Gyre focused his mind, as the old ghoul had instructed, concentrating his attention on the second implant, which sat under another fresh incision by the base of his skull, below his left ear. He could only just feel it with his finger, and once the cut faded there’d be no outward sign of it. When he gave it his full attention, however, it grew warm, and after a second something shifted with a click he could feel through his skull. His eye gave a whirr, and the world changed.

Everything seemed … slow, suddenly. Almost weightless. And objects weren’t simply themselves anymore, but were surrounded by a dense cloud of translucent duplicates stretching in the direction they were moving. These were possibilities, Naumoriel had told him, the shadow a moving object cast into the future. Where it would be one second, two seconds, three seconds from now. What would happen if it turned, collided, bounced.

At first it had given him no more than a splitting headache. But he’d practiced, as the old ghoul had instructed, and slowly he’d been able to make sense of the crowded shadow-world. Now he bent, picked up a stone, and flicked it into the air, watching its shadows race ahead of it to trace out a perfect parabola. He hurled a second pebble sideways, its path ricocheting off the front of a shuttered stable before precisely intersecting the first rock as it came down. He watched it happen, shadows growing more solid until the two stones came together with a click and fell back to the cobbles.

If all else fails, at least I can make my living in a circus. Just not for very long. On his right hip, he wore the energy bottle, and he could feel it growing warm, too, as its power crackled through his body to fuel his new abilities. On his other hip, in its leather sheath, Naumoriel’s final gift seemed to hum with anticipation.

Gyre let his concentration lapse, and the world of shadow and possibility faded away. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his head throbbed, but not as badly as it had after his earliest practices. He paused for a moment, breathing deep, until the pain subsided a little, then turned the last corner and headed for the Mushroom’s Daughter.

The inn was marked by a sign showing a busty young woman wearing a red-and-white mushroom cap and very little else. Light streamed out from its windows, and smoke gushed from several chimneys. As he got closer, he heard voices emerging as well, belting out an old scavenger’s song in not-very-good unison:

First time down she didn’t know what she’d find

Second time down she thought she’d lose her mind

Third time down she took me by the hand

Fourth time down she told me I was grand

Show me the way, tunnel girl, show me the way

Down to your secret tunnel