She drew a shaky breath and looked into the distance, seeking a long-ago memory.

“There are three ways for the undying ones to enter the mortal world,” she began. “They may take the shadow of an animal or borrow the shadow of a human, or they may make their own shape from matter and illusion. These two ways are temporary, and the undying must eventually return to their formless existence.

“There is a third way. I—I don’t know the third way. It is a way for the undying to become immortal—”

“That makes no sense. Undying means the same thing as immortal,” Miranda interrupted.

“It does not,” Chance said. “We have a limited existence. We are tied to this scroll of space and time like an ant constrained to trace patterns on the same tapestry, always walking the same path in the same manner, never passing the hem. To be truly immortal, one must die, and thus go beyond all boundaries.”

His eyes met his brother’s gaze, and they shared a somber look. That was the theory as they knew it, but what it actually entailed in practice was something neither of them knew.

“An amulet can tie an undying one to a human,” Chance continued. “It takes at least two people to make an amulet—one undying and one mortal, and no other may be made by them thereafter. You would never have been able to make another one like yours, but someone learned enough of the craft of making from you. Who?”

“I know nothing more,” the old woman insisted.

Chance nodded with a spreading fury that lacked a proper target. He stood up and once more set a hand on the chair. “Then back you go.”

She startled him by clutching his hand. “Don’t send me back,” she begged. “To think clearly again, to understand who and what I am—don’t take that away from me. I’m sorry I was careless. Please don’t punish me.”

He shook her off, infuriated by her plea. “Age is not a punishment. It is merely the passage of time, and it is not my duty to prevent it happening.”

“Be still,” murmured the Trickster as she started to cry again. “You won’t remember this. It will cause you no grief. It need cause you no grief now. Be still.”

Miranda got to her feet. Her arms were wrapped around herself in an attempt at self-comfort, and her face was troubled. She bit her lip as if she dared not speak. Chance tried to ignore her, but he could not ignore the sensation of mild shame that filled him when he saw her expression. He nodded to the Trickster, and they went off again to return the old woman to the sunny window, the breezes, and the ever-changing blues of the sea.

—