncton's new castle, the
walls, or the people and Mandrake among them, serving justice even as
Van distributes mercy. You can deny my bidding, escape your own
bitterness, and be dead." I leaned very close to him and dropped my tone
so he had to silence the illusion to hear me. Our gazes were locked
together, and I bent him towards me. "And if you had the strength to let
go you would have done that when you died. I'm calling your bullshit."

Birus, dead and buried these long years, stared at me as his soul tried
to make a choice. If he could, he would go back and all this trip was
for naught.

He sank down to squat in a pile on the floor. Now I stood above him
imperiously, stern and demanding. Shadows climbed through the cracks in
the walls and doors, creeping across the walls and over the ceiling.
Darkness, pure and nature swept over us as the room became as silent as
the tomb it was.

"What must I do?" he whispered.

"Come with me."

I twirled in the darkness and walked from the vast hall.

The others were returning to the ship as I did. We met by the gang
plank.

"Success?" I asked.

"Yup!" James replied happily. He presented a small bouquet of lilies,
the blossoms of which were larger than his fist. There were only a few
of the flowers, but their gentle color was undeniably beautiful. It
seeped out the petals and colored his hands. They were white and soft
purple, and as delicate as a newborn. "Think she'll like these?"

"Absolutely." I smiled.

He smiled back at me, and Casaroc scowled. That didn't bother me. It was
nice to be back in the twilight with living humans again.

"The other thing we need to do is a little digging. You want some dirt,
so if any seeds can be planted."

"Sounds reasonable," James agreed. He reclaimed the wine bottle he'd
emptied on the way here, filled it with water, and put the lilies
inside. I went below and returned with a couple shovels and a few large
sacks in a wheel barrow.

"Would you like to come or remain here?" I asked Casaroc.

"If I remain here you might never see me again," he replied.

"Yes, but I'm the only one who knows how to leave this place alive."

"I'll come."

"Splendid."

The three of us disembarked onto the hard cobblestones, and I lead the
way back to Satre's Mansion. Around one side of it was a small
churchyard, though the church was an unrecognizable pile of debris. A
very long time ago I' been here to attend a funeral. My presence was in
exceptionally bad taste at the time, but I remembered exactly where the
dearly departed had been interred in the soil. After it became apparent
that the deceased was not in fact departed the information had seemed
like it might be important some day.

"All right, gentleman. We'll dig here."

"Is this good soil?" James asked. He looked around, but there was
nothing to symbolize the true nature of the place.

"This is where Satre used to do his planting," I replied truthfully. To
avoid any discussion about where, I chose my spot and began digging.
"Now we want to get fairly deep. The surface soil is probably not
healthy."

James grunted unconcerned and started working beside me. Casaroc walked
a dozen paces to a low wall and sat, watching the still city while we
worked. He occasionally sent us a look to keep track of our progress but
said nothing.

The surface lived, or rather didn't, up to my predictions. The top three
feet was bone dry, more dust than dirt, and occasionally had fragments
of rusted metal or old leather. Neither of us commented on this. We kept
the hole wide because we worked together at the bottom of it. At four
feet of depth the soil became darker, slightly more moist. James
guessed, correctly, that the runoff from the great rivers of the city
kept the soil here firm. He carefully avoided the subject that other
than the lilies, there was nothing that lived within the soil. We began
filling the sacks, carefully double bagging the burlap with some
industrial strength plastic garbage bags I'd picked up a while ago.

At six feet my shovel struck wood like I'd expected.

James stopped what he was doing and stood up, slowly. He faced me with a
sinking expression, watched me as I began clearing the dirt aside and
did nothing until I had finished exposing the long, dark casket.

"Oh, hell no," he said.

"Are you going to help me with this."

"Oh, hell no," he said again, more emphatically this time.

"Didn't expect you too. Do you have enough soil?"

"This is graveyard dirt?" He looked at his bags both distrustfully and
disgusted.

"James, look around you. Everything here is dead. This whole city is a
graveyard."

"But, that-"

"I knew it!" Casaroc cried triumphantly. He was standing on the lip of
the pit, looking down on me. "I knew we were here for some twisted
reason; I knew it! Grave robbing."

"Is that what I think it is?" James asked, out of blind desperation for
the evidence of his eyes to be wrong.

"Yes," I replied.

"Oh, hell no," he said a third time.

"You're robbing a coffin."

"No," I answered seriously. "I'm taking the coffin with us. It's not
robbery."

"What the fuck ever," Casaroc retorted. "Whoever is inside there was put
here for a reason, and probably wanted to be here. Did he tell you to
move him? No."

"Actually, yes." I replied sweetly. "I asked permission."

"Asked who?"

"The man in the coffin."

Casaroc opened his mouth, shut it again, and I interrupted him before he
had a good retort.

"Listen to me, the both of you. This casket and its contents are going,
undisturbed, on my ship. They're coming, and they're coming as is.
There's nothing else to say. Now, as soon as this goes aboard, we're
leaving, so if you want to go, get to work."

Casaroc stared down at me, and I wondered if he was going to do
something stupid. James looked back and forth between the two of us,
suddenly releasing there was a contest of wills going on that he really
did not want to be in the midst of. I think he keyed into our imminent
departure and the importance of it.

"James, why don't you go make the ship ready. I'll help Helen get this
loaded."

"Right." James nodded.

The two of them traded places, and James disappeared. Without exchanging
more words than were absolutely necessary, Casaroc and I got ropes
around the coffin and levered it from the earth. It was intact, heavily
inlaid with dirt and grime and gold and silver beneath that. We
manhandled it onto the barrow and lashed it down. Still in silence, we
returned to the ship.

James had the ship prepared when we returned. The three of us got the
coffin aboard and carried it down to the cabin. I diplomatically ushered
them out. Just forward of my cabin was the stowage, only accessed by a
small portal kept locked day and night. I cleared some space and pushed
it in, leaving it in the dark.

"Good night, Birus. We'll talk again soon."

On deck we were ready. James and I exchanged a nod. There was a lurch
and a brief sensation of falling before we were free to catch the light
breezes of evening and creep towards the open sky. Casaroc returned his
watch, there to brood and consider thoughts he did not deign to share
with the rest of us. The ship was secretive as we picked up speed and
rounded the great destroyed mansion of Satre.

