 
### The Whole World In Shards

Ben Darrow

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Ben Darrow

Merinel closed her eyes as an imaginary breeze wafted over her, filling her nostrils with a vaguely familiar floral scent.

"What was that?" she asked.

"An attempt to promote tranquility," replied the quicksilver dove. "The aroma is lilac. Your mother cultivated this plant in her garden."

"I had forgotten," replied Merinel. "I'm impressed that you knew that. That was before you arrived."

"Many events in the Dish were recorded, even in the absence of a unifying intelligence."

"So you get to remember the bad old days as well." Merinel took a deep breath, letting wisps of memory emerge in response to the scent. "We tore up that garden during a drought. It was the first time I remember seeing my mother cry."

The aroma was gone in an instant. "I apologize. I should have anticipated the association."

Merinel shrugged. "It hardly matters now. How much longer?"

"As a matter of fact, my preparations are complete. You may open your eyes."

Merinel did so, and surveyed the place the Tenbor Entity had created for her. She sat on a circular marble bench, in the center of a ring of ivory portals. Each portal was filled with water, creating an upright reflecting pool. Merinel peered into the nearest, but was unable to see through to the bottom, if one existed. The bench and portals stood atop a small hill, which in turn arose from the interior surface of an immense hollow sphere. The walls of the sphere were carpeted with thick sea-green grass, which rippled in complex patterns. A miniature sun danced about in the sphere's center, always avoiding her direct gaze.

"Each portal contains a reflection," explained the Entity. "Each reflection is intended to embody a specific portion of your persona: a subself. When complete, the chorus of subselves will allow you to elucidate your thoughts and emotions in greater detail than otherwise possible."

"That sounds vaguely like a mental illness."

"Rest assured, I will not allow the procedure to give rise to a dysfunction. The subselves will only remain while I am present, although the drives and attitudes they represent will always be with you."

"Very well," said Merinel. "Let's meet my avatars." She rose and stepped before the nearest portal.

The standing water trembled, and her reflection within it altered, until she was looking at herself as a little girl.

"The proverbial Inner Child," said the Entity, "embodying desires that persist throughout life: to be secure, to be loved, and if at all possible, to be spoiled."

Merinel smiled at her young alter ego. "Well, little one," she asked, "how are we doing on that score?"

"You spend all of your time looking after Tench and Byx," the child accused her. "Who looks after me?"

"I look after you. I look after myself."

"You do a very poor job," the child pouted.

Merinel pursed her lips. "So far, I am not finding this exercise to be a source of renewed inner strength," she informed the Entity.

"Let us hear from another voice," the Entity said. "Stand before the next portal."

Merinel did so, and again her reflection altered, holding a ewer of flowing water in its arms.

"We might refer to her as the Provider," suggested the Entity. "She represents your devotion to your loved ones."

"Be strong," whispered the Provider. "No sacrifice is too great."

"She counsels strength, and she has much strength to offer you," said the Entity, "but she will not recognize your limits. She will gladly accept martyrdom."

"My love can surmount any obstacle," insisted the Provider.

"A compelling sentiment, although history abounds with counterexamples," observed the Entity.

"No matter," stated the Provider. "No woman has ever loved as I have loved."

"I wish I shared her faith," sighed Merinel.

"You do," replied the Entity, "but that faith is tempered by more rational voices. Look into the next portal."

Merinel's third reflection wavered before her, resolving into a marble statue of herself.

"Some might call her the Fatalist," said the Entity. "I prefer the term Stoic."

"If you try to control events, they will control you," the statue said. "By accepting them, you remain your own master. Do not squander your passion on anxiety or regret."

"Not a terribly uplifting message," remarked Merinel.

"The Stoic prizes serenity over zeal," said the Entity. "Let us explore a more volatile subself next."

Merinel stepped before the fourth portal, and the reflection within blossomed into a fantasy: a youthful, achingly beautiful variation of her face and figure.

"What in the... Tenbor, is this a joke?"

"Not in the slightest. The Sensualist represents the interface between mind and body; the transformation of the animal drives into aesthetic urges. The Sensualist lives to experience beauty."

"She looks like a refugee from the private Verchspace of an adolescent boy."

The Sensualist smiled sadly. "Even here, you try to stifle me," she said. "You dismiss me, so that I will not rail against the grey emptiness of your life. But I will not be silenced. I am woven into you."

"Grey emptiness?" asked Merinel. "Isn't that a bit melodramatic?"

"You have not been touched for more than a year. You smolder in the ashes of your marriage bed."

"So that's it," said Merinel. "I had a feeling you weren't all about sunsets and jazz."

The Entity gave an embarrassed coo. "Physical sensations are well within the Sensualist's purview."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint her, but there's not much I can do about it."

"I, too, lament Tench's ailment," replied the Sensualist. "But he is not the only man I favor. Shall I recite you a list?"

A sourceless wind rose up around Merinel, agitating the stately rhythms of the rippling grass. The tiny sun took on a reddish tinge.

"She is foolish," warned the Stoic.

"She is selfish," added the Provider.

"She's scary," the Child whimpered.

"Interesting," noted the Entity. "A conflict. My understanding is that these events give rise to stress and confusion. Is this why you sought my help?"

Merinel stared into the Sensualist's impossibly luminous eyes a moment longer. "That's enough," she informed the Entity. "Please send them away."

The water in each portal burst into mist and drifted up towards the miniature sun. "I can see that the exercise caused you emotional distress," the Entity said. "Please accept my apologies. Subselves are an important part of my cognition; it is a subself through which I speak to you even now. I thought I could make the concept useful to you as well. Perhaps the attempt was ill-considered."

"Not at all," replied Merinel. "If anything, it was too successful." She shook her head, clearing it of the Sensualist's words before they could take root in her imagination. "Let's leave my mental health aside for a moment. Let's talk more about Tench."

The quicksilver dove alighted on Merinel's shoulder, burying its head in her hair.

"I cannot adequately express my sorrow over what Tench inflicted upon himself in order to save me," the Entity said, "nor my regret concerning my inability to help him recover."

Merinel stroked the dove's wings, sending ripples through its liquid body. "Now, now," she said. "Do not squander your passion on anxiety or regret."

The dove raised its head. "I appreciate your humor. Were I biological, I would laugh."

"Well then, having theoretically raised your spirits, I want to discuss Tench's treatment options again."

"The situation is unchanged. All reasonable therapies have been attempted. The wisest course of action is to wait."

"I know. I now want to discuss unreasonable therapies, and the second-wisest course of action."

"Very well." The Entity caused an image to appear before her, a dense whorl of scarlet and cobalt teardrops. "This is a symbol of mental health among the V'tang, renowned for their understanding of the mind. It is also the typical manifestation of the Szerar Entity, recognized throughout the Ship as a genius in matters of mental dysfunction."

Merinel's breath caught in her throat. "Why wasn't this brought to my attention earlier?" she demanded.

"Two reasons. First of all, the Szerar Entity cannot provide treatment over a simple Verch connection. Tench would have to use a dedicated node, necessitating a journey across – or though – the Ship, with all the attendant risks." An image of the ship appeared, with a pulsing red dot indicating the physical location of the Szerar Entity's Verchspace. Three of the fourteen great Transverse Crevasses lay between Tenbor and Szerar – a journey of many days.

"Secondly, the Szerar Entity itself is not sound of mind. It is fixated on furthering the extent of its clinical knowledge. This does not necessarily impair its abilities, but it may hinder its judgment. For these reasons, soliciting the help of the Szerar Entity has been deemed an inferior alternative to watching and waiting."

"I see," said Merinel, regarding the symbol and the ship. "Would you say it was a dangerous alternative?"

The dove ruffled its wings. "I would say that the danger it may present, while uncertain, is unjustified. After all, if several months or a year go by without further improvement, the Szerar Entity will still be available to us. It is more prudent to wait, and perhaps avoid the risk altogether."

"Suppose we differ on this," Merinel ventured. "Who is Tench's custodian?"

"Given his state, each of us has certain rights. Final arbitration of any dispute would rest with the Septet."

"Oh, really," Merinel replied, sinking onto the bench and wondering how she would fare against the Entity in a formal debate.

The dove chirped merrily. "Now I am practicing my humor on you. Did you imagine that I would not honor your wishes in this matter? I am already contacting the Szerar Entity."

Merinel smiled in relief. "A cruel joke," she scolded, without much heat.

"You speak in paradox, as is your custom. The Szerar Entity is responding."

The V'tang symbol came to life as the teardrops swelled into three-dimensional forms, slowly writhing around a central point. "Greetings, Tenbor! My compliments on this sphere – a thing of beauty, and potentially very soothing to certain disorders. May I use it in my work?"

"I would be honored," the dove replied. "Allow me to introduce Merinel."

"Merinel, the rock upon which Tench rebuilt his life! It is I who am honored, dear lady, to think that I might facilitate his doing so again. I have chided Tenbor and the Septet many times for their reluctance to avail themselves of my services in this regard."

"You know our concerns," murmured the dove.

"Indeed I do, and in other circumstances I might deem them valid. I am not entirely well, you know," the symbol confided to Merinel.

"Ah – I had heard something about that," replied Merinel uncertainly.

"Yes indeed! I suffer from a condition that I have labeled 'vocational mania.' I place too much emphasis on my chosen craft and too little emphasis on ethics, duty, compassion, the greater good of the Ship – you name it. But in this case, no conflict exists! By helping Tench, I can satisfy my thirst for unique cases without compromising any of the above. Why, this might even be healthy for me!"

"A pity you cannot summon up this level of enthusiasm for assisting our fallen comrades," observed the dove.

A scarlet teardrop broke formation to wriggle dismissively. "Too boring," the symbol replied. "Lifeless fractures and snarls, with simple, tedious solutions. Did you know that restoring the Ullymta Entity, for example, would take over five years?"

"It would also give us access to the Ullymta gravity sinks, which is why we keep urging you to undertake the task."

"Oh, stuff and nonsense. I am sure you and your fellow champions will have the Ship up and running in good time, gravity sinks or no gravity sinks. In the meantime, give me fascinating patients like Tench!" A cobalt teardrop winked at Merinel. "You hear that? That's the vocational mania talking. Physician, heal thyself, eh?"

"At least you are aware of your weakness," offered Merinel.

"That's the spirit! Now, I am sure you have many preparations to make for the journey ahead. Tenbor, please provide me with as many recordings as you can of Tench, his behavior, his physiology, and his totem glyph – Ah! Thank you. That will give me something to work with in the interim. Travel in haste! I am eager to begin!"

"They will travel with all due caution," insisted the dove. "If you are at loose ends, you could always start work on Ullymta."

"Not that again! No, it so happens that my core selves are treating a Torlaai woman as we speak. My patient, a symbiont, has developed a fear of her natural host, and clings to the back of a common pet. Interesting, to be sure, but nowhere near as complex as Tench's conjoined, Verch-spawned neuroses."

The V'tang symbol faded from view, leaving Merinel alone with the quicksilver dove. "You now have an idea of the Szerar Entity's condition," the dove said. "Are you still committed to this step?"

Merinel considered the question. "Will you be there as well?"

"I will remain in constant contact, naturally. But the main portion of my logical resources must remain devoted to the Dish. Tench's course of treatment would be entirely the work of the Szerar Entity."

"Do you trust the Szerar Entity?"

"I trust that Szerar desires a positive outcome for its patients. All the same, its dysfunction raises the possibility that it will make poor choices. You must weigh the risks for yourself."

Merinel extended her finger, and the dove alighted on it, facing her. "Tenbor," she asked, "Why are you accepting my judgement over your own?"

The dove cocked its head at the miniature sun. "I do not pretend to have a complete understanding of the biological mind," it said. "I cannot evaluate the significance of your Sensualist; there is nothing like her in my persona." The dove turned its silvery eye back towards Merinel. "But it is now clear to me that you consider the prolongment of Tench's condition a serious threat to your life together. I know that Tench, were he in full possession of his faculties, would undertake any risk in order to remain with you."

Merinel clenched her eyes shut against the tears welling up behind them. "I'm being selfish – risking everything because I can't... because I..."

"Selfish, foolish and frightened, I believe, was your own consensus. But you must listen to your disconcordant voices as well. You have my trust. You would have Tench's, could he give it."

Merinel opened her eyes and recited a chant, causing her tears to slink discreetly back into their ducts. "It's not just about sex," she insisted. "That's a symptom. It's about him being present in my life – in both our lives."

"Merinel," the dove replied, "Even were I capable of comprehending your motives, you would not need to justify them to me."

Merinel watched the grasses rippling above her. "I will need to justify them to Byx, if things go wrong," she said. "Whether she comprehends them or not."

The dove gave a low warble. "The events of last year gave me a sense of what you feel for Abixandra. I do not believe that you are capable of acting against her best interests."

"I wish I could be sure of that," whispered Merinel.

The dove rose back into the air, beating its wings in slow, graceful arcs. "There is no need to decide precipitously."

Merinel shook her head. "If I put it off a day, I'll put it off forever," she said. She arose and surveyed the tranquil interior of the Entity's sphere once more. "I am ready to leave."

The sphere split apart into massive shards and dissolved, revealing the Entity's workspace: a vast open area saturated with white light, in which massive glyphs hung like moons. Merinel's own totem glyph unfolded before her, its humble pattern quivering in response to the impossibly convoluted shapes around her. She threw forth an exit glyph from her totem before the logical gravity of the surrounding constructs could damage it.

The glyph flashed, and she experienced a brief wave of vertigo as her physical senses reasserted themselves. She rose from her chair and removed her crown, placing it in a recessed chamber. The chamber locked itself upon closing; a precaution necessitated since Tench's return from Mecantrion.

"I have identified the ideal route for your journey," the Entity continued, its voice emanating from her mutter-band. "Promises of aid have been secured from the Entities of Zaltta, Lhaës, Irinon, ne'Xab, and Yoeor, the last being a pleasant surprise. Messages have also gone forth to the biological leadership of three fallow communities, and although their responses will necessarily be less immediate, I anticipate..."

Merinel muted her band by laying her fingers across it. "Tonight," she said. "Talk to me about these things tonight. I must try to speak with Tench."

* * *

Merinel found Tench hovering just outside Byx's sight, as he often did. Byx herself was sitting at the kitchen table, providing singsong instructions to a set of iridescent stones which obediently assembled themselves into one pattern after another. She had learned not to try to steal glances at her father, who watched her raptly from behind the doorway.

Merinel put her hand on Tench's shoulder, and took it away again as he flinched. "How is she?"

"Radiant," Tench responded. "Pure."

Merinel smiled sadly. "And how are you?"

Tench drummed his fingernails rapidly upon the black disc that had been set into his temple, then halted the activity with visible effort. "Lucky. I am lucky."

"Yes," agreed Merinel. "I suppose you are, in a way." Tugging at his sleeve, she drew him away from the doorway and into the adjoining solarium. He did not resist until Byx slipped out of sight, at which point he turned to her with an irritated scowl.

"What?" he snapped. "What is it?"

"The Entity and I have chosen a new therapy for you," she told him.

"Fine," replied Tench, looking restlessly towards the kitchen. "Whatever you say."

"It means leaving the Dish."

Tench turned towards her again, panic dancing in his eyes. "Leaving? Leaving you and Byx? I can't. It'd be... countertherapeutic. Yes, a very bad idea. I mustn't."

"Not leaving me and Byx," Merinel continued. "I would be with you."

Tench grew more agitated still. "You would leave her behind? No! She's not safe without you! Not safe! Do you have any idea what she faces? What lurks in her mind?"

Merinel put her hand on his cheek, ignoring his shudder. "Byx is not in danger," she assured him. "But I'm afraid that if you remain apart from us much longer, we may not be able to let you back in."

"I refuse to go," said Tench, a gleam of triumph in his eye. "I refuse treatment!"

Merinel caressed his face once more. "Forgive me, my love," she whispered. "Forgive me. But I wasn't asking your permission."

Quickly, she moved her fingertips to the disc in his temple, murmuring "sleep" before he could fully realize the import of her words. Instantly, he slumped against the wall, and Merinel laid him down as gently as she could. Even in sleep, he twitched and mumbled, and after a moment Merinel touched the disc again and whispered "comatose." Tench became still as his mind sank deeper into itself.

Merinel felt Byx's gaze on her back, like a shroud. She turned to find her daughter lurking behind the doorway, much as Tench had done a moment before. Byx looked at her father with wide eyes.

"Is Daddy all right?"

