“How long has this copy been sitting on whatever bootleg server?”

“Nine years,” Solly said.

Which confirmed it. For nine years had now passed since the day when the high sysadmins of Zelrijk-Aalberg had announced that they had at last isolated the security leak that had been allowing the REAP to keep respawning and closed the loophole for good. And, as it were, thrown away the key.

“I’m all ears,” said Corvallis Kawasaki.

“You seem all feathers to me,” said Solly, “but whatever.”

Part 10

10

Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Six dawns in a row, a new soul glimmered on a branch of the old tree, only to fade in the strong light of the day. Prim, looking out the window in the hour before dawn, could see it there. It looked like a star softened by drifting fog and mist. Even after the light of day had extinguished it she could, by moving about on the grass beneath, make herself see the faint distortion that the soul was creating in the air.

On the seventh morning it seemed to discard all hopes and intentions of ever making light of its own, and darkened and solidified into the form of a black bird. This perched on the branch for some days, seeming dead except that it would shift its footing from time to time when strong winds came down from the mountains. When gusts ruffled its feathers it would open its wings just enough to learn a few things about how they worked, then fold them tight against its body and close its eyes for a while.

Blossoms flourished on a few branches of the ancient tree that were still capable of bearing apples. By the time these had withered and blown away, the black bird was fully formed, and capable of flight—though not very good at it. Prim woke up one morning and looked out her window to find the branch vacant, the bird nowhere to be seen. She felt a pang of loss. But then the still air of dawn was fractured by a clattering of black feathers and a scraping of talons on the stone sill of her window. She leapt back. The bird perched on the window frame and gazed at her curiously. “I am Corvus,” it announced, “and I am not like other new souls who come into the Land, though I cannot remember why.”

“Oh, of that, there is no doubt,” said Prim. For she had never heard tell of a new soul who had adopted a form and acquired the power of speech so readily. Indeed, had Corvus so manifested in other parts of the Land, he’d have been done away with by the superstitious folk who dwelled in such parts. That he had come into being in a tree in the garden of the Calladons was lucky, for the Calladons were queer folk. “My name is Prim,” she said. “My family is Calladon. This is Calla.”

“What do those words mean? Prim? Calladon?”