"We're going to circle the waterfall once, tacking on sail as we go. By
the time we clear the highest towers we should be running swiftly enough
to get far away from here without incident."

"Will the winds be tricky?"

"There's a constant vortex about the waterfall itself. It runs clockwise
and very fast the closer in we go. Our route should slingshot us about
the waterfall once, not too close but deep enough into the funnel to
throw us clear. Higher there are the trade winds we used to get here.
We'll be leaving a different way, which won't be as unpleasant our
arrival."

"Why didn't we take that way here?"

"It's a one way door."

"Helen, why are we bringing a coffin?"

"James, do you trust me?"

"No."

I blinked. I should have expected that. "Would you believe me anyway if
I told you that you don't want to know?"

"No. I believe you aren't going to tell me anyway and I shouldn't ask,
but I want you to realize I'm not going to keep playing this game much
longer."

"Why? You got what you wanted out of it, right?"

"The lilies?"

"Wasn't that what I promised? You also have the native soil of their
homeland to plant them in, an added bonus."

"Oh, you did do that. You did everything you promised and more. But I
know you'll sell me out in a heartbeat if necessary, and our deal never
included my safe return to Wilno."

"Our journey isn't safe to begin with. You remember the wyvern."

"I also remember the Lord of Stone Mountain. You deep fat fried him in a
heartbeat. You could have killed the wyvern just as easily. Don't
mistake my kindness for stupidity, ma'am." We were back to that, again.
This formality was a way of keeping his emotional distance. It was
unpleasant, but it would not get in the way of what I need James for.

"James, I would like to assure you of one thing. There are things here
in Carcosa very much beyond my ability to deep fat fry."

"Do you know what else Duncton said about you?"

"No. Please tell me."

"He told me to watch you like a hawk. He said you obey the letter of the
law like the djinn of old myths, but would ruin me by my own words just
as easily."

He was mad and getting madder, thinking about the coffin below and
working his temper up. We were coming close to the great waterfall, a
cataract miles high that carried the same volume of water per second as
the Nile only faster. I needed his mind on the job or everything would
go very badly for us.

"James, what difference does it make? He's dead. You got what you want
and you haven't had to pay anything for it except for some sailing work,
which you clearly enjoy."

"I don't like being deceived!"

"I never lied to you."

"No, you didn't. But you deceived me. You've mislead and manipulated me,
and treated me like a pawn."

"Very well, James. There is a waterfall directly ahead of us. If we sail
into it you, me, and Casaroc probably will die. Would you like to help
with the rigging?"

If looks could kill I'd be dead without the waterfall, but he swung the
boom and we drifted to the port. I looked away and stared down into the
city below.

Alone in the midst of a barren park, where no living thing grew in
tragic mockery of the beauty that had been there before, stood a figure
dressed in long yellow robes. He looked up at me, and had the deep hood
not cowled his face I would have swore he smiled. Fear took me, consumed
me, and I think my heart may have stopped. Mercifully I fell
unconscious.



"WAKE UP!" Shrieked James, shaking me like a rag doll and hurling the
words into my face. His face was a mask of purple and red, the veins
bulging on his forehead crossed his skull with marks and lines and his
eyes were wild and bloodshot. "WAKE UP!" He bellowed again, directly
into my face. The force of it threw my head back and I stared at him in
confusion. "WAKE UP!" again and I recoiled, looking wildly around.

The masts screamed and bent in the gale force winds, sucking us forward
and in. Before us, not fifty feet from the prow, the unimaginable
thunder of a million gallons of falling water roared like a great band
saw ready to consume the Galleon. Loose shreds of rope and the tatters
of one sail flapped in the winds, pulling us forwards into the bore of
the maelstrom.

"Port!" I cried.

"The boom snapped!"

"The tiller!?"

"Gone!"

"The Wind shall be Farmed by the Lord of the Galleon!"

I slammed energy into the spell like a fire hose, bulging at the seams
and cracking with noise almost audible over the roar before us. Even as
I did I clutched one metal laced line and felt the lightning burn over
my skin. It came rushing back on me a thousandfold, popping blood
vessels in my fingers and flinging my hair around in an electrical
storm. I snatched the bag of stones from my belt, letting the boil of
energy escape before it crushed me. My eyes glowed like fire and I saw
the crackle of power spark from my lips to star burst in the air before
me. Everything I saw flashed and moved erratically.

"The Obelisk of the Galleon shall be Mended!" I commanded the storm. The
dangling ends of the boom shrieked and fire leapt between them, burning
hands that seized each other in a terrible grip. The lines still
thrummed with force, vibrating and shrieking, but now it arced to the
rigging instead of me.

"Got it!" cried James. Into the air he went, flying as the wind seized
him, and managed to catch the mast somehow. Broken lines lashed the air
like whips, moving around and scoring his back and arms as he did his
work in the howling winds. I couldn't imagine it, could barely
comprehend what I was seeing as a mortal contended against this storm
and survived. The torrent was less than a ship length from us, but we
rolled hard and were sucked aside as the great crosswind caught us.
Water fell to the ship and boiled, exploding from the sails and me in
bursts of steam. We almost made it.

"She rolls!" cried Casaroc. "Damn her, she rolls!"

Even as he said so the ship did. We had come too close to the cataract
and the tremendous pull of the water caught a spar and slammed it down,
spinning the ship sideways. The mast entered the tip of the torrent
immediately and snapped. It shot from us like an anchor, bursting free
of the lines that held it to the ship, spinning us like a wound top on
its side. I grabbed something and held tight for dear life.

We tumbled, end over end as both sails thundered to match the cataract
and exploded from their moorings. Lines that flashed with terrible fire
burnt across the sky, drawing patterns that disappeared as they were
born. Our plummet straightened as the very spiral of our fall stabilized
us, the water thundering down shot us forward to the ground at
unimaginable speed. There was no bracing for impact, nor would that have
mattered. There was only time for magic and power, the old forces of the
earth.

I believe I remained conscious through the crash. I might have been
hallucinating for I thought Casaroc burned like a falling star, his body
outlined in flames within the deluge as we impacted the surface of the
lake of Hali. As we crashed he opened his eyes wide and shrieked like a
madman, a terrible sound that matched his sudden mania. Then we hit, the
water exploded, and nothing made sense.