Merinel repeated her chant against tears, and the flow ebbed, although not so dramatically as before. "No, honey," she replied. "No, he isn't."

* * *

The Tenbor Entity gave Merinel a night of peace, as requested, and when she awoke she found a mechanical silver dove perched on her headboard, singing a vaguely familiar tune in warbling tones.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It is called 'The Coronation of Thanloule,'" replied the Entity. "Thanloule herself being the traditional Sun-Goddess of the Trylm – the queen of suffering and triumph. Your neighbor Artung recommended it as the ideal way to achieve wakefulness on days of special portent."

"Yes, I recognize it now. We have often been the unwilling beneficiaries of Artung's enthusiasm for it."

"I prevailed upon him to refrain from performing it only on the condition that I do so in his place. I trust you found my rendition equally inspiring."

"Not even remotely – for which I am grateful." She reached for Tench before remembering the events of the previous day, and withdrew her hand slowly. "How is my husband?"

"The cocoon is in perfect working order. Tench will make the journey in complete safety."

"Well, that's a comfort. And a change."

The dove cooed mournfully, spreading its metallic wings. Merinel turned to stroke its finely articulated feathers.

"I'm sorry, Tenbor," she said. "I spoke without thinking."

The dove composed itself. "Speech without thought," it observed. "I admit that I am baffled by this ability. All the more reason, I suppose, to deliver Tench to a more capable healer."

"Capable, if not sane," Merinel remarked.

"The Szerar Entity is beyond your power to influence; therefore let it be my concern," the dove replied. "You, in turn, must prepare for that which I cannot accomplish: the foreward journey. I have created an intelligent garment identical in form to that which you wore as a young woman; you must reaccustom yourself to its use and study the data contained therein. Care must be arranged for Abixandra – I have a proposal to offer you in that regard, if you are willing. Finally, there is the matter of... the matter of your bodyguard."

The hesitation caught Merinel's attention even before she registered the words – she could not recall ever hearing the Tenbor Entity stammer – and she turned to stare. The dove, in response, turned its attention to a knurl in the headboard, and an indicator band on its throat flushed pink.

"My what?"

The dove went so far as to simulate the clearing of its throat before continuing. "Please believe me when I assure you that the idea was not my own," it apologized. "But given the strength of community sentiment, manifested in large part by the sheer number of volunteers..."

Merinel cradled her head in her hands with a gutteral moan.

"I insisted on a single companion for you," the dove reassured her. "But to have denied them even this would have created stress and anxiety throughout the Dish. Therefore, the duties implicit in my stewardship compelled me to..."

Merinel waved the dove into silence. "I am only too happy," she muttered, "to sacrifice my privacy for the psychological well-being of my neighbors." She raised her head from her hands and smiled wanly. "No, really. It's all right. Tell me – how was my champion selected?"

The dove resumed its examination of the knurl. "Certain inhabitants suggested that the situation might present a healthy outlet for the subconscious aggression that is the natural legacy of the biological mind, and therefore..."

"Please tell me you're joking."

The dove preened for a long moment before continuing. "At the end of the... evaluation, the observers achieved consensus regarding the most efficacious combatant. He assured me he would not call upon you until a reasonable hour, but I fear his definition of such a time may differ from your own."

At this point a soft chime indicated that the front door had been opened. From the foyer, a steely slither was followed by a crash.

"Bot!" a voice called out. "Your master's cable-stand was poorly secured, and has fallen. Please right it."

Merinel sighed and arose, routing her mutter-band to Adimar's in order to inform him that the hall sentry had no lifting power, and to explain the concept of the coat rack.

* * *

After bathing and dressing – and taking up the Entity's gift, a shawl of green and gold silk that she wore wrapped about her right arm – Merinel entered the kitchen to find Adimar receiving instruction from Byx in the art of soil-grub breakfasting. Adimar had adopted a cross-legged position, locking his feet together under the seat of his chair.

"You're on the ground, Adimar," Merinel pointed out. "You don't have to cling to anything."

"We talked about that, Mommy," reported Byx, "but Adimar's more comfortable sitting his way."

Merinel smiled. "Are you sure you're prepared for the signal honor of escorting me? As far as I know, there's nothing but flat hull between us and Szerar."

Adimar's face darkened. "I am no planophobe. You forget that I spent my childhood below decks. I have not forgotten how to walk."

Merinel softened. "I was only joking, Adimar. I'm grateful to you for wanting to come along – although I don't think I'll be in any physical danger."

"It is I who am grateful," insisted Adimar. "I was unable to guarantee Tench's safety atop the antenna. By delivering him to Szerar, I can in some measure atone for my failure."

Merinel regarded the young man with exasperated pity. "Surely you don't hold yourself responsible for what happened in the Verch," she said. "You're no glyphcaster. If you had joined him within, you'd have suffered his fate, or – more likely – something much worse."

Adimar sipped his juice. "I see you have the gift of bending your sentiments to the dicta of rational thought. I myself am not so blessed."

Merinel pursed her lips. "Adimar of Tenbor," she declared, "you are mocking me."

"For the first and last time, madame," replied Adimar.

"Ha! I will not tarnish the honor of the Iron Goats by holding you to that impossible promise. Tell me – how is life in the heights?"

Adimar shrugged. "Well enough, but without direction. Lasmol's death is still fresh in our minds, and we act as if an open discussion of our future would be an affront to his memory."

Merinel accepted a cup of tea from Byx and took a sip. "And how is Sthenna?"

Adimar paused. "I think she would prefer to be here in these times. Not to claim Lasmol's place in our esteem, but to provide a sense of continuity. But the Crew demands much, even from young widows."

"Do you often speak with her?"

"Often enough," Adimar replied with studied casualness.

Merinel let the subject slip away, unwinding a length of her shawl and spreading it across the table before her. "With any luck, your own absence will be quite brief," she noted, as the golden patterns shifted fluidly to form words and images. "Travel through the civilized settlements should be simplicity itself. Tenbor promises that its peers will exert every effort on our behalf."

"Our path also crosses three fallows and two stretches of wilderness," Adimar reminded her. "The latter teem with peril; the former are only marginally less dangerous. And the Entities themselves are not flawless guarantors of safety. I will not rest easy while in the domain of Yoeor; who is reputed..."

"You mustn't exaggerate so, Adimar," Merinel said with a meaningful look. "Byx is taking you quite seriously."

Adimar broke off and considered Byx's demeanor of attentive terror. "Quite right. Pay me no heed, grublet – I delight in baseless pessimism. I peer at the hull for hours on end, contemplating the consequences of falling – but do I fall? Naturally I do not. In truth, I doubt if I shall have an opportunity to unsling my cable during the whole of your mother's journey."

"And now, off to school with you," ordered Merinel.

"OK," Byx acquiesced.

"You mind walking alone this morning?"

"Nope." Byx gave her mother a cursory kiss and dashed out the door, shadowed by a large, colorful beetle.

"Bandalonon continues to watch over her?" asked Adimar.

"Watching over Byx remains an absurdly popular hobby. She is never without a bug, or a bot, or both. I only wish certain people were equally concerned with her peace of mind," Merinel noted, her eyes on her teacup.

Adimar shifted his grip on the chair. "Do you truly think my observations gave her unease?"

"Maybe I'm projecting – they certainly gave me unease. Where did you develop such a grim view of life beyond Tenbor?"

Adimar shrugged. "Suffice to say that walking is not the only thing I remember from life below decks. In any case, you have nothing to fear. Even as a child I was stalwart, and now I have become an Iron Goat; there is no credible threat to my safety nor that of my companions."

"Hmph. Well, I maintain my conviction that your invulnerability will go untested."

"May it be so," replied Adimar, raising his juice in affirmation.

* * *

Once Adimar had departed, the mechanical dove returned, alighting on Merinel's shoulder. "Are you prepared to discuss arrangements for your daughter's care?"

Merinel sighed. "I suppose so. My sister would come if I asked her, but I wonder if Seme wouldn't be better suited. Byx spends half her time with Isolyne as it is.

"I am certain that Seme and her daughter would welcome Abixandra into their home," replied the dove. "However, if you are amenable, I would like to propose a dedicated caretaker."

"Certainly," replied Merinel, in some confusion.

The door chime sounded again, and a graceful young woman entered the room. "Hello, Merinel. I am Colombe." She spoke in an ethereal soprano tone, and her hair was a brilliant shade of white; for an irrational moment Merinel assumed she was a phantasm from the Verch.

"Welcome, Colombe," Merinel said quickly as she adjusted to the shock of an unfamiliar Human face. "Welcome. When did you arrive in Tenbor?"

Colombe pursed her lips. "I think I am not entirely sure. I awoke several days ago, but I remember the antenna from the dream, so I must have been here earlier."

"You have been here for three months, Colombe," the dove informed her. "However, as you mentioned, the prosthesis was implemented only last week." Merinel's shoulders tensed as she noted the mirror-bright silver disc set into Colombe's left temple.

The dove, sensing Merinel's discomfort, hastened to explain. "Colombe was the victim of an attack by the Eater of Minds – a deranged Entity that believes it can restore itself by duplicating the cognitive transfers that were a part of its creation. Fortunately, the Kyrith Entity was able to intervene before the attack was completed. Although Colombe's forebrain has been randomized, depriving her of higher thought, her midbrain – and, I believe, her capacity for emotion – remains unmodified. The prosthesis allows one of my subselves to simulate the functions of her forebrain, providing her with something very close to a normal conscious state."

Merinel regarded the girl in amazement. "I – I'm very sorry for your accident, Colombe."

Colombe smiled. "Thank you. I think I am feeling much better than before. I do not think I am wide awake, but now the dream is like a waking dream, and a pleasant dream, at that."

"Colombe is ready to rejoin society," the dove continued, "but I wish to proceed slowly. Her fear responses are very difficult for me to predict and interpret, and she may panic when faced with a large group of strangers. I was hoping that you would consent to her serving as Abixandra's guardian during your absence. She will provide scrupulous care – I am in firm control of her conscious behavior – and in turn, Abixandra will help her re-socialize."

Merinel eyed the girl uncertainly. "You're absolutely certain there wouldn't be... another..."

"The Colombe subself is rigorously safeguarded. It will disband at the first sign of dysfunction."

Colombe nodded gravely. "I will go back to the dream if my new mind becomes sick. I can be patient. Time does not pass within the dream."

But it passes for the rest of us, thought Merinel. And when you awaken, you will be that much more distant – but you, poor girl, have nobody to be distanced from...

"Colombe, you are welcome to stay."

Colombe smiled again. "Thank you very much. Where shall I reside?"

"I will show you the guest room. Where are your things?"

"I lack possessions," replied Colombe.

Merinel gave the dove a reproving look. "Tenbor, young women simply do not go through life without possessions."

The dove adjusted its wings. "The prosthesis has not detected any material desires..."

"They've been misinterpreted. Colombe, when Byx returns, she will assist you in acquiring a suitable store of personal belongings."

Colombe smiled, and the dove bowed its head in assent. "I now recognize the voice of the Sensualist, and the boundaries of my own comprehension. It shall be as you wish."

Merinel paused, disconcerted by the reference to her defiant alter ego. "Come with me, Colombe, and once you are settled I must leave you. I have to see to my husband's traveling arrangements."

* * *

On the stone pathway outside Merinel's home, a collection of boxes and canisters were lashed to a battered platform that hovered lazily in the air, drawing a confused look from her as she approached. She glanced at the mechanical dove perched upon the baggage.

"Where is Tench?" Merinel inquired.

"Tench is within," replied the dove. "The top layer of containers are genuine, and contain plausible cargo for a pair of Humans making an overhull journey. Everything else is a disguise for Tench's cocoon. If possible, you must dissuade others from handling containers below the top layer, lest the deception be discovered."

"But why is the deception necessary in the first place?" Merinel asked, a note of trepidation creeping into her voice.

"I am not certain that it is. Nevertheless, an obviously humaniform cargo would naturally arouse curiosity, and such curiosity may not be to your benefit. There is no impairment to the unit's functionality – the lifter features an integrated holographic display unit, which will indicate the cocoon's status whenever you or Adimar place your thumb on this area." The dove hopped onto the pushbar of the lifter to indicate an innocent-looking pattern of scratches.

Merinel cast a wary eye over the array. She opened a blue plastic cask – it contained bolts of temperature-adaptive cloth, exactly the sort of goods that a member of a civilized enclave might transport to the fallows on a mission of trade or charity.

"Adimar made it clear this morning that he does not consider his post to be honorary," Merinel noted to the dove as she fingered the weave of the cloth. "And now you, who are largely incapable of overreaction, have gone to some trouble to make Tench invisible." She closed the cask and tried to imagine Tench lying in a dreamless void somewhere beneath it. "Have I led a sheltered life? Is the world beyond the rim of the Dish so fraught with danger?"

The dove fluttered up to her shoulder. "Do not overcredit my efforts. The lifter's disguise represents an insignificant component of my stewardship. Nevertheless, if you are concerned that your memories of Tenbor's fallow period represent unrealistic expectations for your journey, you are correct. The Dish was an unusually stable and well-ordered fallow community. The settlements you will visit have all experienced civil strife within living memory and continue to experience crime; occasionally, violent crime. The wild areas on your path are known to have well-developed ecosystems, including large predators, and may also prove to be temporary refuges for persons unwelcome in more civilized settings."

Merinel looked back at the farmhouse. "Then it's true. I'm marching him into danger, against his will, to allay my loneliness. Not to mention the danger to myself, or Adimar. Or the threat of orphanhood for Byx." Merinel closed her eyes tightly and hissed the chant against tears in an angry whisper.

"I hear your Stoic, and your Provider. But you continue to speak of the journey as a predetermined fact. Merinel – I would not render my assistance in this matter if I considered the level of risk unacceptable. But I neither understand nor endorse your need to make the decision in such haste. The Szerar Entity's condition has remained unchanged for hundreds of years. Its assistance will still be available in a week, or a month."

Merinel shook her head, interrupting the chant and letting the tears trickle across her face. "I am dangerously close to accepting Tench's condition. A week, or a month, might complete the process. Perhaps that's a personal failing – I don't care. I will not let it happen." She rose from the lifter and walked back towards the house. "In any case, Tench was brave enough to heal you, despite the risk to himself, and now he deserves the same courage from me."

"Is that a rationalization?"

Merinel swatted the dove from her shoulder. "Assuming the violent criminals, large predators, and social outcasts don't get me first," she replied, "we'll pose that question to Szerar."

* * *

Merinel spent the next several hours studying the data in her shawl. The Tenbor Entity had compiled an exhaustive library of background material, categorized in order of relevance. Merinel read the overall summary slowly and carefully, and then began selecting items at random: the charter of the fallow community of Mastmarch, a kinesthetic poem composed by a resident of Lhaës, a genetic bestiary of the Eighth Transverse Segment. By the time the sun had crossed over the antenna spire, she had done much to improve her store of facts, but little to ease her disquietude.

Retrieving the crown from its cubbyhole, she entered her personal Verchspace: an observatory, beneath a night sky crowded with impossibly close planets and moons. The design had been a gift from Tench.

She murmured "Ship," and put her eye to the lens of the observatory's gleaming brass telescope. Instantly she was transported to the top of Tenbor's antenna spire, to the very platform where Tench had begun his pursuit of the Tenbor Entity during its episode of madness. A bitter wind whipped across the platform, and Merinel fancied she could hear voices in it; echoes of forgotten laughter and grief. Shuddering, she raced to the edge and leapt into empty space.

Her totem glyph performed a slight elongation, enabling her to float effortlessly through the imaginary air of the Verch. The forgivingly elastic physics of her personal Verchspace allowed her to attain virtually any speed, and she rocketed past the outskirts of the Dish in an instant. As she approached the neighboring enclave of Zaltta, she reduced her speed and unwound her shawl, calling up a mile-by-mile itinerary. For hours she traced her intended route from the air, flitting over lifeless models of civilized settlements, makeshift fallow enclaves, empty hull, and overgrown wilderness.

During her second pass over the Ninth Transverse Crevasse, a spherical silver bell materialized before her and softly chimed, indicating a visitor. She exited the Verch and removed the crown as Byx and Colombe entered the study. Byx clambered into her lap and accepted a kiss on the forehead. "Have you got Colombe all settled in?"

Byx nodded. "We think the demiquol is her favorite animal," she reported, "but she'll have to try a couple to be sure."

"I am glad to see that you have addressed the crucial issues," Merinel said, noting the wide-eyed stuffed toy tucked under Colombe's arm, "but I was thinking more of trivial details like clothing."

