“By the time she at last came under the Evertempest, El had finished his work and pitched the key off the Precipice. He and his angels and the Autochthons were already long gone. Beedles were marching away in long columns, headed back to the places whence they had been mustered. Hill-giants, released from bondage, were stomping about aimlessly. Beasts of burden, no longer needed for anything, had simply been turned loose in harsh country where forage was scarce. Spring by then had come to understand that Egdod had returned to the Land, not just once but many times, and had roamed up and down it in diverse guises looking for her to no avail.”

The ground shook beneath their feet, and not just with the footfalls of Edda, to which they had grown accustomed. Because of the nature of Weaver’s narration, more than a few of them were predisposed to interpret it as the approach of something really bad. Mab flinched and fluttered. But then a long chortling rumble reached their ears and they understood that they were now close enough to the Evertempest that they could hear its thunder as well as see its lightning. Burr, who had put a second hand on the smoky haft of his weird spear, let go and went back to using it as a walking stick.

“Get used to that,” Corvus suggested.

Lyne, once he had got over the brief fright occasioned by the thunderclap, was back on the topic of Weaver’s story. “No wonder the Asking is still such a shithole,” he said.

“You could almost say god-forsaken,” Mard responded.

“Gods, plural,” said Querc, with a glance toward Pick. “Remember Pluto ditched out on it too.”

“We may yet come to wish that Spring had been as careless of these parts,” said Edda. Not in a notably fearful way. More of an observation.

Prim caught Corvus looking at her. “Yes,” he said, “get ready to kill things.” Burr, Mard, and Lyne each fondled their weapons. Burr had claimed the angel’s sword but did not risk his companions’ eyesight by drawing it even a finger’s breadth from its scabbard. He contented himself with patting its hilt. But Prim knew that Corvus had been talking to her.

Fern well knew where her cutlass and dagger were to be found, and so kept her arms crossed in front of her. She was eyeing a tree, not far off, that stood dead and black at the top of a rise. Lightning had carved a charred spiral from its top to its roots and blown its bark off.