There was a frantic struggle to get away from the fall, get far enough
away that I could escape the undertow and swim up for air. Were I not
filled with power it would have crushed me, snapped my bones, and
destroyed me as all Carcosa was destroyed and dead. Instead I saw spots
on my eyes and heard bells, and someone seized me by the head and
yanked.

We broached gasping, spitting water and sucking sweet air. Eddies sucked
and pulled and yanked us around, but Casaroc's grip on me was iron. When
I was too disoriented to know which way to swim I went limp in the
froth, not hindering if I could not help. My hand still clamped a death
grip on the stones of power he had given me, full to bursting with the
energy of the storm above, and I poured that into his blood through the
cuts that webbed his arms. We broke free, left the riptides, and he
dragged me to shore.

"Stay here," he ordered.

Without waiting for a response he climbed up the bank and darted off,
running like the wind and staring up into the sky. I gasped and panted
and coughed up water, choking and gurgling, while he flashed down a
road, bounded from the wall of a tumbled house, and leapt. He caught
James in mid-fall and the two slammed through a stone wall, sending
shards of rock in all directions. The house collapsed on them, hiding
the outcome in dust and rubble.

"No," I whispered, suddenly and inexplicably terrified that neither one
of them would make it. I was worried as I'd not been worried for another
ever that I could remember, and I stared at the site of their unarguable
demise in horror. "This can't be it."

It wasn't. The dust cleared and Casaroc stood above a crumpled figure,
holding a stone wall two feet thick with one hand. All around him was
destruction. He cast it aside, tossed James over his shoulder, and
strode back towards me with death in his eyes.

"More of your doing, witch woman?"

"Is he-"

"No, he's breathing."

"Oh, thank you."

"I said is this more of your doing, woman?"

"The storm?"

"No. This feeling. I ran like lightning, broke steel and stone, and cast
aside rubble without a thought. I feel godlike."

I thought back, remembered dumping the power of the wind into him, and
startled.

"Yes," I replied.

"Then good!" he pronounced like a sentence. "You've done something right
and good."

I stared at him confused. It was like he was condemning me, but the
words didn't follow the tone.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you know that to use magic to temp the royal house with is death?"

I stared at him, looked back at what we'd just survived, and burst out
laughing. He held his straight face for a second, then joined me.

"If I thought you did that intentionally, I would have let you die, you
know," he told me when we stopped being hysterical.

"What convinced you?"

"Pure selfishness and logic. It made absolutely no damn sense at all for
you to be at fault for this. You nearly died, you revealed way more
secrets than you wanted to, and you've lost everything you came here to
get."

"Eh?"

"Where's the ship?" he pointed out smugly.

I realized what he was getting at. "Shit," I replied.

When I looked around for wreckage or flotsam there was none to be found.
Casaroc tapped my shoulder amused and pointed into the turbulent fall.
Barely visible inside was the shape of a hull.

James grumbled something, rolled over, and began to snore. We put aside
our conversation to tend to him. There was a long purple mark across his
forehead and welts on his arms were swelling. He was also bleeding from
pretty much everywhere. The bleeding was not deep though, mostly just
whiplash marks and abrasions, so we washed them and let them scab over
naturally. Surprisingly, three of the lilies were still in his pockets.

Casaroc seemed to be in better shape. He was already bandaged from head
to toe, but that was more of a fashion statement. He told me when I
tried to check him that all his injuries had healed in that brief moment
of omnipotence. He tossed a rock at the water behind us curiously, but
it splashed in a most normal fashion.

Then I remembered the horror. "Casaroc, you did well."

"Thank you."

"This is what needs to happen next. We need to leave this place. We
absolutely must get away from here now. Can you carry James?"

"For a while."

"Good. Let me know when you need a rest. Are you ready?"

Casaroc shrugged. He told hold of James by one arm and pulled him to a
kneeling position. With a clean heave and jerk James went up on his
shoulders.

"Let's go." He shrugged a few times to get the weight right.

We were on a wide concourse that ringed the lake of Hali, the wide
receptacle of the waterfall known as the ------. I guaged Casaroc's
stride and took off as fast as he could walk easily. In long distant
times we had parades here. All I could remember was the laughter, loud
and unabashed. Around we went until the Morning Road lay before us,
straight and wide Satre's quarter and Duncton's. The road was open and
inviting.

"Breath a moment." I lead him to the base of a broken monument and
helped him set his burden down behind it. I peaked around and stared a
long time up the way. Finally I closed my eyes as listened. "Casaroc, do
you know the sensation when silence is so complete you hear ringing?"

"Yes."

"Tell me if you hear any ringing."

Neither of us spoke for a while. When Casaroc did, doubt had crept into
his voice. "Yes, I hear ringing."

I turned to face him like a hungry shark. "But its not the ringing you
were expecting?"

"No. It sounds like," he paused, nervous about how to continue. "Bells."

"Thank you. Come along, we're taking the harder way. Can you carry him a
while longer?"

"Easily."

"Good."

We set off again. Hali was only slightly more than a mile across, a long
level walk with a slight coating of dust to silence our steps and
cushion our feet. It also held our footprints for anyone who might come
behind and look. We rounded Duncton's quarter without incident and soon
came to the end of that. We had arrived at my old home.

It was a vast, gaping hole where miles and miles of the mountain top had
been sheared off. The rock was cut through the natural layers, sharp and
straight down to the softly beating mist below. Two cliffs  reached in
from the outer walls to meet the long, circular wall that fell straight
down from the parade track. Where the rivers had run now poured more
falls, tumbling and leaching the stone. Erosion had pulled the dark
colors from the granite. Now the whole mountain top seemed to bleed.

"Rest a moment."

"We go down?"

"Somewhere around here. Keep an eye out while I check for the route."

Casaroc nodded again and put James down. James still seemed to sleep
easily but even after all that shaking he never woke or stirred. Casaroc
slapped him a few times to no effect.