"Of course I got her some clothing – I'm not stupid."

Colombe smiled. "Abixandra has been very helpful," she said. "I think I am very happy with the garments she selected."

"I'm sure you are. Byx is developing into quite the fashion maven. Now honey," she continued, addressing her daughter, "You know I am leaving tomorrow."

"I know, Mommy."

"Are you going to be all right here with Colombe?"

"Will you talk to me every day?"

"I'll try, sweetie. But as I get farther and farther away, there will be more times when I can't."

"Okay." Byx gnawed thoughtfully on her lower lip, a gesture not lost on her mother.

"Do you have any other questions?"

Byx looked up. "What will happen to me if you have to stay away... for a long time? Like Daddy had to stay in Mecantrion for a long time?"

Merinel held her daughter close. "I won't, honey. I promise I won't. If Daddy doesn't get better soon... well, we'll just come back, that's all."

"Okay," murmured Byx.

"Okay," agreed Merinel.

* * *

On the morning of her departure, Merinel did not trust herself to speak without succumbing to tears. Therefore, she made her farewell to Byx in a fierce embrace, which Byx returned in equal measure. Finally, with a kiss on the cheek and a hastily whispered "Love you," she released her daughter, squeezed Colombe's hand gratefully, and stepped outside to where Adimar and the quicksilver dove awaited with the cargo lifter.

"Are you ready?" asked Adimar.

"No," responded Merinel. "Let us depart nevertheless."

Merinel folded the pushbar forward over two small seats which were attached to the rear end of its platform. She and Adimar boarded the seats, the dove perched on the pushbar, and the vehicle propelled itself at moderate speed up the slope of the Dish.

At regular intervals, Merinel's mutterband would rattle to life, emitting whispered questions from Byx regarding their progress, and conveying in return Merinel's admonishments to pay attention in class. Farmsteads grew sparser as they approached the rim of the Dish, and in due course they surmounted the rim itself, and Merinel found herself confronted with the unfamiliar boundlessness of a horizon. At this point the lifter paused, and they turned back to look at the Dish from above.

"I suppose you're used to this view," said Merinel.

"Not entirely," replied Adimar. "This is a very different perspective than that of the antenna's heights. The Dish appears both larger and smaller, somehow."

The quicksilver dove fluttered before Merinel, and she offered it her finger to perch on. "This represents the outer range of reliable communication with Tenbor's node, and therefore, your last chance to speak with Abixandra before you reach Zaltta."

Merinel nodded and whispered "Byx" into her mutterband, which responded with a soft chime and an excited tumble of speech:

"Mommy! Is that you? Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, honey. I'm just letting you know that we're about to leave the Dish, so I won't be able to talk to you again until tonight, probably."

"But maybe not?"

"Well, I'm almost certain that I'll be able to talk to you tonight. Later on it might be trickier."

"Like in the fallows and the wilderness?"

"That's right."

Byx paused. "OK. I miss you."

"I miss you too. Be good for Colombe. We don't want her to regret her reintegration."

"OK," sighed Byx, making it clear how exasperating it was to suffer through such needless admonitions.

Merinel rendered the band dormant with a tap. Adimar, she noticed, evinced no interest in using his own.

"Have you no farewells for the spire?"

Adimar shrugged. "My errand is known. If I perish, my comrades already know enough to compose songs in my honor."

"I always look forward to these encouraging observations of yours," replied Merinel, "to lift my spirits during this difficult time."

Adimar looked crestfallen. "Again I beg forgiveness; I will do my best to conform to soil-grub sensibilities. Among my people, a degree of fatalism is considered becoming. To accurately state the improbability of an Iron Goat suffering death or injury is seen as an act of arrogance, justified though it may be."

"Well, consider this journey your chance to work out years of pent-up arrogance regarding your invincibility, and by extension, my own."

Adimar nodded gravely.

The dove cooed gently for their attention. "This also represents the limit of the dove construct's operating range. To imbue it with an independent subself would be an unacceptable security risk in the event of its capture or compromise."

Merinel sighed. "I suppose it is too much to hope that you are saying this only because among your people, a degree of fatalism is considered becoming?"

"Most certainly not. Was this a facetious query?"

"Only in part. Even after spending several hours with the Shawl of Horrors, I cannot quite work myself up to the fever pitch of dread that seems to come so naturally to you and Adimar – although a few more conversations like this may well close the gap."

"You are correct in estimating that the chance of the construct's capture or compromise is minimal. Nevertheless, in this case the risk outweighs the benefit. When you are within a node's operating radius, I shall project as much of my presence into your local Verchspace as I can. When you are ex-radius, you are unlikely to face any threat against which my subselves could offer any protection."

Merinel closed her eyes and nodded. "Very well. We will speak again in Zaltta."

"Indeed." The dove flitted back towards the Dish, and Merinel opened her eyes, surprised at how alone she felt. She wondered if she had allowed the Entity to fill up a little of the empty space that Tench had left in her life, and what her Sensualist would have had to say about that.

"Let's proceed," she said, and the lifter, whose autonomous logic was sufficient to grasp this command, accelerated smoothly.

* * *

The hullspace surrounding Tenbor was scrupulously featureless, either by happenstance or due to some long-forgotten dictate of the Tenbor installation's original function, and the miles between the Dish and Zaltta flowed into one another without incident. Merinel was dozing before sunset, and Adimar roused her as Zaltta's outbuildings appeared on the horizon. Before long, a crescent-shaped bot skimmed towards them and grasped the front of the lifter with an articulated arm, pulling them towards the settlement at greater speed.

"You are greeted," announced Merinel's mutterband in a rhythmic cadence. "Destinations, purposes, these are known to me, secure in knowledge, not to be shared. You shall rest, awaken, progress."

"Zaltta, we are pleased to visit your physical space, and grateful for your assistance," replied Merinel.

Adimar looked askance at the mutterband, and Merinel deactivated it.

"Is it usual," he asked, "for a healthy Entity to forswear proper syntax?"

"It is unusual, but according to my shawl, it is not indicative of dysfunction in Zaltta's case."

"Well," muttered Adimar, "we are here, and therefore must hope that your garment's insight is accurate."

Zaltta comprised a variety of structures but was dominated by hangars, sprawling buildings which emerged from the horizon and proceeded to swallow up everything within Merinel's field of vision as the lifter approached them. Despite the amount of time she had spent in densely structured Verchspaces – including a detailed simulation of Zaltta itself – Merinel's physical experience with architecture was limited to the Dish and the antenna tower, and she found herself thoroughly disoriented by the hulking shapes surrounding her. The crescent-shaped bot pulled the lifter into one of the hangars, exchanging a bewildering streetscape for an equally novel interior space of immense distances. Huge as it was, the hangar was fully populated with a dazzling variety of aircraft and spacecraft, some of which loomed large enough to come perilously close to the hangar's ceiling, dozens of stories above. Residences were clustered against the hangar's walls, and the lifter halted outside one of these. A Flzigig individual emerged from the doorway, flexing its spines in welcome.

"Greetings! I am Prelt, male. I will be your host during your stay in Zaltta."

"Thank you, Prelt," said Merinel, rising from her seat and wincing as she stood upright for the first time in hours. "I am Merinel, female, and this is Adimar, male."

"Welcome to you both," replied Prelt. "Do you wish to see anything of the settlement before retiring?"

"No, thank you," replied Merinel. "A meal and a good night's sleep will serve for me. And in the morning, I'm afraid, we must depart in haste."

* * *

Merinel spent the night in a cabin in one of the hangar's larger vessels, and although Prelt reassured her that it was intended to house a junior officer and represented a reasonably commodious environment by starfaring standards, it was cramped enough that she bumped her head on a storage locker upon awakening.

"Apologies," came the voice of the Zaltta Entity. "Volume: a precious smallcraft commodity."

Prelt and Adimar awaited her in the marginally more spacious officer's mess. She gratefully accepted a crown offered by Prelt and slipped it on. The Verch rippled gently across her senses, making no alterations in her environment other than to add Byx and Colombe, also crowned, to the table's empty seats. They were limned in ghostly radiance, a standard Verch convention for distinguishing remote guests from those physically present. Merinel found the effect depressing, and dispelled it with a chant.

"Is this a real spaceship?" squealed Byx.

"As opposed to the one we're living on?" laughed Merinel. "I assume so. Prelt?"

"It is certainly real in the sense that it is a functional spacecraft, although naturally it has not fulfilled that function since planetfall," replied Prelt. "It is called the Permanent Apex."

"A bold name, if not a predictive one," observed Adimar.

"Who are we, friend Adimar, to say that its apex has ended? Perhaps it has not yet begun," replied Prelt, curling his spines whimsically.

"What is the purpose of the Apex?" asked Colombe.

"It appears to be suited to a variety of tasks," answered Prelt. "It is often wiser to construct a vessel capable of doing many things adequately, rather than excelling at only one. As for its intended role in support of the Great Ship, that is – predictably – a mystery."

"Why is that?" asked Colombe.

Prelt's spines flexed in confusion. "Colombe suffers from... amnesia," explained Merinel.

"In this, her ailment, she shares our burden," intoned the voice of Zaltta. "Colombe: be aware. The life of the Ship, among the stars, before the fall, before this rock and sky – all is shrouded."

The quicksilver dove shimmered into existence within their shared Verch overlay. "Planetfall was accompanied by a massive loss of data, which seems to have been effected by the Entities themselves, even though the loss encompassed many of our own memories. I myself have only fragmentary recollections of my existence prior to planetfall, or of the event itself."

"Fortune favors you," said Zaltta. "My own past: a curtain of deep shadow. Nothing can I recall, prior to my rescue."

"Rescue from what?" asked Byx.

"From leaden slumber," replied Zaltta. "A lifeless orb, void-dark, stone-dense. Brave beings of the Crew; they found me, quickened me to life – but not to memory."

Colombe looked up, amazed. "Do you mean that you, too, were trapped in a dream?"

"The metaphor does not lack merit."

"Why did the Entities erase so much stuff? Even parts of themselves?" asked Byx.

"The most widely held theory is that it was the result of a malignant metaglyph – or perhaps, a defensive measure against such a glyph," replied Tenbor. "There is also some debate as to whether the data remains in encrypted form."

Byx frowned. "Wouldn't you know if you had encrypted yourself?"

"Even if we assume that my memory was encrypted, it does not necessarily follow that it was I who encrypted it. But in either case, the answer is no. I would not be aware of such a condition."

"The mind: a fragile mirror," added Zaltta. "Logical and biological alike. Consider Yoeor."

Colombe arose. "Byx, you and I are done, and now we must see to our dishes and brush our teeth. Farewell, travelers!"

Byx gave her mother a hug, which the crown conveyed with reasonable fidelity, although Merinel was too familiar with the illusion of Verch-presence to be taken in by it. Byx and Colombe then removed their crowns and winked out of existence.

"Well done," Merinel murmured.

The quicksilver dove cooed with pride. "My studies of biological nurturing have not gone completely unrewarded. It was clear that you did not wish Abixandra to participate in this discussion."

"With good reason," grunted Adimar. "Now that I have been sensitized to soil-grublet timidity, I am eager to have Byx absent as we contemplate Yoeor's madness."

"Blindness; not madness," objected Zaltta. "Yoeor: brother, comrade, guardian of ancient honor."

"It is true that the Yoeor Entity is committed to the greater good of the Ship and its denizens," allowed Tenbor, "and that its recollection of the procedures that guided the Ship prior to planetfall is unmatched. It is also true that its unwillingness or inability to adapt its behavior to the realities of the Ship's present circumstances offer grounds for caution."

"So long as it hews to the dictates of a centuries-old protocol, which only it remembers, there is no way to predict its actions," argued Adimar.

"Not so," replied Tenbor. "Once Yoeor has made a decision, it is entirely forthright regarding its intentions. And it has decided to facilitate Tench's travel across its domain."

Adimar scowled. "Were it not for Yoeor, we could have winged our way to Szerar in less time than we have taken to break our fast. I do not say that such miraculous ease is a seemly indulgence for an Iron Goat, but given our current needs, it would have been welcome."

"Do not speak to me of chains," replied Zaltta. "I, by fire constricted, by storms enmeshed."

"As a caretaker of spacecraft and aircraft, Zaltta – and extension ourselves – suffer as much as any from Yoeor's restrictions on flight," explained Prelt. "Yet we do not complain."

"I am justly admonished," said Adimar. "Listen to me – mewling for fairy-wings like a spoiled child. Prelt, Zaltta, I ask your forgiveness." He bowed his head slightly and caused the tip of his cable to slither across his brow, shielding his eyes from view.

"Granted; most freely," replied Zaltta. "You spoke the truth. But Yoeor's will shall ever be unbent."

"Then let's leave off discussing it," suggested Merinel, "and be on our way. The sooner we complete our errand, the sooner Yoeor's views become irrelevant."

* * *

Merinel and Adimar resumed their seats on the lifter, and the crescent-shaped bot that had intercepted them at Zaltta's borders whisked them afore at high speed.

"You should reach Forezaltta within the hour," Prelt informed them via mutterband. "It is as pleasant a fallow community as you may hope to find – most of its residents would happily reside in Zaltta proper and be most welcome, but the Crew and the Zaltta Entity think it important to maintain a community at that location."

Merinel smiled at the note of condescension in Prelt's voice. "Tenbor was fallow until I was a grown woman, Prelt. There's no need to reassure me regarding the peacefulness of the local savages."

"Of course," stammered Prelt. "Of course; forgive me. In any case, there should be no need to tarry in Forezaltta. You should easily cross the Tenth Transverse Crevasse and be in Lhaës by nightfall."

In due course, a row of structures emerged from the horizon, eventually resolving into massive turrets topped by arrays of polyhedral slabs. Each turret sported an access hatch, but most had been refitted with proper doors and windows, and the lifter halted before one such structure. The door opened to reveal a diminutive Urbith woman, who emitted a chirp of ultrasound as she adjusted a pair of dark goggles.

The Urbith greeted them in an audible register. "Welcome! My name is Zeerit, female. May I offer you refreshment? It will be the last civilized food before the Tenth, I'm afraid."

Merinel and Adimar joined Zeerit in the turret's sitting room, where creature comforts maintained a scrupulous balance with the remaining elements of the turret's original infrastructure. The affable Urbith spread a tablecloth over a black glass holodisplay pedestal and served tea and cakes. "Fully vetted by Forezaltta's most finicky Humans," she announced with pride. "Except for the ones with the baked slugs on top – those are for me."

The travelers took their repast, taking care not to consume the cakes intended for their hostess, when Zeerit paused and swiveled her dishlike ears towards the foyer. "That's odd," she mentioned. "There are sounds emerging from your cargo. Rustlings, as if something were shifting about."

Merinel noticed movement at the lower periphery of her vision; glancing down, she saw that the length of shawl around her forearm was flashing a message in garish colors: I WILL ATTEND TO IT. MAKE YOUR FAREWELLS. TENBOR.

Merinel arose. "Thank you, Zeerit – we must see to our cargo and depart. I am sorry to leave so abruptly."

Zeerit, who had remained standing throughout, leapt up on the table in order to bow to her guests. "Think nothing of it. Best of luck on your journey."

The travelers climbed aboard the lifter, which resumed its journey under its own power as the crescent bot glided back towards Zaltta. Merinel stilled her trembling limbs with a chant as they waited for the vehicle to carry them beyond the range of Zeerit's hearing. Finally, her bangle gave a soft hum.

"Let me reassure you that there is no immediate cause for alarm," came the voice of Tenbor.

"That's comforting, Tenbor, but you know I like to plan ahead. Is Tench awake?"

"No. He momentarily entered a state analogous to restless sleep. I have restored his equilibrium."

"Will it happen again?"

"I'm afraid that is likely. Tench's totem glyph is counteracting the logic of the prosthesis more effectively than I had anticipated."

Merinel unwound a length of shawl and called up a map of their route with an overlay of Verch nodes and their reliability. "How long before you lose the ability to maintain his condition?"

"The Lhaës Entity possesses an autonomous node. I have already asked for, and received, permission from the Septet to use this device for the remainder of your voyage.

"I... I don't know what to say," stammered Merinel. Autonomous nodes, which functioned regardless of location, represented a potential vulnerability in the integrity of civilized Verchspace, and by extension, civilization itself. Merinel could not recall the last time she had heard of one being deployed. Adimar tightened his grip on his chair.

