It lost a lot of momentum by the time it struck any of the people on duty. I remembered talking to Lord of Loss’s men about how his people were recruited. Were these among them?

The ‘ball’ that was my mother was an indestructible projectile. I kept it moving, a prelude to my own arrivals, as I plunged into each group in turn.

At the station housing the more discreet portal to Earth N, they’d noticed. People were running, some had guns and were getting to cover. Others were heading inside.

We only had seconds to get a grip on this. Which meant—

“Hit ’em!”

I kicked the ball hard, full Wretch strength. She flew through the air and collided with the lip of the roof, tearing into it.

In a flash, she was Brandish again. Her one arm swept out, hurling a sphere.

The detonation was small. Bright, with impact but no heat and no fire. There was a ‘whump’ and a shockwave that scattered snow and dust, with multiple people sent sprawling. A second toss, with much the same effect, but it included some of the people who were getting to their feet too quickly, and it sent them tumbling, with some frantic movements to avoid falling off the roof. Not that here was a great chance, given the short lip around the perimeter, dotted with cornices that hid the places where the prefab building had been put together.

The third toss landed in the midst of another group, who scrambled away. She lunged into and past the sphere that hit the ground, catching one guy.

I took my cue, going after the remainder. Two people close enough together that I could land beside them, driving my elbow down into one’s shoulder, grabbing the other by the back of the hood and, pausing as I delivered the elbow-strike, heaved them forward and face-down into the surface of the roof.

To the side, the ‘grenade’ burst into a sputter of bubbles. A fizzle.

Brandish was already twisting around, her weapon across his neck. They sank down, and the weapon followed them, the tip searing into and through the cornice beside the man.

“Radio,” she said. “Walkie talkie? Now!”

He reached for his coat. She beat him to it, reaching inside the open coat, and pulled out the walkie talkie.

“You will tell them it’s a trap. Tell them to freeze, and make them believe it! They are not to call anyone, they aren’t to pass through!”

“I—”

She moved the sword, singing beard-hairs.

“Fuck!” He fumbled for the walkie-talkie. Again, she beat him to it. Making everything fast and fluid as he followed instructions. “Do not go through! Your lives depend on it! Find a safe place and remain where you are! The portals—”

I reached out, covering the mouthpiece. “The portals are unstable.”