Niko and Danil both approached the Mermaid to carry her over the sand to the other shore. They paused and looked at each other with hesitation, challenge, and hurt, but the Mermaid simply lowered her head and held out her hands to both of them. Her arms went around their necks, and their arms went around her back, one above the other in truce for the few steps to the waterline. They put her in the water gently, and she quickly pushed off with her hands and swam away. With one quick farewell glance to Chance, they too waded in and let the water take them. Xandre looked over his shoulder once and followed, and Galina went last, stepping carefully in with the bundle held safe against her heart.

The sky was as clear as the water and the completing curve of the ring reef girdled the lagoon well before the horizon’s bounds, and yet the six faded from sight like dreams, shades, and memories.

Julian started forward. Chance let his hand fall heavy on the man’s shoulder. “Not you.”

“B-but I have to finish it,” he stuttered.

Chance gave him a long, steady look. “Finish what?”

For a moment Julian forgot his fear and disorientation. “There’s a logic to this. It’s from a lovely little ritual from Vyerland concerning a list of special gifts for life rituals. A blanket at birth. A belt and breeches when a boy becomes a man. Guild bands on the wrists mark your apprenticeship; boots are made for the first journey. A heart-shaped pendant is a first-love token; a wife is given a carrying sling for her firstborn. And finally an ivy wreath crowns your corpse when you’re dead.”

A coldness grew and spread as he spoke; the waves hushed, the sun dimmed, the sands changed once more to desert and the skies to night and starlight. Chance let go of his labyrinth and its dear echoes as he listened to the other man relate his bungled attempts at pattern-weaving. When Julian’s words ran out, he stood staring hopefully, peering through the faint dawn light glowing like distant fire on the edge of the eastern horizon.

“Elegant,” Chance said, breaking the deep, dreadful silence. “Mere body parts have no meaning, but work, passion, love, and loss—those mean a great deal. How powerful to take a dancer’s feet, a thief’s hands, a lover’s manhood, a husband’s heart, a mother’s womb, and a child’s skin. How appropriate to build a life rather than a mere body. A well-crafted ritual, if accidental, and now you want to finish it. How?”