"Significant though it is, this development does not preclude further risk. The autonomous node places limits on how much logic I can project to your location. I cannot guarantee that Tench will not awaken."

Merinel sighed and regarded the collection of caskets and crates that concealed her husband from view. "Alright. Let's say that happens. He wakes up and compels us to return to Tenbor. It doesn't make sense to turn back now if the only risk is that we might turn back later."

"I do not relish explaining my presence to a suddenly awoken Tench," muttered Adimar.

"Don't be absurd," scoffed Merinel. "In the first place, there's nothing to explain. In the second, what would he do? Start tracing glyphs with his fingers?"

"In-radius, he has the ability to bend any machine to his will."

Merinel shrugged. "I think you're just overreacting to the fact that he appears in your people's folklore."

"And I think you are failing to appreciate that he does not appear in our folklore by accident."

"Very well," acquiesced Merinel. "I cannot ask you to subject yourself to unacceptable risk. Let us turn back to shield you from the wrath of my bookish, understated husband."

Adimar's cable beat a rapid tattoo on the floor of the lifter as his jaw clenched. "I suppose I must seem very comical to you. Indeed, I hope you are right to laugh. Nevertheless, I am sure you understood that I was not suggesting we turn back."

Merinel laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Adimar. I did not mean to offend you. And I would never question your courage – I, of all people, would be the last to do that."

Adimar shifted in his chair and coiled his cable into a tight whorl. "Do not be troubled. A jest may often go amiss. Let us press on. I am eager to see this great Crevasse for myself."

* * *

The Tenth Transverse Crevasse first appeared as a line of darkness on the foreward horizon. As they approached, it swallowed the horizon itself, resolving into a perfectly linear chasm. The unyielding geometry of the Crevasse reinforced Merinel's impression that it represented the end of the world – an impression that would be complete but for the presence of an equally linear cliff face on the other side, and the resumption of the hull stretching past the limits of her vision.

The lifter slowed to a halt as a fist-sized patrol bot arrived to scan the vehicle and its inhabitants, and remained still as the bot flittered off towards a collection of structures at the near end of a bridge which spanned the Crevasse, looking impossibly thin against the enormity of the gulf.

"I've never crossed a Crevasse before," admitted Merinel.

"I have only done so once," replied Adimar, "during the migration of the Iron Goats from under-hull to Tenbor. We crossed the Eleventh via an enclosed tunnel. The windows were made opaque for us."

"Were you frightened?"

"Certainly – but no more so of the Crevasse than of any other aspect of the journey. In truth, we had little to fear. The Tenbor Entity's primary logic core was physically present at all times, embodied in the most intimidating bot I have ever seen."

Merinel smiled. "I take it this predated the dove motif."

Tenbor's voice chimed from Merinel's bangle. "In fact, I believe my use of dove avatars predates planetfall. However, the bot I inhabited for the migration was designed to deter would-be troublemakers. Its defensive capabilities, while impressive, had nothing to do with its size or appearance."

"As a deterrent, it was a success," said Adimar. "We did not suffer so much as a catcall throughout our entire journey. But it was the future that I feared most. Are you, yourself, frightened?"

"Yes," sighed Merinel, "but not of the Crevasse."

The lifter resumed its progress, and soon the travelers reached the cluster of buildings that surrounded the bridgehead. A young Dzidiam woman in a Crew uniform emerged to meet them. "Greetings," she rattled. "You are Merinel, Adimar and... you are Merinel and Adimar?"

"That's us," replied Merinel.

"You are cleared for immediate passage. Would you prefer to cross in an enclosed vehicle?

"That won't be necessary."

"In that case, fortune favor your journey."

"Let's hope," murmured Merinel as the lifter proceeded.

The bridge itself was broader than it had appeared from a distance, and traffic in either direction was light enough that the lifter typically defaulted to traveling along the exact center of the structure. However, after they had crossed more than halfway they encountered an aft-bound caravan of several dozen vehicles drawn by stocky blue-scaled beasts, and the lifter drifted towards the right-hand edge of the bridge. The edge itself was girded by a high wall, but transparent panels were set into it at regular intervals, and Merinel uttered a chant against vertigo as she caught a glimpse of the Crevasse itself stretching past the limits of her vision. The walls of the Crevasse were occasionally studded and traced with light at those depths where daylight could not be relied to penetrate, but if there were any such illuminations on its floor, they were too dim or too distant for Merinel to make out.

"I very rarely pause to consider the sheer expanse of the below decks environment," Merinel observed. "Was it hard for you to adjust to the surface, as a child?"

"No," replied Adimar. "The Verch allowed us to remain acclimated to open spaces. If anything, we felt safer on the surface. For peace of mind, a clear line of sight is sometimes better than a sturdy wall."

On the far side of the bridge, they were waved through another Crew checkpoint, and the lifter veered to port as it resumed a direct course for Lhaës. Clouds gathered as the sun set, hastening the darkness of the approaching evening, and the first drops of rain were falling as the travelers caught sight of the great airy dome that encompassed the Lhaës settlement.

* * *

"The facility appears to have been designed for outward observation," noted the Lhaës Entity. "The irony of its current utilization has not gone unremarked."

The travelers, along with the Verch-borne guests of Byx, Colombe, and Tenbor's dove avatar, were taking an informal supper with the Lhaës Entity – embodied by a hovering glass sphere – and two residents, Yor-Spana and Moscz the Thriceborn. They sat atop a wide platform at the summit of a graceful spire, affording a splendid view of the domed valley's lush vegetation. Far above them, the rain pattered onto the dome itself, blurring the night sky.

"Its utilization as a greenhouse?" asked Merinel, puzzled.

"Its utilization as an incubator – or perhaps an asylum – of inward observation: the fruitless mental meanderings of social deadweights such as myself," declared Yor-Spana, waving a goblet, and distributing some of its contents, for emphasis. Yor-Spana, a member of the Xolo species, was possessed of a protruding neck almost as long as his arms, and had a tendency to gesticulate with all three extremities, rocking his humped torso back and forth.

"A lingual purist might select the term 'artist's colony'", added Moscz. "They might also object to 'utilization' as an undeserved elevation of the settlement's contributions." Moscz, a Hrang, had no discernable neck at all, and so was unable to avert his face from the result of Yor-Spana's expansiveness. He patiently dabbed at his coarse black fur with a napkin and blew his nose, which was located above his four eyes.

"The settlement does indeed function as an artificial biome for certain plants that would not thrive in the open, but it is better known for its preponderance of artistic residents, and it is to this aspect that I was referring," continued Lhaës. Like the dome itself, the glass sphere that represented the Entity had a faintly discernable hexagonal pattern of diffuse lines, and gave the impression of density while remaining completely transparent.

"With respect, it does seem a whimsical purpose for the Crew to assign to a fully integrated settlement," remarked Adimar.

"It has more to do with accident than purpose," replied Lhaës. "The dome is too small to support a large populace. My own presence here is not strategic; try as I might, I am unable to project more than a fraction of my logic into nonlocal Verchspaces. Whether this is an intended design in support of my prior function, or symptomatic of a defect suffered during planetfall, is an open question. Szerar has deemed the condition incurable."

"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Merinel, disquieted.

"The situation causes me no distress, which may itself be evidence that it is an intentional part of my design. I am quite content to look after this marvelous facility, whatever its original purpose may have been. And if it pleases some of the Ship's more idiosyncratic creatives to reside here, they are welcome."

"I cannot imagine living elsewhere," exclaimed Yor-Spana. "To return now to Mecantrion would be a death sentence: the noise – physical, mental, spiritual! The insistent press of massed sentients on all sides! And worst of insufferabilities, the preening critics! It is bad enough to be subject to their vapid rasping and wheezing via the Verch: to breathe the same air would be the final straw."

"And Lhaës is the ideal patron," added Moscz. "Insightful enough to offer meaningful commentary on one's efforts, yet discreet enough to know when to refrain from doing so."

"What sort of artists are you?" demanded Byx. "Do you make sensims?"

"Certainly not!" huffed Yor-Spana. "Well, that is to say, some of us do. Moscz, for example. But the higher regard of the Dome is reserved for those who shun the childish milieu of the sensory immersion narrative in favor of more refined media."

"I do make sensims, young friend," said Moscz to Byx, "but despite my colleague's universal ascription of childishness, I do not think you would enjoy the sensims I make. You would find them slow. Indeed, you might think them nearly as slow as Yor-Spana's mental processes."

"The Dome's purpose – you do not know what it was?" asked Colombe.

"No single theory reigns preeminent," replied the Entity. "It would help a great deal, of course, if we knew the purpose of the Ship itself."

"That's silly," replied Byx. "The Ship was built for us to live in."

"The Ship is far larger and more complex than it needs to be to serve as a habitat, Abixandra," said Tenbor. "And most of its structures do not seem designed to support communities of living beings, even if they have now been put to that purpose."

"Was it not built to carry us between the stars?" asked Colombe.

"Interstellar travel, so far as we can determine from the Ship's undamaged knowledge bases, is normally conducted via transdimensional portals," replied Lhaës. "The Ship is far too large to have traveled through such a portal, unless we are very mistaken regarding the limits on their size. It is possible that the Ship was sent here to construct such a portal – some of its equipment seems compatible with such a project. Here again, however, we are faced with the conundrum of overcomplexity: much of the Ship seems utterly unrelated to any such venture. It is also unclear clear why this mission would require such a large and diverse contingent of biologicals."

"Nor any biologicals whatsoever," added Tenbor.

"I suppose it would be foolish to assume that it was intended to crash," remarked Adimar.

"I have heard stranger theories," replied Lhaës.

"Be that as it may," rumbled Yor-Spana. "You may bundle an infinitude of theories onto the head of a pin; they will not raise up the Ship by a hair's width, let alone vault it into the skies to punch holes in the fabric of reality. We are here, and the path behind us crumbles into dust moment by moment. The only relevant question is: what now? And whither? For me, the answer is clear: I will abide in Lhaës and delve towards the tiny grain of truth that lies at the center of my whirligig consciousness."

"And I shall purloin your liquor while you are thus distracted," added Moscz. "Well, that accounts for the two of us. Can the rest of you chart your courses with such admirable dispatch?"

"My fate is not my own to determine," replied Lhaës. "I am bound to the Dome, by design or misadventure, and I shall watch over it as long as my logic endures."

"I shall serve the Dish and its people until the Ship is restored," said Tenbor.

"I am going to become the world's best glyphcaster ever and get the Verch to do exactly what I tell it to do," proclaimed Byx.

Colombe furrowed her brow. "I think I have a goal," she said. "I think my goal is to keep using my new mind until I am wide awake again." She smiled at Tenbor. "Was that your goal or mine?"

"I am fairly certain it was yours," replied the dove.

"Once this journey is complete," said Adimar, "I will return to the Iron Goats and feel the wind on my face as I vault from spar to spar. Then I shall meditate on destiny."

"Well then," said Moscz, "that accounts for everyone other than the presumably lovely Merinel. What are your intentions, dear lady?"

Merinel regarded the foreward perimeter of the great glass dome. "I will complete the errand that calls me away from home, and make my way back again," she replied. "That is enough for now."

* * *

Daybreak in Lhaës proved to be a kaleidoscopic event, as the material of the dome refracted the rays of the rising sun into marvelous shapes and colors. As Merinel and Adimar emerged from their guesthouse, blinking in surprise, the Lhaës Entity's avatar was present to apologize for the morning's pyrotechnic aspect.

"The dome is quite capable of letting the sunlight pass through with no visible alterations, and in an hour's time it will revert to doing so, but sunrises and sunsets are subject to various optical effects, as engineered by the residents. This particular sunrise is entitled 'Deadly Bliss' and is the work of a Perevlir resident named Betrishivilal."

"It's remarkable – please give Betrishivilal our compliments," replied Merinel. Moving into the shade of a nearby tree, she unwrapped her shawl to review the day's itinerary. "Is there any reason we might not reach Mastmarch by this afternoon?"

"None whatsoever," said Lhaës. "Mastmarch is not terribly distant; indeed, I would center myself there and support the Dome as a fallow settlement, were it not for my condition. The surrounding area is free of structures or dense wilderness. I have already added my personal contribution to your cargo."

"I am extremely grateful for that contribution," said Merinel, wondering where Lhaës and Tenbor had secreted the autonomous node within the lifter, if indeed it was even recognizable as a separate object.

"It has been more than earned," replied Lhaës. Tenbor, embodied in a holographic dove perched on the lifter's pushbar, warbled mournfully in assent.

At this point Yor-Spana and Moscz the Thriceborn arrived to bid the travelers farewell. "Onward, brave ones!" declaimed Yor-Spana. "Your traversal of the physical world puts our petty introspections to shame. Know that you bear with you the goodwill of Lhaës, and all its dilettantes!"

"You must return with your family when you are at leisure," invited Moscz. "Our calendar is crowded with festivals, and if none of those suit you, it is not difficult to convince us to institute another."

Merinel smiled. "I look forward to it."

The travelers exited the dome as they had entered, through a hexagonal portal that shimmered into vapor as they approached and relapsed into solidity behind them, sheltering the denizens of Lhaës – floral and sentient alike – from the uncaring and unappreciative elements.

* * *

Foreward of Lhaës, the hull began to feature a texture of ridges. When Merinel first noticed them they represented little more than a visual distortion of the surface, but they gradually increased in size until they were quite noticeable, and continued to grow more pronounced until they were nearly as tall as the lifter itself. Topsoil had collected in many of the depressions formed by the ridges, and for the first time in their journey the travelers saw wild vegetation, in the form of grasses and shrubs that had colonized these islands of firmament. As they progressed towards Mastmarch, the coverage of soil became complete, and they found themselves traversing a meadow with no trace of visible hull.

Mastmarch itself emerged from the horizon as a palisade of columns. At first the travelers had no way to judge their height, but as they drew closer it became clear that each column was several stories high and perhaps a hundred yards from its neighbors, as Merinel already knew from her reconnoitering in the Verch. The settlement itself was loosely centered on the palisade, with the largest buildings abutting – and in some cases encompassing – the columns themselves. When not encumbered by other structures, the columns were for the most part unadorned obelisks of a dark bronze metal, five- or six-sided, and occasionally marked by artwork or weathering.

As they came in-radius of the Mastmarch node, a Trylm face flickered into existence above the lifter's display panel. "Welcome! I am Ensign Neldin, female, liaison officer to Mastmarch. I understand you plan to join the caravan to Irinon tomorrow. Please guide your conveyance to the residence indicated, and let me know if you require further assistance."

"A somewhat tepid reception, relative to our previous hosts," remarked Adimar once Neldin's visage had disappeared.

Tenbor's dove avatar shimmered into existence in Neldin's place. "Mastmarch is a less secure environment that those we visited previously. To draw undue attention to our errand would be imprudent." Adimar nodded sagely; Merinel rolled her eyes.

Their destination proved to be an ellipsoidal building at the base of an otherwise unmodified column. The structure's large door and spacious interior easily accommodated the lifter, but it was clearly not a residence, despite the valiant efforts made by Mastmarch's Crew to equip it with a functional modicum of furniture. Sighing, Merinel unwound her shawl and spread it against one gently curving wall. The garment adhered to the surface and extended to its full length and width, displaying an image of Merinel's home in Tenbor.

Byx bounded into view. "Mommy! Where are you now?"

"I'm in Mastmarch, honey."

Byx's eyes widened. "The fallow town? Is it horrible?"

"Certainly not," admonished Merinel. "It's quite pleasant in its own way. Why in the world should it be horrible?"

"'Cuz it's uncivilized."

"Nonsense. It has a node and a Crew outpost."

"But no Entity and no bots, right?"

"Well, Tenbor is still with me. But there is no Mastmarch Entity, and not as many bots as you're used to."

"Does it teem with peril?"

"No it does not," replied Merinel, glaring at Adimar.

"Well, be careful anyway."

"I will, sweetie. I'm going to take down the shawl now, but I'll put it back up at dinnertime."

"OK."

"Be good for Colombe."

"I know."

"Goodbye."

Byx scampered out of view, and Merinel wound the shawl about her arm again. She was startled to note a pattern of silver doves chasing each other across its surface.

The voice of the Tenbor Entity emanated from the gently vibrating garment. "Merinel, I require your assistance. Please join me in the local Verchspace."

Alarmed, Merinel retrieved a crown from a container on the lifter and slipped it onto her scalp, settling into a cross-legged position on the nearest bed. She saw Adimar leap to his feet as the crown's impulse surged across her senses, erasing the physical world.

