Ash raised his head. Orley could never stand against Lot.

And the time, the time, the time. Suddenly there was so little time.

I will have to go myself.

It may be a trap.

How has he done this, my enemy? How has he raised all these forces and disposed them all across all the paths?

They are all against me.

I must defeat them all.

But doubt was now nagging him; the doubt of embodiment, of entanglement. He could no longer see anything of the future; had trouble remembering the pitfalls he’d seen from the aethereal.

How did Lot escape me? Why are his slaves so loyal?

One part of his many compartmented selves was moving the main army along the north bank of the Cohocton while another directed foragers and a third prepared workings in the aethereal. Too many of his compartments were brooding; counting casualties, trying to understand how many foes there were, from too little information.

I will retake the well and kill Lot.

At some point I will face the will.

Then I will turn and take the gate.

But even that was a complicated future; the ally he’d made and the deal for control of the gate were both gone. He no longer knew what stood on the other side of the gate—friend, or foe.

One of his many busy, planning selves offered a suggestion—of plain treason.

Ally with Lot.

In the physical world, his whole frame shuddered with revulsion.

Never! he screamed.

But the idea was still there.

Arles—The Red Knight

Gabriel had ordered a grand review, but when he awoke the next morning to the sound of his wife retching in a basin, he had doubts. He wondered if it was a waste of time, and his waking thought was to cancel the damned thing. Everything seemed to accelerate toward the moment that the gates were open; everything seemed to be fluid.

Blanche finished her morning sickness and collapsed on the bed with a groan.

Master Nicodemus, with his usual perfect timing, appeared at the door with a cup of something that smelled like happiness; apples and cinnamon and peppermint and honey and lemons. The smell filled the inside of their closed bed hangings.

“Oh, you are wonderful,” Blanche said, and Master Nicodemus closed the bed hangings and she drank. “Oh . . .” She sat up.

Gabriel smiled.

“It’s not funny,” she said. “Not even a little bit.”

Gabriel did his best to keep his face smooth.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “If it’s tomorrow, then I will never lie beside you again. I don’t want to be pregnant. I don’t want to feel this bad. I don’t want you to remember me throwing up into a basin.”

Gabriel lay back and looked at her.