Some hundred yard out was a narrow vein of weaker stone, tan unlike the
granite. A finger of the river had eaten it away and left a slit,
perhaps two feet wide. The slit fell at the same angle as the natural
veins of the stone, twenty degrees off vertical. The stone around it was
discolored by the flowing river. It would be hard to see from above.

"The route is still there. The climb will be very hard. Do you have any
rope?"

"Why isn't he waking up?"

"Because he sleeps in the Silent City. Nothing that sleeps here ever
wakes up."

"Will he die?"

"If he sleeps here, yes. We're going to get him out of here."

"Why didn't you warn us?"

"Casaroc, I'm not going to baby you. If you can't figure out not to
sleep in a place as dangerous as Carcosa, then Darwin is going take care
of you and do the future a lesson."

"Who is Darwin?"

Shit, I hadn't meant to let that slip. It was hard to remember my
stories and deceptions here, harder still to keep them straight. "Ask
James," I replied. "Speaking of whom, bring him over here."

I scanned everywhere, but did not see any color at all. The city was
dark and grim, white and black with a little gray and brown. Broken
buildings blocked sight lines to the lily patches. Only the mad stars
above had any color, and I avoided looking at them. We stole to the edge
of the slit and looked down.

"How far does it go?"

"To the clouds."

"Any safety tips you'd like to tell me? Perhaps stupid things that
anyone who's ever lived in Carcosa would know but those of us that
haven't don't?"

"Don't look back."

"Is looking down acceptable?"

"If you can handle heights," I shrugged.

"Very well," he sighed.

We didn't have any rope, but Casaroc's clothing had several leather
belts of some length. We fashioned simple safety harnesses. I removed my
shoes and tied them to my back. Then we secured James to Casaroc's back
and went down.

The softer stone, perhaps some form of limestone, had not eroded
completely away. The edges of the chimney were rough and provided good
holds. Only a few feet down I stopped and removed one of my earrings. On
a natural cup where it would be invisible from above I left it, first
making sure it was polished to mirror brightness.

"Daren?" I asked very quietly.

"Yes?" He spoke in my ear, whispering from my silver ball earring. If I
had looked I would have seen just the reflection of his lips.

"Are you there?"

"You mean mentally?"

"Yes." Mentally was only half the question, but it would serve.

"Yes. I feel completely lucid, but that can be a deception. I've noticed
a greater and greater feeling of calmness as you approached and finally
arrived at that dead place. You want me to keep watch behind you?"

"Yes. Can you?"

"Easily. The earring should prove to be a perfect mirror."

"Thank you."

"If you keep talking to me, Casaroc will start to wonder about your own
sanity."

"I know." I didn't know how to reply to that.

"Go reassure him. This route is several miles, if we recall, and that
will be very difficult."

"For the both of us."

"Nothing can stop you, my dear. I'm with you. Nothing can stop us at
all."

His words were like a tonic that settled my nerves and cooled my
spirits. I shimmied until I was only a few feet above Casaroc's head,
far enough to the side so that the slight rubble that fell before me
tumbled down next to him.

"Tell me when you need to rest," I told him. "There is a long way to go
and no sense tiring yourself out unnecessarily."

"Should we be worried about noise? Little things like whispers can echo
in a chimney like this."

"Not here. Sound doesn't travel in Carcosa."

"The Silent City?"

"Exactly."

"I noticed that above. We were so close to the waterfall, but I couldn't
hear it at all. The roar should sound for miles, but was gone on the
other side of the lake."

"Good," I acknowledged. "You're correct. Noise doesn't travel here. I
doubt our scrambling could be heard fifty feet above us."

"How far does this go?"

"To the cloud sea. Several miles straight down."

"Will we have enough light?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Isn't nightfall coming? Its been twilight since we got here."

"And it will remain twilight for a very long time. Don't worry about
that."

"You were raised here, weren't you? That's why you refer to this place
as your city."

"Yes. A very long time ago."

"You have something better to talk about?"

"Your history. I'm terribly curious about you and your name."

"I don't want to talk about it." He sounded determined and serious. I
sighed and let the matter rest again.

"Very well. Yes, I was raised here. My earliest memories were of this
place. That was back in the sunlight."

"The sunlight?"

"It used to be brilliant. Eternal sunshine, bright and blinding. You
remember the light when we approached this place? Do you remember the
way the sea glowed, the sky burned, and the whole city flared
brilliantly in the distance?"

"I do."

"Carcosa used to be like that everywhere. When I was young, younger than
I am now at any rate, the place dazzled and the palace was the center of
the light."

"It must have been beautiful."

"If you like living in an oven. The light burned. There was no place to
hide, no way to get alone, and the incessant gaze of a thousand staring
eyes hounded me without end. Without night there was no time to rest,
and the relentless, obsessive drive of never ending pulsing life drove
many people mad."

"You mean you never slept?"

"Oh, we slept. But it was never regular. Time did not exist in any
meaningful way here. You stayed awake until you fell exhausted, ragged
and dead to the world, and awoke again to repeat. Death by exhaustion
was like a plague. Sleep deprivation madness was another. I wonder if
that was what destroyed this place in the end, all the energy and drive
got too much for the masters and the whole city exploded in
directionless power."

"Don't you know?

"Know?"

"What destroyed Carcosa?"

"Oh, no, dear child. I was long gone by the time this place met its end,
though I'm perhaps the only soul to ever return. No, no one who saw
Carcosa fall lived. No one knows the doom that came here. No one alive."

"Why weren't you here?"

I wondered if he made the logical leap about why I needed Birus' coffin.
It was not terribly hard, but he was distracted. This question was a
little harder. I looked about me and felt more than saw the dark, the
shadows, and knew my memories would be far beyond me. I decided to tell
him what little I could here, while I could be truthful and refuse to
answer most of his questions.

"I was exiled."

"Why?"

"I tried to kill someone and failed. I was exiled more for failing than
the attempt. We took assassinations very seriously."

"Who?"

"Satre. Oddly enough, my attempt is what saved his life. He left Carcosa
after I did so his agents would have time to clean up the last traces of
the plot. He never returned, for there was nothing to return to and the
ways are closed."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't get here from most places. I don't mean you have to take a
wide detour. I mean it isn't possible. The route to Carcosa only exists
in very select places and is very carefully locked."

