"This sword… you only see an aspect of it. The warrior who once used it and the people it killed, millennia ago, wouldn’t recognize the weapon I carry. When the Ghosthead ruled, they used possibility in architecture, in medicine, in politics and performance and all other spheres. Possible Sonatas, the ghost-notes winking out of existence in echoes above and around the fact-score, changing with every performance. I have been inside the ruins of a Possible Tower…" He shook his head slowly. "That is a sight you do not forget.

"They used the science in fighting, in sport and war. There are passages in the Covertiana describing a bout between Possible Wrestlers, a shifting multitude of limbs flickering in and out of existence with every moment, nigh grappling nigh grappling fact grappling nigh again.

"But all of this, the technique of the mining, was a product of the Ghosthead’s arrival-the detonation of their landing. It was through the rent they left that the possibility seams were tapped. That wound," he said, his eyes flickering over to Bellis and away, and back again, "that scar, left by the Ghosthead… that’s where the seam is. If the stories are true, it’s on the far side of the world, at the end of the Empty Ocean.

"No ship’s ever crossed that sea. The waters there… they militate against ships. And who’d want to go there? If it exists, it’s thousands of miles away. And there are stories of what lives in the Fractured Land: terrible things, a dreadful ecology. Lightfungus. Dreadcurs. Butterflies with unholy appetites. Even if we could," he said with strong sincerity, "I’d not want to try to reach the Fractured Land."

He was staring at Bellis and, under the superb modulations of his voice she sensed a tremulous feeling. She swallowed, trying to concentrate. This is important, now, she told herself. Listen, make sense of this. I don’t know why, but he’s telling me something, he’s letting me know-

And then-

oh good gods above, can that be what he I don’t, Is that possible, that he, surely, have I, have I misunderstood?

Is that what he means?

Her face was set, and she realized she was staring at him, and he her, both mute, staring through the gloom.

Certainly, she thought, giddy, what boat could make it over the ocean to the Fractured Land? Who’d want to go to the Fractured Land? The Land’s not worth it. It’s too far, too dangerous, even for this. Even for this . But what was it he told me, what did they say, how did it go…?

"We have scarred this world, wounded it, made our mark on its remote land… and stretching for thousands of leagues across its sea."