Fift took a step forward; two steps. The blue body with the startlingly real eyes and ears glanced at zir, then looked back towards Panaximandra.

“True,” Fift said to Vvonda. “That is new information. I thank you for it.”

Baaa-RUMP, ba-chiggity-chiggity-whuppity-chiggity-chiggity-BOOM!

Vvonda snorted. “Sure, kid. Whatever.” There was a hint of uncertainty in vir voice.

Fift slipped into the ring of rent-a-bodies and sat, cross-legged, a pace away from Shria.

“Enjoy your playtime,” Fift said, zir face impassive.

A flash of anger passed over Vvonda’s broad face.

Grobbard’s lips relaxed slightly; zir version of a smile. “So,” ze said. “The Clowns arrive at last, while the ordering parents of the world are still nowhere to be seen.”

Shria opened vir eyes. And, seeing Fift, widened them.

The music was as loud, now, as nearby thunder—

Baaa-RUMP, ba-chiggity-chiggity-whuppity-chiggity-chiggity-BOOM!

BOOM-ba-de-chiggity, BOOM-ba-de-chiggity, BOOM-ba-de-chiggity, BOOM!

—and over the drumming, ze heard the whistling, grinding, tweedling, sweet, discordant music of the pipes:

Hhrang, hrrang, de-da-de hhrang, hhrang woodledy woodledy-de,

Hhrang woodledy woodledy-de, hhrang, hhrang . . .

Shria was bloody and bruised, vir eyes swollen, blood staining vir lips. Ve was trembling.

Fift forced the muscles of zir face to relax. Ze’d had a plan. Ze was going to say, formal and calm, “Greetings, Shria. May I observe?” or something like that. Something to reassure vem that ze wasn’t trying to save vem. Something staidish and grown-up and not ridiculous. And then ze’d just sit in the middle of the riot as if it were the Long Conversation, and ve’d forgive zir.

But that plan was ruined, because it was too loud for Shria to hear zir. Ze wanted to send vem another note, but it might not go through, and ze didn’t want to stop and compose it now, not with vem watching zir expression with blank intensity. Ze nodded at vem, trying to show vem: I won’t interfere anymore. I am here for you, but I will let you do this thing you have to do, whatever it is. I trust you, Shria.

Fift saw flickers of color and movement from beyond the press of rent-a-bodies. Ze checked the feed, and, yes, a few more views of the byway were now flickering in . . . and there they were, in lines of marchers fifty bodies wide: the Clowns.

Chapter 9

9

The first line of Clowns had enormous bulbous heads and ball-like eyes the size of small canids, each eye reflecting in funhouse distortion a different world that wasn’t there: gas giants, fancily decorated house interiors, beaches, battle scenes; each alive and correlated with the waving of the distorted heads. The line of them, Vails and Staids intermingled, spread across the whole breadth of the byway. They had great peaked noses, great rubbery lips, and small round bellies supporting metal drums. And on these, the clawed hands of the Clowns beat with long, long bones:

Baaa-RUMP, ba-chiggity-chiggity-whuppity-chiggity-chiggity-BOOM!