Casaroc was silent for a while, then asked me point blank, "Are you
going to kill me?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I know how to get here."

"No, actually you don't. I don't know how you got to Iron Mountain, but
I'm willing to bet your life you could not retrace your steps."

"But why take me here at all? Why risk it?" That's a brave question to
ask. He had seen accurately to the core of my own doubts, and I decided
to explain so I could hear how the words sounded. I could always change
my mind later.

"Because you're someone else I'd never met who will support my story
that I can do it. There are people to whom the knowledge that I can
return to our home will be very valuable. Unfortunately, they don't
trust me."

"Imagine that," he said acidly.

"Indeed. When we take our leave of each other, you will go forth with
the knowledge that I can do what I claim to be able to do. Sooner or
later someone will want that knowledge from you, they will find you, and
exact that information from you."

"Not pleasantly I take it."

"Possibly. It depends on who. They are then going to ask you how to get
to Carcosa. You'll either tell them you don't know or try to lead them
here and fail, and then you'll probably be killed to make sure you
aren't holding out." I was curious how he'd react to the full truth.

"Unless?"

"You come with me, of course. Our deal was for me to take you to a safe
place, and no place will be safe if you're going to be hunted. I'll take
you to Wilno, make your existence public, and once everybody in power
knows who you are and what you mean, your own fame will keep you alive."

"While simultaneously doing what you want me to."

"Imagine that," I threw his words back at him. "Now, for my purposes the
two outcomes are the same. Either way what you know gets out to the
people I want it to get to. Stay with me, and you'll survive the
process. Aren't I being nice?"

Casaroc paused and looked up at me. In the darkness I smiled at him,
confident and comfortable.

"So either I do your bidding, or I spend the rest of my probably short
life on the run?"

"I don't recommend you run from Satre. He doesn't like it if you run."

"You know, this is why I don't want to tell you anything about me."

"Even though I'm being nice? Don't look back, remember. Keep moving
forward."

"This is nice?" he said with a last glance over his shoulder. We resumed
our creep down the slit.

"For me."

"How do you do it? Treat people like this."

"Casaroc, let me explain something to you. There is something I'm going
to do. You don't need to know what. Just accept this. I'm going to do
it. Nothing will stop me. I will beg, borrow, or steal, lie cheat, and
murder, or rescue a thousand souls from poverty and make them rich for
life, I don't care. If I can help people, I will. If I can get what I
want by being nice, I will. But it matters not one whit to me. You can
make yourself very useful to me, and then I will go to great lengths to
help you. But what I must do will be done, and nothing can stop that. It
is as inevitable as time."

"Would you die for it?"

"Without blinking."

He did not have anything else to say for a while. We descended until
exhaustion took hold of him. I wedged myself against the wall with
sleeping James. The slope was shallow enough that you could recline and
only had to prop your legs against the opposite slab to resist tumbling.
As Casaroc regained his breath I looked deep below us. Uninterrupted the
crack plunged until it became a black line deep below. Above the sky had
already retreated to another dim line. The small shadows from great
chasm reached far across the soft rock to our right. There was little
worth seeing.

We continued later. We stopped speaking entirely, which conserved our
energy, and prevented the small noises we made from echoing above and
below. As long as James slept we would have nothing to fear from sound,
but I worried. Daren remained silent in my ear. We rested and descended
and rested again.

When at last a great vein broke the seeming endless plane of stone I
patted Casaroc and helped him turn around. It was a perfect toe hold,
and by lying on our faces we could stand easily. We held James between
us.

"Follow me, please," I asked.

I was in Casaroc's shadow, and he looked at me with curious exhaustion
as I began sidling deep into the mountain. When he came after I knew he
was tired enough to follow anyone provided they offered rest. The crack
was an easy path deep into the great core of the mountain. When the
light behind us was only a wan trickle the walls grew damp and slippery.
Soon small streams washed over the rough rocks. Hand holds became
treacherous, but the deep crag we stood on was safe and secure. Finally
a trickle bounced over the rocks and Casaroc fell on it like a lover,
drinking and letting the water flow over his face and body. I hooked
James behind the shoulder and held him until my accomplice had slacked
his thirst. Then I drank a little.

"It isn't much further," I told him.

"Till the bottom?"

"Oh, no. The bottom is still miles away. But I don't really want to
climb all the way down, do you?"

"No!" He was so emphatic he almost yelled.

"I thought so. We're far enough to take an easy way the rest of the
way," I assured him.

"Why didn't we take the easy way from the top?" he demanded.

"Simple. We need to go further in and rock gets ever more slippery. How
far in you think you could go before you fell?"

He ran his fingers across the stone, slick and wet. "We came down here
to get to this crack? For a foothold?"

"Precisely."

"Helen, you have this wonderful and completely unnecessary habit of
never telling anyone anything ahead of time. Do you have any idea how
annoying that is?"

"I never thought about it."

"Unbelievably," he almost shouted at me.

"I don't believe you," I agreed.

"Infuriatingly!" he shouted furiously.

"Very well. We're going to go down to my left until we come to the
river. It has worn the rock mirror smooth. Do you know what we're going
to do then?"

"Slide the rest of the way?"

"Yes."

"I was joking."

"I wasn't."

"We're sliding how far?"

"To the bottom."

"Miles?"

"Miles."

"Whatever."

"Splendid."

We went deeper. Soon it was pitch black, and we moved because there was
only one way to go. We heard the echoes of falling water not long before
my outstretched hand met a waterfall like the granddaughter of the great
----- above. I leaned back against the opposing wall, here almost three
feet from me, and told Casaroc to go past.

"I'll take care of James. Go forward until you find the river bed. It
will feel like the wall is dropping away from you. Just throw yourself
into the water and relax. The current will take you down."

"What about the sudden stop?"

"There's a large pool. It isn't very deep."

In the dark I heard Casaroc breathing, slowly as his exhausted mind
tried to grind through the possible outcomes. I could also hear
exhaustion winning. I pushed him over the edge, metaphorically.

"If you'd rather, I can go first."

"Oh, whatever. This won't kill me?"

"You should be fine."

"Can you handle James?"

"I'll take care of him." In the dark he couldn't see the casual, one
handed grip I had on our slumbering compatriot. Casaroc bumbled past me
in the dark and found the chute. With a cry he dove in and a long
echoing wail of excitement shot down into the unknown.