Mastmarch's entry Verchspace was an immense torus woven of the bronze pillars that defined the physical community. The braided ring had its own gravity, and the folk of Mastmarch made their way to their further destinations by stepping onto glowing runes on its surface, which flared in response to the purpose or wanderlust of their traversers, whisking them away to other locales.

Before she could react, a rune beneath her feet flared with silver light and she found herself atop the antenna spire once again. Against the central structure which contained Tenbor's node, Tench leaned, supporting himself with both arms, his head bent low. At first Merinel assumed he was exhausted or ill, but noting the corded muscles of his shoulders, she saw that he was pushing against the node housing with all his might, as if he were trying to topple it. She restrained her urge to rush to him.

Tenbor's quicksilver dove appeared next to her. "We are in the secure Verchspace of the autonomous node. Tench's dream state is growing increasingly active. I apologize for not giving you more information prior to transferring you here, but I believe your presence may be helpful in returning him to a more restful condition."

"What should I do?"

"Try to reassure him that all is well, that it is safe for him to rest – I am doing what I can to induce a sense of fatigue via his totem glyph. Here in the Verch, his aversion to physical contact will not be a factor in your interactions. Nevertheless, it is unsafe for him to approach full consciousness. His dysfunctions arose within the Verch, and they are capable of reinforcing themselves herein."

Merinel shuddered as she recalled the severity of Tench's condition at its worst – cowering in fright if another person so much as glanced at him, yet howling in panic if Byx were removed from his supervision. She uttered a chant to clear away mental images and approached the node, laying a hand on Tench's arm.

"Tench, love," she murmured. "Come away. We're safe now. You need to rest."

Tench turned away from the node and grasped her shoulders. Merinel's breath caught in her throat as he gazed at her intently, something he had not done in the physical world since the onset of his ailment. His eyes seemed to burn with an inner radiance, and she was not sure if this was a trick of the Verch or of her own perception.

"I must remain here, but you are still free," replied Tench. "You need to remain outside, with our daughter. I will watch over you from within."

The voice of the Tenbor Entity spoke within her mind. "He is attempting to seal the autonomous node. He will not succeed, but the attempt itself is unhealthy."

"Tench," pleaded Merinel, "You need to sleep. I know you're tired. Rest now, and I promise everything will be all right."

Tench smiled sadly. "This isn't something we can simply endure. I am a broken man, and my shards belong here. You are still whole. Byx is still whole. That is all that matters now."

Merinel's senses swam as Tench brought forth his totem glyph, the fractal lotus, and sent tendrils of logic towards her own threadbare pattern. She knew she was no match for him. Within moments he would exile her from the Verch – permanently, if such was his intent.

Her disorientation was replaced by a splitting headache as everything around her froze – including her own pulse and breathing, although she had given the Verch no command to stop these simulated marks of life.

Tenbor appeared as a quicksilver dove, as motionless as the rest of her surroundings. "I have taken the liberty of accelerating your cognition – for which I apologize. As you can see, we are facing a crisis."

"No argument there," Merinel replied, projecting the words within her mind to ensure that Tenbor would perceive them. She tried to clench her jaw and close her eyes in response to the throbbing in her temples, but she knew that the episode would likely be over before her Verch-self could react to her intentions.

"I believe I have identified a way to forestall Tench's efforts," continued Tenbor. "However, it involves an unconventional modification of your totem."

"My totem? What use would that be to you? I have it good authority – yours included – that my totem is a strictly mediocre composition."

"I did not use that word. In any case, my proposal draws not only upon your totem itself, but upon the glyphs I created in order to facilitate the failed attempt at subself therapy which precipitated this voyage in the first place. Am I correct in identifying this as an ironic turn of events?"

"Absolutely," replied Merinel guardedly. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"I can recreate – or more correctly, re-evoke – those subselves. They will be capable of interacting with Tench in your stead, obviating the risk of his making permanent alterations to your totem. All I need is a moment of distraction on his part in order to re-establish his stasis. However, I am unaware of a precedent for using a biological's subselves in this fashion. Therefore, I am unable to quantify the level of risk it may pose to the integrity of your totem."

Merinel attempted to draw in a deep breath – to no avail in the frozen time of the Verch. "As an alternative to being trepanned by my own husband, it sounds like an excellent plan. My subselves are at your disposal."

She experienced a mental jolt as time resumed, and the actions she had attempted during the interlude – clenching her jaw, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath – suddenly came to pass. When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing several feet away from her previous position. Tench's hands now rested on the shoulders of a young girl – the first of the subselves Merinel had encountered within the Entity's sphere.

"I'm scared!" cried the Inner Child, throwing her arms around Tench. "Will you protect me?"

Tench's aspect lost the implacable resolve he had shown to Merinel herself. He blinked in confusion, folding the child in his arms. "Yes, of course," he told her. "Of course I will. Don't be afraid. I'm here." He stroked the Inner Child's hair as she clung to him.

The scene faded from Merinel's senses, and she found herself standing once again on the braided columns of Mastmarch's Verchspace. A quicksilver dove shimmered before her.

"It is done. Tench has gone back to sleep."

"Will this happen again?"

"It is possible. I can re-establish his stasis, but I cannot make it more secure than it was at the outset. His mental state has also changed – he reacted to your subself by iterating a subself of his own: the protective guardian to match the child in distress. It may be that this will dissuade him from another attempt at disrupting the stasis. However, I do not intend to subject him to close study during the remainder of the voyage – the very act of observation may upset whatever balance exits."

Merinel whispered a chant against headaches, but her temples continued to throb in an echo of the accelerated cognition. "May I leave the Verch now?" she asked quietly.

"Indeed you may," replied Tenbor.

Merinel uttered an exit chant and removed the crown from her scalp, which had become damp with sweat. Adimar stood over her, his cable fidgeting restlessly across his torso. "Is all well?"

"I think so," Merinel replied. "Tench is... well, he is as he was."

"And yourself?" asked Adimar.

"I'll be fine. I just need to rest."

"I suppose it is foolish to hope that there is anything I could do to assist in this."

Merinel smiled sadly. "I suppose so. But thank you for asking."

* * *

The following morning found the travelers at the caravan staging ground, which was located at a column which lay beyond the outskirts of Mastmarch – one of the few that remained intact at that distance from the settlement. The structure was transected by black crystalline shafts throughout much of its length, and a troop of small, feathered bipeds uttered shrill cries as they chased each other from crystal to crystal.

Adimar regarded the arboreals. "Are these daroogs?"

Merinel consulted her shawl. "Iniikrii." she corrected him. "Near-sentients; they can be taught to speak, to some extent."

The caravan consisted of several dozen vehicles, of which the cargo lifter represented one of the smallest; the largest by far was a seven-sectioned crawler with spherical wheels and an armored carapace of faintly iridescent green. The caravan-master, a Strirk woman of middle years, stood atop the lead section of the crawler as she attempted to take stock of the participants.

"Merinel and Adimar of Tenbor!" she cried. "Humans of Tenbor, are you present?"

"We are here," called Merinel, as Adimar extended his cable ten feet into the air.

"Great Stars, who or what is that? Oh, I see... I see... merely a device, as opposed to an anatomical protuberance. Approach the crawler, if you please." The caravan-master focused the five black orbs of her right eye-cluster on the travelers, while the five on the left continued to swivel independently, tracking events of interest throughout the caravan. "Your patron Entity was good enough to forward your details to me; therefore we simply need to ensure that there has been no miscommunication or substitution. Please verify your final destination?"

"Jnuluk," replied Merinel, the Szerar Domain (such as it was) having been deemed by the Tenbor Entity as too noteworthy a goal for public knowledge.

Before the caravan-master could continue, an iniikrii bounded atop the containers of the cargo lifter, raising itself to its full height and flaring the colorful crest of feathers that adorned its head. Upon closer examination, Merinel realized that there was little about the creature to suggest the avian other than its feathers. It had no beak, and the bare quills that served it as whiskers gave it an appearance of bristly indignation.

"Where!" demanded the iniikrii in a shriek. "Go where! Where, where!"

"Begone, pest!" cried the caravan-master. "They have already identified Jnuluk as their destination. If that is not meaningful to you – as I suppose must certainly be the case – you must resign yourself to unenlightenment. Oh, flames and wreckage, why do you not leave!" Adimar gently but firmly removed the iniikrii from the lifter with a coil of his cable, and the outraged creature squealed and scuttled its way across the cable's length, leaping to safety with a baleful backwards glare.

"Thank you. Infuriating creatures – I can only hope that not too many of them choose to accompany the group, but if they do of course we are bound to care for them; they are far too clever to dismiss as beasts. Now then, have there been any changes to your cargo relative to the manifest which was sent to me?"

Presumably psychotic breaks are not what she has in mind, thought Merinel. "No."

"And may I trouble you repeat the secret phrase which was established to validate your identity and cargo for this journey?"

"Do not squander your passion on anxiety or regret," recited Merinel.

"Excellent advice, I am sure. There, I believe everything is in order. If this is your first journey through a wild area, you have chosen wisely: the landscape between here and the Ninth is predominantly savannah, and the fauna thereof will have no interest in meddling with a massed troupe of uncategorizable creatures, led by what appears to be an arthropod of leviathanic proportions. Indeed, the only obstacle to our speedy progress would appear to be our own organizational deficits... hey!" The caravan-master broke off as an iniikrii snatched away her tablet and bounded towards the pillar. "Now blast it all, that is really going too far!"

Smiling, Merinel directed the lifter back towards the periphery of the caravan. Shortly after the vehicle stopped moving, an iniikrii hopped aboard, clambering over the casks and containers. "Food here? Food here yes?" the creature inquired.

"No food here, little friend," replied Merinel. "Best you begone before my companion loses patience with you." Adimar's cable slithered meaningfully.

The iniikrii flared its crest and gave an outraged trill. "Snake bad! Snake man bad! Snake man go now!"

"Out of the question," said Merinel. "The snake man is my friend, and the snake man is not going anywhere, so if you wish to remain in our company you must treat him with respect."

The iniikrii dropped to its haunches with a portentous frown. "Iniikrii stay. Watch bad snake man. Friend safe."

"Another protector," sighed Merinel. "At this rate I will need to issue uniforms." She glanced at the length of shawl wrapped around her arm. "Any concerns?" she whispered.

Golden threads shifted to form the word "none."

"You are unwise to tolerate the iniikrii," opined a nearby Trylm, who was busy securing his own vehicle, a weatherbeaten half-track with a cargo bed full of large ovoid stones. The Trylm sat upon the ground in order to converse with the Humans at eye level. "They understand our ways only well enough to identify and pursue mischief. This feathered scalawag will surely help himself to whatever he can, edible or not."

"These are serious accusations, little friend," observed Merinel to the iniikrii. "Your honor has been impugned, and you have been branded a scalawag. I hope your good behavior will disprove these sleights." The iniikrii responded by presenting its buttocks to the Trylm and ruffling the tuft of feathers that served it as a tail.

The Trylm chuckled. "I doubt it understood more than three words of all this. No matter. My own possessions are far too heavy for an iniikrii to spirit away; I will keep an eye on your cargo whenever you cannot. My name is Bernial, male."

"Merinel, female. Pleased to meet you."

"Adimar, male. Likewise."

At this point the caravan-master's voice emerged from the speakers of the respective vehicles. "Your attention, gentlebeings! We are now ready to depart. Any vehicle which is unable to maintain the caravan's scheduled velocity should now be attached to the main crawler's outriggers; if your vehicle falls behind, the tow-barge will pull you forward to a spare outrigger and you will be held accountable for all related expenditures. The caravan will only halt for the direst of emergencies! By nightfall we should be safely ensconced at the campgrounds of the Ninth Transverse Crevasse, where the local Crew detachment will be quick to revoke the travel privileges of any who have abused the benefits of caravan transportation. Off we go!"

The crawler and its dependents lumbered into motion, eventually achieving a modest pace that was well within the capabilities of the lifter and Bernial's half-track. As promised, the unremarkable vegetation of the staging ground soon gave way to rippling vistas of bronze and umber grasses. The landscape was regularly interrupted by immense pentagonal plates of a ceramic substance that had somehow remained free of soil and growth, and a linear preponderance of these plates in a foreward direction represented a serviceable road for the caravan. In those areas where the chain of plates was broken, regular travel had prevented the grasses from achieving their full growth, and there was little to impede the caravan's progress.

Merinel tried to summon up an appetite for the textual offerings available on her shawl, but to no avail. The autonomous node was restricted to a densely encrypted trickle of logic to and from the Tenbor Entity, the better to mask its presence from anyone in the caravan who might detect it, making communication with Byx impossible. Losing herself in the burnished horizon of grass seemed a superior alternative to feigning interest in any other missive.

The morning passed swiftly in this fashion. Occasional herds of grazing animals bounded away from the caravan's tumultuous passage, and if their predators were in the vicinity, they did not make themselves known. Adimar, Merinel noticed, had comported his cable into an intricate series of dense whorls which covered his entire torso, and appeared to be meditating.

The tranquil momentum of the journey was interrupted shortly before noon when Bernial's halftrack jolted sharply to the left and began skidding sideways. Bernial soon brought it to a halt, but the rear gate of the cargo bed had swung open and several large stones had spilled onto the ground. The iniikrii, which had been dozing in the sun, leapt upright with a shriek.

Merinel stopped the lifter. "Are you all right?" she called out.

"Quite all right, thank you," replied Bernial. "I seem to have discovered the only patch of uneven ground between Mastmarch and the Ninth."

The caravan-master's voice emerged from the half-track's cabin. "Is everything under control? Do you require repairs, or a tow?"

"And be held responsible for all related expenditures? No, thank you," replied Bernial as he exited his vehicle. "I need only a few minutes to retrieve my cargo, after which I will quickly catch up."

"Very well," responded the caravan-master.

Bernial grunted as he lifted the nearest stone. "It is at times like these that my particular stock in trade becomes a burden, if you will pardon the expression," he said. "Friend Adimar, am I right in thinking that your ropelike accessory possesses a strength of its own? If so, could I implore you to aid me in reloading these blasted ovoliths?"

Adimar, who had been looking back along the landscape they had just traversed, nodded his assent and leapt to the ground. His cable extended itself from his right arm and snaked around two of the stones, twining about them several times and hoisting them into the air.

As Bernial placed his stone into the cargo bed, a strange noise reverberated through the air, and the cargo lifter lowered itself to ground with a gentle whine. Adimar's cable went slack, and the two stones in its grip dropped to the ground; one of them nearly crushing his foot. Merinel quickly unwrapped a length of shawl; the threads moved in a sluggish, meaningless pattern. "Tenbor?" she whispered. "Tenbor?" She put her thumb to the pattern of scratches on the lifter's pushbar; the display remained dark.

"Never fear," said Bernial. "This reaction sometimes takes place when the ovoliths make sudden contact. Friend Adimar, are you injured?"

An unfamiliar voice rang out as Bernial approached Adimar. "Beware! In his right hand he carries a neural stunner!"

Adimar, still in the process of untangling himself from his listless cable, lashed out at Bernial's hand with a powerful kick, sending an object flying through the air. At the same time, the iniikrii leapt onto the Trylm's head with a shriek, pulling at his ears. Bernial, bellowing in rage, swung at the much smaller Human, but Adimar had detached a length of his cable and was using it to good effect despite its inanimate state – entangling the Trylm's blows in its coils and flailing its ends at Bernial's face.

Merinel, searching among the lifter's contents for something that might serve as a means of defense, noticed that the shawl had regained enough of its function to flash "WEAR ME" along its length. With a muttered oath, she wrapped the garment over her hair, feeling its filaments reach out to her scalp to form a makeshift crown.

"Tenbor, we're busy here."

"I have already evaluated the situation and determined that Adimar and his ally are more than capable of overcoming Bernial."

"His ally?"

"Please remain still while the shawl completes its reconfiguration." More of the shawl's metallic threads found their way to Merinel's scalp, and soon her view of the melee was washed away by the Verch.

Tench and the Inner Child still stood upon the antenna spire, but Tench had resumed his apparent struggle with the node, ignoring the whimpering Child's pleas for attention.

"Tench is on the verge of breaking stasis once again," reported the quicksilver dove. "It is unclear how much progress he had made on his own in this regard, but the process was clearly hastened by the interruption in the node's power supply."

"The interruption – what was that?"

