A bopperstaff swung: Honti Pikipo of name registry Nameless Desert 3 collapsed. Ve’d been holding Bojum’s hand. Bojum yanked vir body outwards so it fell away from the sitting Staids; then ve reached across the gap, taking the hand of the next Vail, closing the circle. “Hold your ground,” ve said.

Another Vail fell, on the other side of the circle. But some of the Peaceables were holding back, glancing at one another. A twitch at the temple of one, the lips of another, betrayed what must be a furious conversation over the send.

“What—what is a stone?” Emim said. “Iyebi said, ‘this stone in which we dig our burrows.’ For the world is a stone in flight.”

Fift’s eyebrows rose. That was deft, even beautiful. Despite the thundering of zir heart, despite the rough saw of despair tearing through zir abdomen, Fift found ze was curious where Emim was going with this. It didn’t seem likely they’d have time to find out.

Two more Vails fell, one of them crumpling against Morinti’s shoulder. Morinti kept zir eyes on Fift.

The world is a stone in flight. Minth’s heart was a stone, after ze lost Abador. But what is a stone? The world is a stone in flight.

“And if the world is a stone,” Fift said, “then a heart may be a world.”

Another Vail fell. Now the gap was too big for the other Vails to reach across; they stood, a ragged semicircle, eyes out, shoulders square.

A Peaceable stepped into the gap, raising zir bopperstaff. Ze hesitated, zir staff above Morinti’s head.

“Elsewhere,” Morinti said, hoarsely, “we are told of a concavity in a stone, which Esro inhabited . . .”

{Apologies are extended for the delay in acquiring consensus.} Fift’s context advisory agent sent. {Unfortunately, your social nuance, feed-navigation, send-management, and diachronic-synthetic agents are no longer available for service. But the remainder of your agents have elected to support your current course, and to acknowledge your de facto majority.}

{Can you show me Shria?} Fift sent.

The Peaceable stood above Morinti. The tip of zir bopperstaff wavered, and ze glanced behind zir—

Shria, doublebodied, vir heads and shoulders out of the stoppergoo. Ve was alert, vir face intense, leaning over towards Stogma, saying something—

“. . . in, in the days,” Morinti said, “when Marolu the Lesser gathered consensus in Unprism.”

{And Dobroc?}

Dobroc was in a crowd, marching. There were banners there, and singing. Staids in white robes, and Vails in velvet and tinsel . . .

A second Peaceable shoved the first roughly aside—zir face was a mask of rage—and clubbed Morinti.

Ellix frowned. “Ze shouldn’t have done that,” ze said.

Morinti slumped. Emim’s eyes widened in terror. Episti swallowed.

“Ze’s vowed,” Ellix said, a frown buckling zir forehead, bunching zir mouth. “Ze shouldn’t have struck in anger.”