Surprisingly, Lanier hadn’t considered that possibility. He had not, of course, actually seen Mirsky go down the Way.

“No lies,” the Russian said. “I am pleased to finally meet you. I have always thought your husband a fine man, a true leader, with sound judgment. I congratulate both of you.”

“Why?” Lainer asked.

“On having found each other,” the Russian explained.

“Thank you,” Karen said sharply. “Have you offered our guest any refreshment, Garry?” She carried her duffel into the cabin. Her suspicion had turned into anger.

“We’re expecting the shuttle any minute,” he answered. “We’ve eaten a little, and had a beer.”

The Russian smiled at the mention of the beer. His enjoyment had been obvious.

Karen made various small noises in the kitchen, then continued her interrupted conversation through the screened window opening onto the porch. “We’re going to get twenty or thirty village leaders and political science students from Christchurch and fly them to Axis Thoreau. It’s going to be a kind of conference, all in city memory, to establish social ties it would take years to make otherwise. They’ll all act as if they were family afterwards, if it goes well. Think of all politicians having family ties with each other, and their constituents? It could be wonderful.” Her tone had changed; now she was ignoring the mystery.

Lanier suddenly felt exhausted. All he wanted was to lie back on the old couch before the cabin’s fireplace and close his eyes.

“Here comes the shuttle,” the Russian said, pointing. A blip of white soared across the opposite side of the valley, then swooped in low, just above the trees. Karen returned to the porch, face strained, and looked up at her husband.

“What in hell are you doing?” she demanded in an undertone. “Where are you going?”

Lanier shook his head. “To the Stone.” Everything was losing its edge of reality. Nothing seemed very probable. “I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

“You shouldn’t go alone. I can’t go with you,” she said. “I have to be in Christchurch tomorrow.” She glanced at Lanier. Karen was no fool, but she was having a difficult time shifting gears. Her expression said that she knew just how odd this really was; and how important it might be. “Maybe you can explain to me after you get to the Stone?”

“I’ll try,” Lanier said.

“I am sorry for the disruption,” the Russian said quietly.

“You shut up,” Karen cried, turning on him. “You’re just a goddamned ghost.”

At that, Lanier smiled. He put his hand on Karen’s shoulder, both to reassure her and stop her from saying more. The gestures come easily enough, he thought. Why not the feeling?