"Daren?"

He did not respond. I turned and twisted so the barest fragment of light
from the crack caught my earring and tried again, hoping it was enough
to cast a reflection. "Daren?"

"No pursuit."

"Can you destroy the earring?"

"Yes. It's gone."

"Excellent."

"What next?"

"First James goes into the chute," I said as I moved along. I felt the
hole, held James over it, and readjusted my grip on his head. "Unless
I'm careful he'll drown in the fall," I explained to Daren.

"And?"

"Then he'll die."

"And?"

"That would be bad."

"Isn't that the point anyway?"

"What?"

"Aren't you doing this to kill the both of them? Casaroc's gone, toss
James to his demise, and leave. I'm amazed by the way you talked Casaroc
into killing himself, but I've always had the deepest respect for you."

"Casaroc should survive."

"What? You mean that stuff you told him was the truth?"

"Of course? Why would I lie?"

"Why not? These people are mensch."

"You were mensch once," I replied.

"I know. And I'm dead. Mensch are worthless. Kill the lot of them."

"No, Daren. I need these ones alive."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'll explain shortly. First I have to go make sure Casaroc doesn't die.
Besides, I rather like him."

Daren was silent, baffled and confused. I carefully held James to my
chest and stepped into the trough the river had cut.

I fell for miles. The water caught me and sucked me along the dark way.
Soon the pipe, for pipe it had been, diverged from the slit and I no
longer had to worry about falling out. Then I relaxed and enjoyed the
thrill.

At the end, when I saw a faint white dot below me and rushed through it
the instant I noticed it in the distance, I shot into open air and along
a great wet sheet of volcanic glass. It was perfectly smooth. Vast
dovetails rose behind me, beating the air like they were trying to get
free and fly. I spun and skittered across the surface of the water.

The glass was a wide saddle shape and I had come down where one pommel
would have been. With James securely in my arms I cut a wide arc up the
opposing side before plunging down again. This slide was much shorter
and ended in the wide, shallow pool I'd warned Casaroc about. He was
bobbing in the water, paddling and playing happily with the simplicity
of a child. I considered him amused and towed James to the shore. He was
breathing fine.

"Casaroc, come here for a moment."

"Sure," he yelled. I smiled at him and glanced up at the sky. Low above
us was a roof of impenetrable clouds, the cloudsea. It radiated a soft,
warming light completely unlike the dim twilight of Carcosa. I sighed.

"That was fun," Casaroc told me, surprised. "I didn't die, it didn't
even hurt, and everything worked just like you told me."

"See," I replied. I reached out and took his hand to drag him from the
water and up the shore. Thick soft soil with thick grass covered the
bank, green and healthy. "Am I so bad?"

"Probably," he replied. He was relaxed and open, and his walls had been
worn down by fatigue and excitement. He was a very attractive man. We
strolled a dozen yards up the bank, and he plopped down when his legs
wobbled underneath him.

"Would you like to know another secret before it happens?" I sat beside
him.

"Sure."

I looked him in the eyes and smiled, then rolled on top of him. I let my
soaking skin touch his and stared into his eyes. Our faces were so close
the tips of our noses grazed. Instinctively he reached up and held me. I
could feel his body, feel mine, and feel him react to mine.

"This is why I'm going to let you live," I said softly, and bent close
to him.

He relaxed, opened his mouth slightly, and waited.

I hit him with the Will.

It smashed into his consciousness like a juggernaut. I reached into his
memories and dug up every trace of Iron Mountain, every memory and every
memory of a memory of how to get there, and ripped them from his mind. I
ate that part of his history like he had never been there. Surgically I
destroyed everything and then went back checked that it was gone.
Finally I leaned forward, kissed him softly on the forehead, and then
wiped away everything after he lay down on the bank. He was paralyzed
still with eyes were open wide and sightless. On my way out I flicked
the light switch and he was unconscious and comatose, sleeping easy.

I stood up, shook some of the water off me, and glanced at James. There
were no signs of awakening there.

"I was almost sick," Daren murmured in my ear.

"You have no romance in your soul," I chided.

"Of course not," he snapped. "And if I ever have to watch you almost
kiss another man again I'm going to go stark raving mad."

"You do that quite regularly," I retorted. Then I sighed. "I'm sorry. It
was necessary."

"In the name of the Master, why?" he demanded. He was exasperated, more
confused then before, and angry.

"Because he didn't trust me, and wouldn't let me in. I needed him to
lower his defenses, trust me, let me in, or I wouldn't be able to do
what I wanted to do. What I did to the fisherman was clumsy, brutal, and
almost vulgar. Casaroc is terribly useful and only useful if he's in the
hands of people like Duncton who will know if I do something as blatant
as what I did before, and possibly be able to undo it. We have very few
bargaining chips, Daren. The location of Carcosa is perhaps our most
valuable. We need that, because without it, you're going to stay in that
hell forever and after much more of this I'll die too." I was yelling by
the end of that.

I stood alone on the field and let the silence seep into me. I heard the
sound of my own breathing, and glanced at James again. He was still
gone. I was waiting, just waiting for Daren to say anything. I was
ready.

"I'm sorry," he replied quietly. "I'll leave you to our work."

I was not ready for that and did not understand what was going on for
quite a while. Then I deflated fell to the ground, sitting on my feet.

"Way to go, Helen," I told myself. "Pick a fight with the man in hell.
Really tell him off. Did you win, Helen? Was he a fair fight right now?
Are you so stupid that you can't beat Daren in a battle of words when
he's confused and jealous without screaming? Are you so stupid you have
to make it a battle of words?"

"Daren?" I whispered. He did not respond. "Idiot," I called us.

When I was firmly in control again I stood up. I removed my earring and
placed it back in the case I had bought it from the jeweler in. I put
that in the same pouch as the four stones. The stones themselves were
bone dry, perhaps the only thing on me that was so. I flicked a drop of
water on them from my hair and watched it sizzle.

"Imagine that," I borrowed Casaroc's phrase unconsciously. "It's
working."

