Hasim’s light moved faster. The ibis struck. Its beak passed through Umar’s chest, but did not pierce. It clutched the demon like a frog and drew it screaming from Umar’s body into the strange cold world where these fleshlings lived. Exposed, about to die, the demon fled—seeping through small holes in this alien world back to its own.

Umar opened his eyes. Hasim’s light stung them. They embraced, and kissed. Umar’s shoulders heaved once, a sob that strangled itself.

“It hurt,” Umar said.

“Not anymore.”

*   *   *

Claire, dependable Claire, the iron prop on which Corbin leaned, advanced upon him, full of rage. He released Matt, and sought the wall for support.

“Claire,” he said. “Ellen doesn’t know what she’s doing. We need to help her. Where’s Hannah?”

“Hannah,” Claire said, “is safe with Mr. Adorne’s family. Ellen is where she needs to be. We are not yours to order. We aren’t your kids anymore. You haven’t let us be for a long time.”

“Claire, the girls don’t know. The moon, she’s lying to you all. They need help.”

“I bought your line, Father. I helped you too damn much. I held all this together for you. I shored you up and I kept my sisters weak.”

“Claire!”

“You’re sick,” she said. “You’ve been sick a long time. You need help. You—you don’t get to order her, or Hannah, or me, anymore. This is Ellen’s place. You can’t chase her from it. If you try, I’ll stop you.”

Corbin’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Matt,” she said. “Watch him. We have work to do.”

She left them, and walked to the stage, where Ellen stood in a ring of light. She took her hand, and the light healed, and the whirlpool turned.

The crowd prayed.

Corbin fell, and watched his daughters lead them.

*   *   *

—And as fast as the world skewed, it settled back. Tara sped through the goddess’s net. Those were her feet walking the moon road. She found firm footing on—what was this? More than reality. Surreality. The world above.

Whatever it was, she could walk it.

And because it was everywhere, each step brought her anywhere she wished to go—anywhere the moon answered to Seril’s name.

Wait. So I’ve been walking inside you—and you’re under attack in Alt Coulumb—so if you die there, then I—

I don’t know what happens in that case. You’re me at the moment, and I’m you, so maybe you die also. Or you’re stuck out here in god-space. Craftswomen ask too many questions about the unknowable.

It’s not unknowable. Just unknown.

There came a timeless silence.

Where do I get off, Tara asked.

Wherever I want, she answered herself.

Alt Coulumb?