“They do not all speak in the same tongue, of course,” Speaksall pointed out to him later. “They will clump according to their manner of talking; and the new houses that they build for themselves may be sown far and wide across the Land rather than being together in a single Town that lies within your view and beneath the threat of your terrible weapons.”

“So be it,” Egdod said. And so it was, for souls had already begun grouping themselves in the manner that Speaksall had foretold, and were struggling out of Town in various directions. It could be guessed that each was of a mind to build its own town far away from others who spoke in different tongues, and far away from the abode of Egdod. Egdod took no measures to prevent it.

But after the Town was empty, and contained no souls to gaze on his work, he persisted in his practice of building the hill higher, until the Palace had become a soaring tower unto itself, perched on the summit of a pillar that projected above the clouds. No longer did the hum of the Hive trouble his ears. Instead his work was accompanied by sweet sounds made by a new soul who had lately come into the Land. Longregard had discovered her perched on a rubble heap below, amid the ruins of the Hive, playing a tune by blowing over the top of a hollow bone. She—or perhaps he, for this soul never seemed to make up his or her mind as to sex—had been adopted by those who dwelled in the Palace, and become a favorite of Thingor and Knotweave, who had assisted her, or him, in fashioning many kinds of new devices for making all sorts of sounds. Egdod had named this soul Paneuphonium and given them leave to perch wherever they pleased. Paneuphonium had rewarded Egdod by learning to make just the kind of music that suited him when he was in a mood to build and alter those parts of the Land that were still in need of bettering.

So high did Egdod build the pinnacle that, when he looked down from his solitary chamber at its top, he could see all parts of the Land, provided that the weather afforded him clear views. And when he looked up he could of course see the stars. But if he redoubled the intensity and the penetration of his gaze he could see through the veil of night into the infinite sea of chaos that lay beyond it. Nor did seeing chaos above trouble his thoughts, any more than seeing it below did in the bottomless chasm under the Fastness. For he had mastered chaos and made it his servant now.