They were both still sleeping so I rose and stretched. My clothes had
drip dried enough to no longer hang straight and clung to me with the
dedication of a bad reputation. I adjusted them as best I could. The
bowl of the lake lay at the bottom of a wide trough cut through the side
of the mountain beside us. Higher up, perhaps halfway between where we
stood at the ceiling of boiling clouds was the pipe we had emerged from,
feeding gushing water into a wide delta of black glass. Some few other
streams poured down here as well. Around the trough on three sides were
the knees of the vast mountain that rose to disappear above us. They
were covered in scrub, short stubborn plants that lived out of a
belligerent refusal to accept their situation. I went to them and
noticed their small blue flowers were just beginning to blossom. Several
of these I took, moved to respect.

On the last side of the lake was a vast broken plain, filled with
shattered masonry and tumbled buildings. Scorched earth, burnt to glass
and unbroken by life lead from the ruins up the trough and disappeared
behind the clouds above. Bits and pieces of wreckage had flown free, and
lay on either side, sometimes peering through grass and shrub and
sometimes visible only as oddly distended hillocks, strange twisted
forms that seemed to crouch under a blanket of grass. I walked among
them, not entering the wasted land, enjoying the grass and watching with
some amusement the small insects that flittered from plant to plant.
There was something I wanted to say but I could not remember what.

Eventually the other two awoke. I let them rest and conduct their toilet
undisturbed. They talked for a while, laughed, and Casaroc pointed out
the avenue we had taken in our descent. He traced a wide path across the
glass with his finger, and they both laughed again. Then their
discussion changed and became matter of fact and business.

"Good morning, gentlemen," I said when I returned. "Sleep well?"

"I did. Like the dead," James replied. He smiled when he said it, amused
by his little joke.

"Me too."

"You should have," I told Casaroc. "You were asleep almost as soon as
you lay down." Which was the truth.

"Speaking of which," he replied. "Why did James sleep and almost never
wake up, but you woke up when he shook you a few times?"

"I don't know," I admitted. I wanted them on my side and admitting a
slight personal weakness might be a way to let them join me. "I've been
thinking about that as well. How are your lilies?"

"Oh, right!" James startled and franticly checked himself over. He found
them in a pocket, undisturbed. Tense left him, and he unconsciously
resumed a natural stance. Casaroc watched him with a bland expression.

"Good. Let's go."

The other two shrugged and fell in behind me. We went through the tall
grass and short bushes to the wide dead expanse of ruin. Behind me my
accomplices sighed in eerie unity as we broached the desolate surface
and began moving through the dead city again.

"Well, this answers what happened to that part of the city," James
observed. Casaroc grumbled something to him and they agreed on whatever
it was.

"Are we picking up any dead men here?" Casaroc asked.

"No. We're leaving," I answered.

"Where too?"

"Does it matter? Anywhere but here right now, on to Wilno as soon as
possible."

"I hate it when anyone says that," grumbled James.

"Why?" asked Casaroc curiously.

"You remember when you said that to us?"

"Yes."

"You were running away from something. Whenever anyone says that they're
running away from something. Nothing good ever comes when someone says
that."

They talked as we went along, using normal voices unconstrained by the
odd injunction towards silence and quiet that dominated the city above.
Vast interlocked buildings had crumbled to piles around us, destroyed
yet still distinct and untouched in mute testimony to the exceptional
skill their architects had employed. We could move between what had been
city blocks, moving outwards from the center and avoiding the vast
tumbled palace of leached marble. Discoloration had turned the snow
white to sickly stains. It seemed an unhealthy place, and we gave it a
wide berth.

"That being said," Casaroc was saying as we turned towards the heap that
was our destination. "We don't know we're being pursued now."

"Of course we are," James replied calmly. With resignation he asked,
"What would be worse? Pursuit or no pursuit?"

"Pursuit."

"And has the worst case ever not happened on this trip?"

"A good point."

"Don't tempt fate," I interjected. "We're here."

"We're where?"

Here was a pile of straw and reed wreckage, filthy but undecayed. Cheap
houses had tumbled together into a pile that had crashed into a great
stone mound from a bordering, wealthier district. I began picking away
at a pile of thatch, and they joined in to help me.

"The way out."

It was the work of moments to clear aside the little mound of debris.
Beneath was a small opening between piles of shattered rock. We went
down into the dark.

After three corners the last shadows of daylight were gone. We moved by
touch, following the left-hand wall with out fingers. It felt old, in
the peculiar way caves convey their age to the fingers. The stones that
should have been broken in th fall were intact, simply relocated
chaotically. Always a way through remained.

In time, James found something. His fingernails tapped a difference in
the stone and a clear bell chime rang in the dark. Both the other two
froze, and I heard them stop breathing.

"Did he just kill us all?" Casaroc asked me.

"No. That's what we were looking for."

"Oh, thank goodness," James sighed.

The entity that caused that to be there is in no way good, I very
carefully did not say. Instead I turned back and found James and what he
was holding. It was heavy disk, cold and perfectly smooth on the front
and rear. There was a small bag under it that I handed to Casaroc in the
dark.

"Here. Take this."

He took it gingerly and held it like it was a bomb. We continued along
our way deeper into the earth. Suddenly the wall vanished and the
ceiling, a monolithic slab of granite, rose until we could not touch it.


I lead the way out into the chamber, testing the ground before me with
my foot. I began to hum softly.

"Here, take this," Casaroc told James.

"No. You keep it."

"I don't want it."

"Tough. She gave it to you. And stop talking. She's singing."

"Why does that matter?"

"It's probably magic singing."

It was a song about a young gentleman whose paramour had just declined
his proposal, but I did not bother to tell them that. "You probably want
to keep that bag, Casaroc. It's a gift."

"Why do I want it?"

"I don't know. It's a bag of gold bars and money. Is that the sort of
thing you want?"

Casaroc stood very, very still. There were noises as he picked at the
strings holding the bag shut, then a soft clinking. He whistled in the
dark.

"You know, I'm willing to take that bag from you now," James offered.

"That's the normal way it works, right? You work for me; I pay you in
money?" I hadn't done this in a very long time so I wasn't sure if the
rules had changed.

"Money is fine," Casaroc whispered.

"Good," I was relieved. This was a new and mildly uncomfortable way for
me to handle business.