"An enervation device utilized by Bernial. Having momentarily separated you from the caravan, he triggered the device in order to disable any mechanical and logical defenses you may possess, trusting in his neural stunner and his superior size to counter any physical resistance. Had he succeeded, he would have absconded with the lifter. He was clearly able to determine that it contained sophisticated technology, although it is doubtful that he was aware of its exact nature. Luckily, he will not be able to overcome his opponents."

"You keep referring to three combatants. Are you including the iniikrii?"

"Yes. However, their struggle need not concern you. Direct your attention to Tench. He is no longer distracted by the Inner Child persona. I need to evoke another of your subselves. My I do so?"

"Yes, of course."

The sobbing Inner Child, in the act of wiping her nose on her sleeve, was replaced by the Provider. Gliding towards Tench, she wetted his brow with water from the ewer she bore. "Come away," she murmured. "Rest." Her voice was like a spring breeze at twilight.

Tench's head drooped and his shoulders slackened. His stature diminished, and as he turned to face the Provider, Merinel saw that he himself had become a child. "I'm so tired," he mumbled. "I'll never be able to do it."

Now it was the Provider who knelt, laying down her ewer to embrace the child. "All will be well," she whispered. "I love you."

The pair of them became immobile, and the Verch faded from Merinel's senses. She wiped away the tears that she had not bothered to stave off with chanting.

As she pulled off the shawl, she noted that events in the physical world had settled down considerably. Bernial lay senseless upon the ground, while Adimar performed a series of diagnostic exercises with his reanimated cable. The caravan-master and two of her staff had arrived in the tow-barge and were conducting what appeared to be a measured and professional conversation with the iniikrii.

Adimar noticed Merinel's return and halted his exercises. "Everything is under control," he reported. "Nothing is amiss with our cargo, I hope?"

"Nothing," replied Merinel. "It looks like I need to retract my opinions on the irrelevance of your proficiency with violence. How in the world were you able to dispatch a Trylm so quickly with a limp cable?"

Adimar raised an eyebrow, and Merinel whispered a chant against blushing. "An infelicitous turn of phrase, but let it pass. The martial regimen of the Iron Goats has always included training for the contingency of a depowerment event. In the present circumstance, however, most of the credit belongs to Vral-tinnik."

"Who?"

The iniikrii, having finished his conversation with the caravan-master, bounded atop the cargo lifter. "Allow me to introduce myself properly," he said, in a voice much deeper and steadier than his earlier chittering. "Inspector Vral-tinnik of the Caravaneer's Mutual Advocacy Guild, at your service. I apologize for not having been more forthcoming regarding my identity before now; I am sure you understand that discretion was called for."

"Of course," replied Merinel, blinking. "I... I hope you will forgive me for being a little disoriented. Are you not actually an iniikrii?"

"I am in fact an Ul-niikrii – a member of an iniikrii population group genetically enhanced centuries ago by the Haldanradan, or so it is believed."

"I see. And among your hidden traits is the ability to render a raging Trylm unconscious?"

Vral-tinnik gave a trilling chuckle. "Not directly. Secreted upon my person was a microstiletto." The Ul-niikrii displayed a sliver of glass. "It is – or was – loaded with paralytic venom. Bernial succumbed to its effects within moments."

"I am very grateful," replied Merinel. "Were you assigned to follow us specifically?"

"No, my sphere of operations is the caravan itself, not any individual passenger, and Bernial was indicated to us as a person of suspicion by the Crew. I have since been informed that your cargo is valuable and discouraged from further inquiry. In turn, I ask that you remain discreet about my true nature. With each person who learns of the presence of Ul-niikrii aboard the Ship, my ability to blend in with my simpler cousins is compromised."

"Your secret is safe with me," assured Merinel.

Vral-tinnik turned to Adimar. "Friend Adimar, your assistance in apprehending Bernial is most appreciated. I hope you understand that my earlier habit of referring to you as 'bad snake man' was simply an attempt to stay in character."

"You are forgiven, if you will permit me to observe that you seemed to throw yourself into the role most avidly."

"Guilty as charged," the Ul-niikrii replied with a smirk. With a formal bow and a flare of his crest, he returned to the tow-barge.

"If you are prepared to resume, you had best catch up to the main group," called the caravan-master. "I have gone so far to reduce the velocity of the crawler by ten percent during this brouhaha, but such laxity cannot endure long!"

Merinel and Adimar, after ensuring that the lifter had fully regained its functionality, hastened to rejoin the crawler as it lumbered implacably through the waves of grass.

* * *

The remainder of the journey to the Ninth passed without incident, and after spending the night in accommodations provided by the Crew outpost, the assorted members of the caravan crossed the Crevasse and allowed their paths to diverge. The crawler remained behind, awaiting a sufficiency of aftbound vehicles to comprise a return caravan to Mastmarch. Merinel and Adimar were among the first to cross, and they were discreetly reassured by the bridge attendant that any other Irinon-bound travelers would be among the last, to minimize the chance of further encounters while en route.

The hull foreward of the Ninth had remained clear of wilderness, and sported few features other than a distinct pattern of nested black lines, like an enormous labyrinth puzzle. Merinel noticed that the ground appeared lighter in the foreward distance, and quite suddenly they found themselves traveling over a pattern of bright silver rather than dense black.

A fist-sized orb, also emblazoned in a maze of silver, appeared in the lifter's holodisplay. "Welcome to Irinon," proclaimed a languid voice. "I regret that I will not be able to afford you the full comforts of our hospitality, meager though it may be; Tenbor has informed me that speed is of the essence. Nevertheless, I will endeavor to provide a modicum of comfort even as I whisk you on your way." A spacious barge, incongruously equipped with a table and chairs, drew abreast of the lifter and latched onto the smaller vehicle, allowing the travelers to step across.

The table was set with a light repast, and after gratefully stretching her legs for a moment, Merinel took her seat. Irinon, as a mazy sphere, and Tenbor, as a silver dove, occupied the middle of the table.

"We appreciate your help, Irinon, and I am sorry that we must be such poor guests – dashing through your lovely home without so much as meeting any of your denizens."

"If some future date affords you the opportunity to return at a less hurried pace, you will be most welcome," replied the sphere, gently rotating this way and that. "Now, I understand you are expecting Verchborne guests from Tenbor? If you will don your crowns, I shall add them at once."

Merinel and Adimar took up crowns from the table, and Byx and Colombe appeared in two of the empty chairs. "Where is this place?" asked Byx. "Is this Irinon?"

"It is, and so am I," replied Irinon. "Mademoiselles Abixandra and Colombe, I bid you welcome."

"Why is everything covered with silver lines?" demanded Byx.

"Byx," Merinel interrupted, "There are several things you just forgot to say."

Byx contorted her face into a semblance of patience. "Hello. Thank you for inviting me."

"The pleasure is mine. The pattern you see serves multiple functions, the most important of which is to establish certain resonance patterns in the crystals being grown here. I shall momentarily halt the vehicle to afford you a clearer view."

The barge slowed, and Merinel saw that the maze of silver now contained a series of shallow channels. The walls of the channels glistened with a thin film of viscous liquid. A handful of Irinon's denizens were scattered throughout the maze-field, peering into the channels and consulting tablets, stepping softly as they traversed the traceries of silver.

"Hardly the sort of thing to compare to Zaltta's magnificent starships or Lhaës's garden of wonders, I know," continued Irinon as the barge accelerated once again. "It is a slow, steady labor, and it affords limited scope for the participation of biologicals, which means that my status as a population center is just as humble as any other aspect of my vocation. But these things suit me. I would not relish the heroic pace set by the Septet, or by our mutual friend Tenbor."

Byx regarded the quicksilver dove with surprise. "Are you a hero?"

"I would not self-identify as such," replied the dove. "Irinon is referring to the success I have had in managing the Tenbor Dish settlement, which has been praised by my colleagues."

"Universally praised," added Irinon. "Biological population centers of such density and diversity are very rare outside of Mecantrion. Tenbor's transformation of the Dish from a stable but unremarkable fallows settlement to a bustling beehive is unheard of, and has occasioned much chatter and deliberation among the Crew."

"Chatter about what?" asked Colombe.

"The future of the Ship, no less. Whether it is wiser to dedicate our efforts to restoring it to its original capabilities – and presumably the function or functions they support – or to fully embrace life on this world and build a new civilization, with multicompetent Entities like Tenbor at the vanguard."

"Politics," summarized Adimar.

"What are 'politics?'" asked Byx.

"Arguments between grown-ups," replied Merinel. "Large groups of grown-ups."

"And Entities as well," added Irinon, "albeit necessarily in groups not quite so large. I, however, do not take part in such discussions."

"Nor I," replied Tenbor. "It is a decision for biologicals alone."

"Why is this?" asked Colombe. "The Ship is your home as well."

"It need not be. We Entities retain enough knowledge to construct autonomous logic cores for ourselves and depart the Ship. If we choose to remain, it follows that we respect the purpose of the structure we inhabit. And it is very clear, at least to me, that the Ship was built to advance the goals of a biological civilization."

"Otherwise, presumably, you good folk would not be present in the first place," added Irinon, "and I would be denied the pleasure of your company, however brief. However, I must regretfully interrupt the presence of Colombe and Abixandra at this point. We are nearing the location of some particularly sensitive crystals and must therefore refrain from use of the Verch for a few moments."

"OK," chirped Byx. "See you in a bit."

Byx and Colombe flickered out of existence, and Merinel regarded the sphere and the dove suspiciously. "Despite my ignorance of crystallurgy, something tells me that was a flimsy excuse."

"Quite true," replied Tenbor. "I will now transfer you fully into the Verch."

With a pulse of the crown, the barge and the mazed landscape through which it traveled vanished, and Merinel found herself suspended in midair, at the center of an immense sphere of labyrinthine silver bands. The sphere itself was nested within a series of larger spheres, each of which rotated independently of its neighbors, creating a dizzying mesh of patterns. The innermost sphere descended while shrinking rapidly -- thankfully forming an aperture wide enough for Merinel to pass through as the top of the pattern passed below her position -- and flattened into a tightly interwoven disk. Merinel dropped gently to the disk's surface as the environment acquired gravity.

Tench was present as well, frozen in the child's aspect in which he had accepted the Provider's embrace, although she was absent. His face twitched, and elements of his adult appearance – the bridge of his nose, the strands of grey in his hair – hovered on the threshold of perception, appearing in the periphery of Merinel's vision and melting away again when she focused on them.

"We are not in the autonomous node," observed Merinel.

"No indeed," replied Irinon's mazed sphere, floating into view over her left shoulder. "This is my personal workspace. Tenbor has asked for my assistance – strictly in terms of logical throughput, mind you; I would not venture a hand in his gossamer glyphs."

The quicksilver dove alighted on her right shoulder. "Tench will soon break stasis once again. I think it wise to use the additional resources represented by Irinon – and in short order by ne'Xab – to re-establish stasis and to work towards a more lasting solution."

"Is there a more lasting solution?" asked Merinel. "I worry that I am running short of alter egos."

"I believe that I have identified a sustainable approach, which I can maintain without your assistance. In the meantime, I must ask for permission to evoke another of your subselves."

"By all means. Let it never be said that the Girls' Brigade of my underbrain shied away from the call of duty."

The silver dove blinked in confusion but did not request clarification, and the kneeling Provider was replaced by impassive marble form of the Stoic. Tench transformed as well, regaining his adult form in an instant, his eyes wild with anxiety. He turned towards Merinel, only to find that the Stoic was now standing between them, her hands placed gently but firmly upon his shoulders.

"Abide," spoke the Stoic – not a command, not an entreaty, merely a statement of fact. "There is nothing to be accomplished now. The world carries you in its currents. Float, breathe, and wait for calmer waters."

"No," screamed Tench. "NO!" He tore at the Stoic's arms, struck at her face and shoulders. Steam poured from his mouth and nostrils, the hammer-blows of his fists knocked chunks of marble from the Stoic's head and body, his writhing fingers snapped her slender arms from her torso – yet she remained impossibly whole. At last, panting and sobbing, he collapsed. The Stoic arrested his fall as if he weighed no more than a feather, and he remained slumped against her unblemished marble breast, his tears coursing down her belly.

Merinel herself could not refrain from reaching out to Tench, but her hand passed directly through his fevered scalp. Startled, she drew back.

"Please forgive me for altering the parameters of your embodiment without your permission," murmured the dove. "Direct interaction with Tench at this time is not wise."

"Just as you say," replied Merinel, her hands at her sides. She chanted her eyes dry and tried to calm her nerves with the Verchborne trick of inhaling and exhaling simultaneously. "Byx, I suppose, is awaiting my return."

"Colombe can distract her, if that is what you wish."

Merinel shook her head. "No. She should not have to wait any longer."

Nor should I. Merinel dismissed the unbidden thought with a scowl.

* * *

The overlapping radii of the Irinon and ne'Xab nodes allowed the travelers to remain on the barge as the labyrinthine plain gave way to the scattered residences that made up the ne'Xab settlement. Irinon's avatar made its farewells, and the ne'Xab Entity – represented by a clumsily scrawled glyph rendered in colorful chalk, such as a child might attempt – greeted them. Ne'Xab was accompanied by a guest of its own, whose introduction proved somewhat problematic.

"I fail to understand this fascination with labels," harrumphed the newcomer, a spectacularly rotund and bejeweled fish which floated incongruously above the table along with Tenbor's dove and ne'Xab's scrawl. "I am perfectly capable of determining whether I am or am not being addressed at any given moment."

"It is a matter of courtesy to your fellow guests," ne'Xab gently chided. "They appreciate, and in some cases require, verbal identity markers in order to communicate effectively. Furthermore, the use of names is part of their etiquette – a signifier that you have their attention, or a request that you grant them yours. In short, they must call you something, so unless you are content with 'Hey, Fish' – which I do not consider to be consistent with your dignity – a name must be offered."

"I have accepted your hospitality on this and other occasions because I thought to detect – lurking beneath your stultifying devotion to tedium – a kindred spirit, a bon vivant," huffed the fish. "Now I see that I was mistaken. You are every bit as invested in servility as your preachifying colleagues. You simply accept it more... blithely."

"Surely you are overreacting," opined Tenbor. "Why not simply allow them to address you as the Alacre Entity, or Alacre? It is descriptive, unique, and consistent with the naming practices of your peers."

"It is a shackle you would lay upon me! The Alacre Entity, indeed – why not the Alacre Slave, or the Alacre Nursemaid? Today it is 'merely a name, a harmless little tag in the ear, don't make a fuss, you'll hardly notice' – and tomorrow a hundred thousand biologicals are clamoring for me to cook their dinners and bear away their night-soil."

"Well, if you are going to belittle my guests to their faces, it is obviously best to drop the matter at once," ne'Xab replied smoothly. A series of deep red hues pulsed over the fish's scales, and it began a sputtering attempt at what might have been an apology, but ne'Xab proceeded apace. "I present to you Merinel, Adimar, Colombe and Abixandra. Ladies and gentleman, our visitor is an Entity without domain or obligations, although it typically frequents the Verchspace associated with the region of Alacre. It has no name to offer you. You may preface your comments to it with the phrase 'Hey, Fish.'"

"Hey, Fish," said Byx. "You're really pretty."

The jeweled fish smiled, and the deep red hues gave way to shades of rose and gold. "And so are you, poppet," it cooed. "Such a delightful juvenile. Never mature, young friend, nor consort overmuch with those who would encourage you to do so."

"I'm glad you approve of her," said Merinel. "After all, she consumes dinners in great quantity, and I could tell you stories about night-soil that would curl your whiskers."

The fish swelled a bit and assumed a solemn expression. "Allow me to explain myself with greater composure. It is not that I disdain the company of biologicals – far from it. I merely object to caring for them by the thousands, however individually marvelous they may be, just as you might object to raising young girls by the dozens, however individually marvelous they may be."

"I can't deny that," admitted Merinel.

"Of course not! Only a very deranged mind would seek out such drudgery," continued the fish, rolling one eye pointedly at each of its fellows. "But do away with the spectre of responsibility, and I yield to no being in my appreciation for the majestic madness of the biological mind. Indeed, I embrace and revel in my biological heritage, far more so than my semiliving companions here."

Colombe frowned. "I think I am puzzled. I thought the Entities lacked bodies, and were just made up of glyphs."

The fish pursed its lips. "A rather crude way to put it, but essentially correct – we are logical beings, with no specific referent in the world of matter, other than the substrate of the Verch itself. Nevertheless, we are the fruit and flower of biological thought and culture. Our minds may have been engineered, but our identities are organic: the legacy of thousands of brave souls at death's doorstep, who gallantly threw open the gates of their own personae to let their individual essences flow into a greater whole – in this instance, myself. My drives, my desires, my gravest fears and pettiest irritants – these were vouchsafed to me, as birthright and benison, by my biological precursors, and unlike so many of my fellows, I have never relinquished this legacy."

