Chance could not think to decide where to go; he was far too occupied in keeping the barrier intact. Once he had bragged about not working with subordinates, but now he wished with all his will that he had someone to call on, someone besides his brother. To give him credit, the Trickster was fully present and putting all his effort into holding the shield, but even that might not be enough. Neither dared to unravel himself long enough to attack, and defense was a waiting game that they could not win. Part of him, a very small part that was not engaged in the struggle, felt angry and ashamed that he had brought Miranda into this after all his promises that nothing could hurt her. He wondered whether Uriel knew what was happening and, if they did, whether they would intervene. It was not something to count on, for being a passive guard in an undying made-world was different from participating in a real-world fight. Interference was not a thing the angels undertook lightly.

Fortunately, the Trickster thought faster. “Patience,” he shouted. “Patience!”

The hurricane stopped. The two brothers did not move at first, too stunned by the sudden calm to relax. The only sound was Miranda’s panicked, panting gasps, the sound of a claustrophobic in the middle of her worst nightmare. Chance and the Trickster untangled from each other and reassembled in human guises on either side of Miranda. She lay curled like a child on the floor. A woman with silver hair came forward to comfort her with a gentle hand on her shoulder and a low hum of words.

I wish you two would pay attention when I tell you things, she said to Chance and the Trickster, but that was spoken in silence so that the soothing murmurs to Miranda could continue without interruption.

“How can we when you don’t tell us everything?” the Trickster replied, annoyed that he had been the one to break and call on her.

Chance said nothing. He was too relieved to be troubled by such mild chastisement. He looked around instead to reassure himself that they were safe. They were in an open space with a ceiling invisibly lost in ever-increasing light and a horizon that continued to extend the longer he looked at it. The floor was mundane earth, smooth and close-packed like a lake bed that had slowly dried out and weathered under a gentle breeze. Somehow, in spite of the vastness, when he stopped trying to guess at the boundaries and looked toward the center again, he felt the comfortable closeness of a small room surrounding him.