Back Fall; or, Dodge in Hell
Chapters (77)
  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Dedication
  4. Book 1
  5. Part 1
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Part 2
  15. Chapter 9
  16. Chapter 10
  17. Chapter 11
  18. Part 3
  19. Chapter 12
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Chapter 16
  24. Part 4
  25. Chapter 17
  26. Chapter 18
  27. Chapter 19
  28. Chapter 20
  29. Chapter 21
  30. Chapter 22
  31. Chapter 23
  32. Chapter 24
  33. Part 5
  34. Chapter 25
  35. Chapter 26
  36. Chapter 27
  37. Chapter 28
  38. Chapter 29
  39. Chapter 30
  40. Chapter 31
  41. Chapter 32
  42. Part 6
  43. Chapter 33
  44. Chapter 34
  45. Chapter 35
  46. Chapter 36
  47. Chapter 37
  48. Chapter 38
  49. Chapter 39
  50. Chapter 40
  51. Chapter 41
  52. Part 7
  53. Chapter 42
  54. Book 2
  55. Part 8
  56. Chapter 43
  57. Chapter 44
  58. Part 9
  59. Chapter 45
  60. Chapter 46
  61. Chapter 47
  62. Part 10
  63. Chapter 48
  64. Chapter 49
  65. Part 11
  66. Chapter 50
  67. Chapter 51
  68. Chapter 52
  69. Chapter 53
  70. Chapter 54
  71. Chapter 55
  72. Chapter 56
  73. Map of The Land
  74. Acknowledgments
  75. About The Author
  76. Also By Neal Stephenson
  77. Copyright

“It is the Pantheon,” Egdod told her. “That is the name that came to the mind of Speaksall. You will have noticed that it is in the nature of some souls to develop greater powers than is common. You for example have made for yourself a form unlike that of any other. I will wager that other souls in Town, gazing upon your beauty, have tried to alter themselves after your fashion but have failed to achieve it. They might lack sufficient control over their own forms. More likely they do not have your wits. The perfection of your form belies the long toil that must have gone into its devising; which indeed is part of its artfulness. For how many seasons did you work at making yourself thus, perhaps hidden away in some house where no other soul could observe what you were doing? In that time you might have asked yourself what was the point of so much striving. But I say to you now that in doing so you were setting yourself apart from these others who did not think to strive in such a way; or if they did, lacked the will or the wit to go on. That is why your place is at my table and not down here among these. For here in Town you will ever be the one who perches on the roof.”

Warm Wings made no answer, but listened with utmost care.

Egdod went on: “I see that you understand my words and know well of what I speak. Souls such as you are required in my Pantheon for a reason that is simple to explain: you see things to which I am blind and in various other ways exceed me. Come to the Palace with me, Warm Wings.” And she did.

The coldness of the winter compelled the souls of Town to adopt new ways. Some few who had the power to wreak great alterations in their forms covered their skin with feathers or hair to keep the cold out. Among others, the crafts of Knotweave spread, and souls made blankets, then garments of such rude fabric as could be fashioned from the fibers of fallen leaves and dead grass. That the same things could also be burned to make warmth they learned from Thingor, who, the better to work metal, had grown adept at making fire.