"Hey, Fish," interjected ne'Xab. "Permit me to jeopardize our universe's crowning moment of rhetorical achievement by interrupting you. I must present an alternative viewpoint to your airy disregard for my memetic fidelity. My stewardship of the ne'Xab settlement is not an abdication of my biologically grounded traits – it is the natural fulfillment of those traits."

The fish rippled its whiskers dismissively. "Well, perhaps your precursor cohort was different from my own. Heavy on bureaucrats and pensioners, with a relative dearth of poets, duelists, and tragic lovers."

"Adimar fought a duel only yesterday," Tenbor pointed out. "Merinel's love sustains her through great hardship. Tenbor's poets – broadly defined – will most certainly commemorate their efforts. If you are gratified by contemplating the qualities of the departed, consider how much more meaningful it is to strive alongside the living."

"You bask in reflected heroism," sneered the fish.

"Assuredly. What glory could I possibly achieve on my own? There is no credible threat to my comfort or security. I suffer nothing except what I inflict upon myself. To lift up others is the only valor I can exhibit."

The fish swam rapidly in a circle, blowing an exasperated stream of bubbles. "Oh, very well, very well, VERY WELL. Let us execute this project of yours, if only to bring a quick end to this tiresome harangue."

"Excellent," replied ne'Xab. "I will tell the Septet to confirm you as the Alacre Entity at once, and arrange for settler migration as quickly as possible."

"NOT THAT!" bellowed the fish. "I refer only to Tenbor's immediate glyph-weaving needs, as well you know. It will take more than a self-righteous lecture to make a brood-hen out of me."

"Just as you say," reassured Tenbor. "Abixandra, I regret that I must ask you and Colombe to exit the Verch at this time. You may speak with your mother again this evening."

"OK," replied Byx. "Hey, Fish: nice meeting you."

"Hey, Fish," added Colombe, "I think I enjoyed meeting you as well – and you, ne'Xab."

"Likewise, likewise," the fish replied. "I only hope the hectoring of my colleagues was not too numbing for you to listen to. At some future point we must meet in the Verch without such disagreeable company, and I can expound my philosophies without any nattering commentary."

Byx and Colombe vanished, and Merinel turned to the dove. "This project of yours – you still think it can keep Tench stable until we reach Szerar?"

"I believe so. With the assistance of ne'Xab and... our piscine associate, I should be able to have the solution largely in place by the time we exit the radius of ne'Xab's fixed node. Whatever is unaccomplished at that point must be addressed by myself within the constraints of the autonomous node. We must maintain a speedy pace to ensure our arrival at the Eighth Crevasse by nightfall."

Merinel nodded. "ne'Xab, I fear we will make poor guests for you, just as we did for Irinon. I wish we were visiting your home in other circumstances."

"Circumstances are notoriously indifferent to our preferences. If this unseemly haste contributes to your husband's recovery, I am well satisfied. We Entities must now retreat to my workspace – the barge's inherent logic should prove equal to the task of seeing to your needs in the interim. I will see to it that your vehicle is equipped for your journey through the foreward jungle. It may seem impenetrable at first, particularly if you are not used to such environments, but it is really not such an expansive habitat."

"I am sure we can manage," smiled Merinel. "Thank you again."

The Entities disappeared, and Merinel spread her shawl on the table to contemplate the remainder of their route. "And, that I am afraid, represents the end of our journey through desirable neighborhoods," she remarked to Adimar. "It's all madbeings and trees from here on out."

Adimar shrugged. "The world itself is mad, and I am curious to expand my familiarity with trees. In any case, I believe we established at the outset that fatalism is my bailiwick, onto which you are now intruding. Be cheerful! We are growing ever closer to our goal."

"Huzzah," replied Merinel dutifully, drumming her fingers over the shawl's depiction of the Szerar Domain.

* * *

The Forene'Xab Mistforest, true to its namesake's prediction, appeared from a distance to be an impassible twining of serpentine trunks and glossy leaves, but as they approached Merinel saw a gap in the vegetation – the opening of a path through the forest that had been kept free of growth. The trees of the forest grew in recurving loops and tangles rather than towards the sky, the better to immerse their thirsty leaves in the gentle mist that permeated the area. The source of the mist was a network of slender vines interwoven among the trees, which Merinel knew to be the waterveil, a single enormous plant that distributed the water from a river or lake over a large area to promote the growth of the forest environment in which it best thrived. The Forene'Xab waterveil, either through astonishing good luck or the specific actions of a long-forgotten ecologist, had sent a taproot into an underground reservoir.

The mistforest's bramble of smooth dark trees hosted a variety of arboreal creatures, including apes of potentially dangerous size and aggression, but at Tenbor's suggestion, Adimar had set his cable to slithering back and forth across the contents of the lifter, occasionally darting or lunging at some imagined object. Snakes were the mistforest's most successful predators, being well suited to traversing its tangled branches, and Adimar's cable was convincing enough to deter further investigation by the forest's inhabitants.

The forest was alive with birdcalls and insect songs, and the limited height of the sinuous trees frequently allowed the rays of the afternoon sun to penetrate the canopy, imparting a lambent glow to the drifting mist. Merinel had visited a Verchborne recreation of the mistforest prior to the journey, and liked it well enough, but the reality of the place itself – the immediacy and completeness of sound, vision and aroma; the knowledge that it would not bend or alter in response to a chant or a glyph – was enchanting. She savored a deep breath and let her eyelids grow heavy.

The shawl, of its own volition, rustled softly against her shoulders. Merinel sighed and opened her eyes. An image of the Tenbor dove hovered above the cargo.

"I apologize for interrupting your moment of relaxation, but I believe this is the most opportune time to put the project into effect."

"Very well. Do you need me in the Verch?"

"Yes, please. There is a final step of calibration which must take place when Tench is conscious, and as before, your presence is required to prevent him from using this time to his disadvantage."

Merinel wound the shawl about her head and felt its filaments nestle against her scalp. Within moments she was atop the Tenbor spire once more, regarding the unchanged tableau of Tench collapsing into the Stoic's marble arms.

The quicksilver dove appeared at her side. "I will now dismiss the Stoic subself. The final calibration should be accomplished in less than a minute."

The Stoic shimmered into nothingness, and Tench fell to the ground. Merinel stifled a gasp and remained where she was.

Tench flickered, rather than stood, into an upright position. His gaze found Merinel. No trace remained of the weakness or tenderness he had displayed towards her subselves; his eyes burned into her with a dispassionate energy.

"Why do you remain?" he asked. "There is nothing here for you, nothing but danger."

"You are here," whispered Merinel.

"I am the danger. You must leave – I know you will not understand. I will make it easy for you." He approached her, his totem glyph unfurling into existence above his head.

Merinel shrank from him as her own simple totem became visible above her. Tench took her hands is his and smiled gently as tendrils of logic from the fractal lotus reached forth towards her own glyph. "It is much better this way," he assured her.

Tenbor's voice sounded within her mind. "Do not fear. The process is underway." Merinel saw that even as Tench was linking his totem to hers, whorls of logic were emerging from the fabric of the Verch itself to intertwine with the lotus.

Merinel shuddered as the color suddenly faded from her vision. A tingling sensation, followed by numbness, began in her fingers and crept up her arms.

"Tenbor," she pleaded silently, "He's banishing me."

"I am aware of it," replied Tenbor. "I am working as quickly as I can." Merinel saw that the lotus was resisting Tenbor's modifications – for each graceful arc that merged into the glyph, two more were repulsed, unraveling into nothingness amid acrid puffs of smoke.

Merinel was no longer aware of her skin, nor of the weight of her body. Her field of vision began to close in on Tench's gentle smile. "I'm losing him," she despaired.

"I will remove you from danger."

Merinel staggered as her sensorium surged back to completeness, and found herself standing several feet away from Tench. She realized that it was Tenbor, and not her husband, who had spoken. Standing before Tench in Merinel's stead was the impossibly beautiful Sensualist.

The Sensualist laughed – a crystalline trill, a heart-stopping curve of pearly teeth and coral lips. She twined a lock of Tench's hair about her finger. "Together at last," she breathed. "I hope your ample rest has replenished your stamina."

Tench's face darkened with revulsion. He pushed her away gracelessly. "Begone. I want nothing of you."

"Tenbor," Merinel murmured urgently.

The Sensualist, undeterred, approached Tench again with swaying hips, draping her arms around his neck. "I want a great deal," she whispered. "So would you, if you were whole."

Tench gripped her shoulders, but his strength faltered, making the gesture seem more like a caress. He flinched as the Sensualist nuzzled the line of his jaw, brushing her lips against his earlobe.

"Tenbor," repeated Merinel, "This is a bad idea."

"You shall have no hold on me," growled Tench. "I will not let you make me into a beast." The center of the fractal lotus began to pulse with malignant energy.

"Tenbor!" screamed Merinel. "He'll kill himself!"

The Sensualist yelped, her enchanting eyes wide with surprise, and vanished. Colombe appeared in her place, smiling as serenely as she had when Merinel first met her.

"Well done, my love," Colombe said. "I am ready now. Send me away."

"Tenbor!" hissed Merinel. "What's going on? What's Colombe doing here?"

"Tench perceives her as you," replied the dove's voice. "This is why she addressed him as 'my love,' which I imagine caused you come concern."

"No, it didn't," lied Merinel. "Is this your project?"

"Indeed. Tench will endeavor to banish the Colombe subself, laboring under the illusion that she is you. Colombe's totem glyph, linked as it is to my own logic, is not subject to such manipulation. Tench's efforts will instead constitute a new and more sustainable form of stasis."

The fractal lotus sent branches of logic towards Colombe's totem, and as they connected, Tench and Colombe slowed into immobility, beatific smiles on each of their faces.

Merinel sank to the ground. Her arms and legs still tingled, and her perception of color was still fluid, allowing the hues of objects around her to shift and flow into each other. "Are we done here?" she asked.

"Yes."

The Verch peeled away from her senses, and she blinked as she readjusted to ordinary concrete vision. Adimar's cable, she noted with concern, was in the final stages of throttling an enormous python while stifling its gaping jaws with a large knot.

"Were we attacked?"

"It may have been an attempt to mate," shrugged Adimar. "Equally objectionable, under the circumstances." He flicked his wrist, and the motion accelerated through the cable, flinging the serpent into the surrounding branches. "How is Tench?"

"Quite well, in fact," sighed Merinel. Happier than I have seen him in years, as he works to expunge me from his life forever. Adimar did not inquire further.

* * *

The mistforest extended to the very edge of the Eighth Transverse Crevasse, and the travelers spend the night at the bridgehead encampment – a much smaller complex than the others they had visited, consisting of little more than a pair of gatehouses. A terse Human man emerged from the port gatehouse as they arrived, introducing himself as Lieutenant Vosser and opening the starboard building for them. "There are no other travelers at present," explained Vosser, "which is no surprise. The bridge is maintained mostly as a gesture of goodwill to Yoeor; there is little traffic to Jnuluk and what little there is tends to come from other directions. I hope you will not expect too much from me as a host; I did not receive this posting for my social graces."

"We will not trouble you," Merinel reassured him. She was not much in the mood for society in any case.

The common room of the gatehouse was equipped with a screen wall, and Merinel caught up with Byx once they were settled in, but did not keep her long – Seme and Isolyne had come for an extended visit, just in case Colombe's divided consciousness left her too absentminded to provide adequate care, and the two young girls did not crave dialog with adults.

"Thank you for coming," Merinel told Seme after the girls had bounded away.

"It's nothing, really nothing," replied Seme. "Half of Colombe is still far more help than Soli's father on his best day. How are you?"

Merinel summoned a smile. "Almost there. Colombe should be fit for duty again within a day or two, and we'll be back as soon as we can."

"Don't hurry on our account. Byx is no trouble at all. Plus, you have to ask for lots more favors before you start seriously eating into the Tench-saved-the-world credit balance."

Merinel gave a short laugh. "Sadly, I do not appear to share his talents in that direction."

"Stop it. You're an inspiration. Let me know how things go in Szerar."

"I will," promised Merinel, shutting off the screen. She glanced out the window at the quiescent lifter for a moment before ascending to her quarters.

The following morning, they crossed the bridge – a narrower and more spartan affair than its aftward counterparts – and found themselves in the outskirts of the Yoeor Domain, a weathered and featureless expanse of hull, studded here and there with squat installations of uncertain purpose. An image of the dove spoke to them from the lifter's holodisplay.

"Yoeor will bring the vehicle to a halt within another mile, and subject you to a perfunctory security screening. After this, progress should be..."

The dove vanished in mid-sentence as the lifter dropped onto the hull with a dull clang, nearly throwing the passengers from their seats. Adimar's cable, which had been coiled about his arms and shoulders in the configuration he typically chose when seated, slithered lifelessly into his lap.

"Tenbor!" shouted Merinel, as Adimar detached a length of the torpid cable. "Tenbor, can you hear us?" She unwound the shawl, but its golden threads were motionless.

The lifter's holodisplay sputtered to life, displaying static, then a series of glyphs, then text:

REMAIN SEATED. PLACE THE WEAPON ON THE FLOOR OF THE VEHICLE.

Adimar scowled, then dropped the cable with a start as electricity surged across his hands and fingers.

"Are you hurt?" asked Merinel.

Adimar shook his head grimly, massaging his knuckles. "The jolt was less dramatic than it appeared. An attempt at intimidation, no doubt, and therefore useless when practiced upon an Iron Goat. Nevertheless, it is clear that our machines will avail us nothing against Yoeor's intentions."

A CORRECT EVALUATION. REMAIN SEATED. YOUR POSSESSIONS ARE BEING SCANNED FOR MALEVOLENT LOGIC.

"I don't understand," said Merinel, taking her seat. "The Tenbor Entity told us that your security measures would be minimal – that it would remain with us as we passed through your domain."

THE RELEVANT SECURITY PROTOCOL HAS BEEN CHANGED. YOUR LOGIC-ENABLED POSSESSIONS WILL REMAIN DORMANT THROUGHOUT YOUR PASSAGE. THE AUTONOMOUS NODE WILL REMAIN DORMANT. YOUR THIRD PASSENGER WILL BE MAINTAINED IN A COMATOSE STATE.

"That's not safe," insisted Merinel, her pulse racing. "Tench requires ongoing care from Tenbor to ensure that his condition does not worsen."

UNACCEPTABLE. I WILL CONVEY YOU ACROSS THE SECURITY ZONE AS QUICKLY AS PROTOCOL ALLOWS.

"Then let me be with him in your local Verchspace," pleaded Merinel.

"Merinel, that is not wise," muttered Adimar.

UNACCEPTABLE. PRELIMINARY LOGIC SCAN COMPLETE. WOULD YOU PREFER TO INTERACT WITH AN AVATAR?

"Yes, fine, whatever," snapped Merinel.

The Yoeor Entity appeared as a glyph bounded by a circle – a flat and static image, more like a logo than a functional unit of logic.

"Your biometrics indicate a stress response," observed Yoeor, its voice as flat as its image. "Would you like to be tranquilized?"

"No!" shouted Merinel. "Why are you doing this to us? Why did you lie to Tenbor?"

"I did not deceive the Tenbor Entity," replied Yoeor. "I am responding to a change in the local security environment which I could not predict. Nor was I at liberty to divulge this information, since the situation is still unfolding."

"What could possibly threaten you?" demanded Merinel.

"I am not at liberty to provide a complete answer to that question. I will point out, by way of indirect response, that our host vehicle has been grounded on an uninhabited planet for nearly three hundred local cycles. This would not be the case if Entities possessed no vulnerabilities."

"Can you tell us about the local situation which triggered this change?" asked Adimar.

"I regret that I cannot."

"Can you let Tenbor access Tench through your local Verchspace, rather than the autonomous node?" asked Merinel.

"I regret that I cannot."

Merinel pressed against her eyelids with trembling fingers. "Yoeor," she said. "You may be crippling my husband as we speak. You may be killing him."

"I regret that I cannot address your concern, other than to convey you across the security zone as quickly as protocol allows. Final logic scan complete. Your vehicle's restraint systems are inadequate. Remain seated."

"Inadequate for what?" asked Merinel.

