“Anything whatsoever,” Egdod said, “and that is the promise and the danger of it. For the chaos that you see down there is the source of all you see and all you are.” But in his private thoughts Egdod weighed the words of Pluto and of the others. During idle moments he would perch on the edge of the wall he had thrown up around the Fastness, gazing down into the chaos below and testing himself by seeing what new forms he could draw forth from it. Motes of color he saw in the static, such as he had painstakingly shaped into leaves in the very beginning, and these he sought to form into new shapes that might clothe the flying creatures he was building with Thingor. And in the roar of noise that came up from the pit he sometimes heard strains that had about them some character of melody or rhythm. Those he pursued in the windings of his mind, and lost them more often than not. But when they did not elude him he was able to draw them forth out of the noise and to discover music in them. He was not creating the music but rescuing it by stripping away the harsh and formless noise in which it had somehow become ensnared. Rich strains of music began to fill the Fastness. All who visited the place remarked on its beauty, and it gave new vigor to Thingor, who seemed to possess some art of transmuting sounds into new objects of beauty and ingenuity that had not before been seen in the Land.

Nor was he the only one at work making new wonders in the Fastness. The blankets and the garment-stuff of Knotweave had put the Pantheon in mind of making smaller and finer fabrics on which marks could be inscribed using loose feathers from wings dipped in black potions concocted from the fruits and barks of certain trees. The ingenuity of Knotweave thus came together with Warm Wings’s feathers and Freewander’s knowledge of trees and flowers to create paper and ink. Longregard and Freewander roamed about drawing maps of the Land and pictures of mountains and trees. Speaksall and Greyhame for their parts devised a system of writing and put it to use setting down accounts of what had happened in the Land, as best as it could be remembered. They taught these arts to certain souls of Town, foremost among them a woman who came to be known as Pestle.

When summer was nearing its peak, Egdod flew out from the Fastness carrying the form of a bird that Thingor had devised, into which he hoped Spring might breathe life. But before going her way he flew in a broad sweep across the Land, climbing high into the air to seek out the wild souls who made its winds and its weathers, and making a circuit of its coast to speak with the wild souls of the oceans. To each of them he made it known that in a few months’ time, when the apples were harvested in the Garden, there would be a feast, and that each of them would be welcome to take part in it.