"Can I have a bag of gold and money, ma'am?" James asked.

"Well, James. Right now I'm doing you a favor, so to be fair, you should
be paying me. But, don't worry about it. We'll call this a favor between
friends if you stop calling me 'ma'am.'"

"Yes, Helen."

"Thank you," I replied, smiling in the dark. "Ah, here we are. Come
here, gentlemen."

"How much did you get?" James asked.

"Three bars, each the size of my fist, and a bunch of slips of paper."

"Can I have the slips of paper?"

"No."

"Damn."

"Gentlemen," I said again, a bit less patiently.

They hustled over.

Underneath my fingers was the worn surface of a door. When they were
close enough to touch I took the handle and twisted it sharply, pulling
while I breathed "Wilno." There was a key still in the lock.

The doorknob broke apart in my fingers.

"Was something supposed to happen?" asked Casaroc.

"Yes," I snapped. I hate answering questions.

James grunted sagely. Casaroc returned to feeling his money. I
considered strangling the two of them here in the dark where there were
no witnesses. Instead I explored the outlines of the door, and found
that half of it had been crushed by falling rubble. That had not been
the case when I had used it before. I took the key out and noticed that
falling rubble had also broken it in half. A snarl escaped me.

"Come along," I ordered and started back the way we had come. With the
cold metal held tight against my chest, I traced the wall with one hand
and soon emerged into daylight.

"So, what's that?" James asked, blinking as he came out behind me. He
pointed at the disk.

Instead of answering I held the disk before me and twisted the top. It
was lacquered blue and white, and the bottom was pure green. James
blinked as he recognized Van's personal colors as well as Duncton's, for
the two were rarely together. The two halves separated like saucers, and
I produced a pair of keys. Jame's eyes opened wide as he recognized
them.

"It was a door down there," he guessed. He was suddenly excited. "All we
need is another door and we can leave!"

"Precisely. Find a door."

"We'll be gone in ten minutes!"

"Not hardly. The only keys I have lead to Wilno, and that's very far.
After you find the door I'll start the preparations, but it will still
be several hours before we can leave."

He shrugged. "Then the sooner I find a doorway, the sooner you can
start. Besides, I'm hungry." He winked at me, his cheerfulness peeking
through the anger, and sprinted off. I shrugged. It was a matter of
power, something I was lacking right now.

"Go help him," I told Casaroc. All my good options were now gone and I
was examining the two keys, Duncton's green and Van's white and blue,
wondering which devil I was going to make a deal with. If I went to
Duncton I would use a lot of my bargaining power when he didn't hand me
over to Mandrake. Van would be less stingy in his help, but his twin,
Mandrake, was the very person I'd need help to avoid. This would be
tricky.

"Oh, that's pretty," Casaroc replied. He was holding one bar the width
of his palm and slightly thicker up to the light. It was pure, polished
gold, soft and beautiful. He was only touching it by the corners,
leaving its face unmarred by fingerprints. "See? Isn't that pretty?" He
held it over to me to examine.

"Fantastic." I glanced at it involuntarily and saw my reflection.

Daren, bright and mad, stared back. The gold behind him shone like fire,
burning and liquid.

"They come," he whispered.

"Thank you," Casaroc said, smiling like a fond father at his gold. He
started to pull his hand back so he could stare at it again. I caught
his arm and yanked the bar back towards my face, white knuckling his
wrist.

"What comes?" I demanded of Daren.

"Look and see. By the chute."

My head snapped up. Casaroc, hanging by his forearm from my hand, was
looking at me confused. I didn't care.

Moving through the sky was a vast ball of black wings. Not many
creatures flying together, their bodies clustered about some unknown
middle point like a swarm, this was one entity with vast shadowy wings
that rose high above it and beat down in a single long stroke that took
them to the center beneath. There the bone and tendon melted together
and retracted, pulled up into the body like a pseudopod to emerge from
the top again and diverge into another pair. Some dozen sets were all
moving, appearing an being reabsorbed into the filthy mass of its body.
The eye rebelled when I tried to count, for the mechanics of its rapid
flight were unnatural. Referring to the center of it as a body was a
lie, for there was nothing there but the point of convergence where the
beating limbs met.

I dropped Casaroc, forgetting he existed.

He rolled and sprawled underneath me. He stared up at me and saw the
smile start to escape from the edges of my face.

"Helen?"

"Doom," I answered, like a virgin saying 'yes' at the altar.

He twisted his head around, saw the monstrosity, and rose to his feet.
"Run or fight?"

"Fight, of course." I have often wondered what I would be capable of
when there was no longer any hope to distract me.

"Can we win?"

I smiled at him, my first pure smile in a very long time. It was totally
free of the restraints I'd worn since Seth's dinner.

"James! Find the damn door!" Casaroc screamed. To me he asked, "When he
finds it, can we leave? Can you hold it off?"

"Of course not. I'd need the power of a hurricane, and the fury of a
thunderstorm." It was relaxing, in a way. I could smell Daren, feel his
presence at my back and his hands on my shoulders, welcoming me to him.
I did not wonder if when I died I'd share his prison. We would find out
soon.
"A thunderstorm? Hold on," Casaroc said.

I was considering my strategy, deciding which of the great planets I
would use a sink for the energy in the futile struggle I was so eagerly
anticipating. Everything had become simple as I took a great breath of
pure air, and smelled something that I had never smelled here before.
The air stank of rain.

The entire sky exploded, and lightning fell from the heavens. Its impact
threw boulders the size of houses into the air, and thunder shattered
rocks. The clouds turned to water and a sledgehammer of flood came
smashing down.

Then, like all storms, it noticed me. We knew each other, the Tempest
and I. It was furious that it had been summoned so abruptly and enraged
to find me here. The Tempest coiled itself, bunched and clenched the
cloudsea above, and brought the air to boil. In my pocket were my
stones, and I held them, using them as a focus for a very short spell.

"The Predator of the Tempest shall hunt the Shoggoth," I said very
softly.

Casaroc was carrying me as the sky tore itself apart. He found James in
the driving rain, I handed him the Key to Duncton's Manse, and we went
through the doorway on a carpet of power siphoned from the storm. It
almost felt bad to survive.