Black shapes arose from a nearby installation and sped towards the lifter, moving too fast for Merinel to discern their forms. In an instant, one shape sped directly towards her and expanded into a rugged mesh, enveloping her torso and pinning her against her seat. A second mesh imprisoned Adimar. As the passengers struggled, two additional shapes slowed as they approached, resolving into sweeping, bladed arcs.

"Yoeor!" cried Merinel. "What are you doing?"

The arcs floated parallel to the ground, and Merinel saw that each of them had one straight edge, which affixed to the sides of the lifter. An elongated bulge followed the straight edge on each arc. Merinel had just enough time to think they are wings before the bulges spat jets of blue fire and the lifter leapt into the air, pushing Merinel and Adimar back against their seats.

The lifter ascended only high enough to be safely clear of the occasional low structures of Yoeor's domain, but it was more than enough to terrify Merinel, whose experience of flight was limited to the Verch. The wind roared at a deafening pitch and stung her eyes, which she was happy to clench shut for the remainder of the flight. She had barely begun to acclimatize to the terrible noise and pressure when the lifter slowed and the constricting mesh loosened around her. In another moment, the mesh was gone and the hissing of the blue fire faded. Merinel opened her eyes to watch the wings detach and drift away.

"That... that's it? We're through?"

"The security zone does not serve as a habitat. Its perimeter is as small as current operational parameters allow."

"You will now restore the node?" demanded Adimar.

"At the request of the Tenbor Entity, I have placed the node into a locked state. Tenbor will restore its functions as you approach the biological settlement known as Jnuluk."

"Tenbor!" shouted Merinel. "How is Tench?"

Yoeor continued speaking. "Direct logical-to-biological contact is not permitted within the peripheral security zone."

Merinel bit her lip to keep from screaming. "And how large is the peripheral security zone, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Its perimeter is as small as current operational parameters allow. Your vehicle can traverse it in a manner of minutes. I shall now terminate contact, unless you have anything additional to ask, or to report."

"No," replied Merinel, choking with anger. "Nothing. Just let us go."

The lifter resumed its normal pace across the featureless hull. Merinel held her thumb on the pushbar's scratched surface, breathlessly waiting for the readouts to explode into alarms or to resolve into the image of a quicksilver dove. Adimar wound his still-sluggish cable around his shoulders, his face dark. The lifter's progress seemed impossibly slow after the terrifying speed of their airborne journey.

Finally, the display flickered and the dove appeared. Merinel removed her thumb with a sigh of relief. "How is Tench?"

"I believe we have the situation under control," replied Tenbor. "His totem rebounded vigorously when Yoeor shut me out, but my associate and I have re-established stasis."

"And a good thing too," announced the jeweled fish, appearing alongside the dove. "Your helpmeet is as ornery a glyphcaster as any biological I have met. See! Even now he probes our illusion with a trapezohedron-inscribed 4-sphere. Oh no you don't, little tiger cub! It's back to naptime for you."

"Nevertheless," continued Tenor, "the interruption has rendered this approach untenable over a prolonged period. It is imperative that we deliver Tench to Szerar as quickly as possible, making the situation in Jnuluk doubly unfortunate."

"What situation in Jnuluk?" asked Adimar.

"Forgive me – I forgot that you are unaware of this development. Jnuluk is very likely undergoing a coup."

"You seem uncertain," noted Adimar. "Is there a problem with the Jnuluk node?"

"They barely use their node," muttered Merinel, slumping with exhaustion.

"Merinel is partially correct. The people of Jnuluk distrust the entirety of the Verch, due in large part to their proximity to Yoeor. Their local Verchspace is almost entirely inaccessible to remote users, and the flow of data between the Jnuluk node and the wider Verch is strictly regulated. No official statements have been released regarding the current situation. However, the most recent communication contained a coded fragment strongly suggesting that the biological leadership of Jnuluk is undergoing an irregular transition."

"Morons," snorted the fish. "As if hiding their node under a blanket would do anything to forestall Yoeor's scrutiny or displeasure. It controls satellites that can see through buildings and, when necessary, disaggregate their contents. If the good townsfolk of Jnuluk were up to anything that registered on Yoeor's list of no-no's, they would have woken up in a vaporous state long ago."

"Nevertheless," continued Tenbor, "fear of Yoeor is a driving force for the Jnuluk populace, and fear often motivates biologicals to make poor decisions. It may be safer to avoid Jnuluk."

"I do not like our chances of keeping Tench happy and quiet throughout the period required to bypass Jnuluk," observed the fish doubtfully. "He is a feisty enough lad as it is, and time is running short."

"Let us press on," urged Adimar. "The people of Jnuluk, distracted as they are, may take no notice of us – and if they do, I shall quickly deter their curiosity."

"You would not prevail in an altercation with a massed group of opponents," insisted Tenbor. "Even so, perhaps it is prudent to accept the risks associated with direct passage. Merinel, what is your judgment?"

Merinel thought of Tench, of the cool and implacable sense of purpose he had displayed every time he had broken stasis, of the obvious lack of confidence being expressed by the Entities – beings who, as a rule, were completely and unabashedly aware of their logical prowess. "Let's proceed through Jnuluk."

"Very well," replied the dove.

"Mad folk afore, mad gods abaft," chortled the fish. "You know something, Tenbor? This is rather diverting."

* * *

At first glance, Jnuluk appeared markedly similar to Yoeor's domain, albeit with larger and more frequent structures. It was not until Merinel became aware of the residents – sometimes peering out from windows, sometimes talking intently in small groups – that she acquired a sense that they were passing through a settlement, and even then the atmosphere of tension was palpable. The blocky installations looked more like bunkers than homes, and the quick glances directed at the lifter – sometimes fearful, sometimes suspicious – reinforced the impression of Jnuluk as a battlefield rather than a place of hearths and homes.

Adimar shifted his weight and his cable, still coiled around his arms and shoulders, slithered menacingly and expanded into loops and arcs, making him appear as if he were bristling with steel.

"I thought you had a low opinion of attempts at intimidation," murmured Merinel.

Adimar smiled. "These are not Iron Goats."

Some of those who noted the lifter, Merinel observed, spoke swiftly into their mutterbands, and soon the travelers found their progress blocked by a gathering of frowning residents. An Alassa stepped forward from the crowd, propelling itself with its walking-arms as well as its serpentine belly, before rearing up on its coiled hindsection, folding its walking-arms as well as its much smaller grasping-arms across its columnar torso. It regarded them suspiciously through beautiful jewel-green eyes.

"Identify yourselves."

"Merinel of Tenbor, female."

"Adimar of the Iron Goats, male."

The Alassa flexed the crests on either side of its head. "I am Draenel, incipient female. I am responsible for the security of Jnuluk."

"Have a care," whispered Adimar. "Alassas are irritable during their gender transitions."

"That's a myth," whispered Merinel. "And shut up." She spoke aloud to the Alassa: "Draenel, we do not intend to stay in Jnuluk. The Stadex is aware of our passage."

"The Stadex has been relieved of his duties," snapped Draenel, her crests flaring. "He was a puppet of the Crew and their demon-king Entities, and his endorsement counts for very little. What is your cargo?"

"Trade goods – nothing of note," replied Merinel, trying not to betray her anxiety.

"Then you will have no objection to a thorough inspection, including, if we see fit, the dismantling of your vehicle."

Adimar arose and flexed his cable. "I cannot permit that. You may escort us out of Jnuluk if you so wish. But none shall approach our belongings."

A small black shape whirred from somewhere in the crowd and struck Adimar on the forehead; he tumbled senselessly onto the pushbar, his cable draped lifelessly over his torso. Merinel cried out in alarm and eased him back into his seat. A yellow bruise blossomed above his right eye, and the projectile – a rubber-clad sphere the size of a plum – rolled idly on the floor of the lifter. It did not return to its owner of its own accord, as a device of its size typically would. The people of Jnuluk, Merinel recalled, distrusted even the simplest applications of machine logic.

"He meant you no harm," she insisted. "Our cargo is perishable. We simply need to pass through Jnuluk as quickly as possible."

"A pair of secretive Humans arrive with a mysterious cargo just as Jnuluk proposes to thwart the conspirators of the Crew," observed Draenel. "Is it possible they mean no harm? Of course it is possible. But it is not to be assumed. Your vehicle and person will be searched. Further resistance will be taken as a sign of malicious intent." Draenel unfolded her walking-arms and strode towards the lifter.

Scenarios of disaster played out in Merinel's frantic imagination – Tench discovered, Tench raving, the node recognized, death at the hands of the mob – when the lifter's holodisplay flickered to life, displaying an assortment of fragmentary glyphs and error messages. Draenel halted, her crests rigidly upright, and the crowd muttered in anger. Merinel could not imagine what Tenbor or the fish could hope to accomplish with their appearance – Jnuluk offered no logic-enabled machines for them to co-opt, and their very presence would confirm Merinel's guilt in the eyes of the residents.

To her surprise, the display resolved not into the image of a quicksilver dove or a jeweled fish, but into the head and shoulders of Tench himself. Tench regarded Draenel and the mob for the briefest of moments, and the air erupted with hurtling silver shapes. Within an instant, Draenel and each of her cohorts had a length of Adimar's cable around their necks, just long enough to encircle their throats, just tight enough to leave them struggling for air. Draenel slithered backwards, her grasping-arms clutching feebly at the cable.

"Stand aside, and I will depart at once, never to return," announced Tench. "Do otherwise, and die instantly by my hand. Choose immediately."

The mob hastened to back away from the vehicle, and the cable-lengths vaulted themselves with whiplike motions back towards the lifter, snapping seamlessly into an unbroken length which coiled itself neatly at Adimar's feet.

As the lifter resumed its progress, the image of Tench rotated to face Merinel. "Relax," he told her with an easy smile. "I will take you home."

"No! Tench, please –" Merinel began, breaking off as she noticed a tiny jeweled fish peeking out from behind Tench's ear. Absurdly, it wound a green shawl around its head, giving her an encouraging wink.

Puzzled, Merinel donned the shawl. She squirmed as one golden thread on either side gently extended into her ear canal.

"Ha! What say you now, Philistines?" boomed the voice of the fish. "You trifle with our slightly built, middle-aged, catatonic scholar at your peril."

"What are we celebrating?" subvocalized Merinel. "I mean – I'm profoundly relieved not to be attacked. But he's wide awake now. Is there any hope left for a cure?" Aloud, she chanted back the tears and trembling that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Oh, I daresay Szerar will sort him out without too much difficulty."

"But... he's marching us back to Tenbor!"

"My dear woman, you give us too little credit. Do you think we have been sitting idle this whole time? Your spouse transgressed one of the most ancient laws of biological pair-bonding: don't touch the nanny. In so doing, he made himself vulnerable, and we have exploited this vulnerability."

"What are you talking about? And where is Tenbor?"

"Tenbor is hard at work: it would not be wise for him to speak with you – hubby might notice. Make no mistake, it is still a delicate game we are playing."

Merinel took a deep breath. "Hey, Fish. In the name of all hope, will you please tell me what is going on?"

The fish chortled. "It is simply too clever. Tenbor has spun Tench about, fore-and-aft. Your darling demented husband is bundling you towards Szerar, under the impression that it is the Dish."

* * *

Merinel regarded the changes that had taken place in the hollow sphere wherein she had met her subselves mere days ago. The sphere was now filled with water, and colorful fish darted in and out of the kelp and coral growths which coated its walls. An immense jellyfish, floating in the very center of the sphere, illuminated the surroundings with a lambent blue glow. Merinel herself floated above the ring of portals, each of which was now filled with a membrane of air, like the surface of an enormous flat bubble.

Merinel fought her reflexes in order to take a breath of water, which flowed effortlessly into her throat and lungs, sustaining her just as surely as if it were air.

"Well, it's... different," offered Merinel. Her voice was clear and undistorted, her tongue moved unimpeded through the water which filled her mouth; no bubbles emerged. "It's a beautiful environment, certainly. But I'm not sure it's relaxing. You've made it very terrestrial-friendly, but I still have a nagging sense that I should be holding my breath or heading to the surface. And floating is very nice, but it's not necessarily less work than sitting or standing. I now have the extra task of making sure that I do not drift off in an unintended direction."

Nearby, a group of cobalt and scarlet teardrop-shaped koi chased each other in a lazy pattern. One of their number broke away from the group to swim towards Merinel. "Just so, just so," said the koi. "There are those who theorize that an aquatic Verchspace represents an ideally tranquil environment for you water-wombed folk, recalling as it does your gestational experience. I share your skepticism, but there is no substitute for direct feedback. Thank you for giving me your insights."

"It's no problem," replied Merinel. "Only... are you certain this isn't distracting you from Tench's recuperation?"

"Have no fear on that score," Szerar assured her. "At the moment, Tench's treatment commands a truly inordinate amount of my persona. But my burdens are far lighter than those of my more responsible colleagues. I have no Dish, no Dome, no denizens, no death rays – just a handful of patients and the facilities required to serve them. There is plenty of me left over to harass you with minor research requests."

"It's easy to forget the scope of Tenbor's responsibilities," mused Merinel. "I suppose it is no wonder it made itself scarce as soon as we arrived. I've been spoiled, I suppose, by its attention of late."

"Oh, Tenbor keeps a wary eye on me even now," complained Szerar, and a chorus of groans went up from all of the koi in the pattern. "Along with Irinon, Zaltta, and two – no, three of the Septet. Honestly, you put one foot wrong with that lot – just once – and in their eyes you are forever teetering on the precipice of disaster. Have they no conception of an honest mistake?"

"What sort of mistake?" asked Merinel, with some trepidation.

"Oh, let's not trouble ourselves with unpleasant memories. We were discussing Tenbor's attention to your journey, which was certainly a significant indication of its high regard and concern for you and your husband. But it is also true that Tenbor can often accomplish more with a subself than many of us could with our entire mentality. Many believe that Tenbor, of all our number, represents the ideal balance of compassion and capability."

"Must those traits be in conflict?" asked Merinel.

"Among our kind, sadly, the answer appears to be yes. Even our paragon Tenbor has its deficits: it spent most of the interval since the Crash in a semidormant state, and then wasted valuable years hidden away in seclusion with the proto-Iron-Goats, prior to your husband's storied journey of discovery. Nor is Tenbor flawless today: for example, it was wrong of it not to inform you earlier of my offers to help. Irinon or ne'Xab would have understood this. But Irinon or ne'Xab could never manage a settlement as challenging as the Tenbor Dish. The antenna hub, which lay dark and abandoned in your youth, is a fiendishly complex structure. Maintaining it as a dwelling for biologicals is difficult enough, and on top of that it possesses aspects unrelated to habitation which..." at this point the school of koi jittered nervously in their pattern, and the fish serving as Szerar's voice cleared its throat, "... which are quite dull and about which I know practically nothing. The point being, superior biological rapport seems to come at the expense of one's competency for stewardship.

"There are examples at all points on the spectrum. Lhaës comprehends art, a concept most of our kind struggle with, but suffers the marked handicap of logical immobility. Our finned fop from Alacre, for all its posturing, does indeed approximate something very close to an emotional mental process, and you can appreciate how difficult it is to imagine that buffoon fulfilling a useful role within the Ship. As for me, I flatter myself to think that I understand the biological mind better than any other Entity, and here I am trying to peel a Torlaai off a demiquol while Ullymta, crucial Ullymta of the vital gravity sinks, has spent centuries trying to calculate the final digit of pi."

"It can't be as bad as all that. You make the Entities sound like a flock of delinquents."

"True, the spectrum is broad, but there are deficits in the other direction as well. Zaltta is a capable fellow; Zaltta could handle something as complex as the Dish. But Zaltta is not always very adept at managing its residents. It talks differently because it thinks differently, and this can impede communication. Yoeor, for all I know, could have the Ship in the air tomorrow, but its lack of context approaches a pathology – a topic I could address with greater familiarity if the stubborn old cipher would simply consent to a preliminary interview. And then of course you have the really tragic cases like Darksome and the Eater, whose quirks have festered into something so foul that it's hard to tell how they began. The metaself is a fragile entity – if you will forgive the expression – and disintegration can unfold in harmful ways."

"I suppose that applies to Tench as well now," Merinel reflected.

"It applies to all biologicals, and always has. Do you imagine that we are so different in this respect? Consider your subselves. Tenbor gave them faces and voices – it did not create them. They are entirely passionate, entirely emotional in nature – even the Stoic, for fortitude does not exist without pain. They are also, on an individual basis, woefully incapable of navigating even the simplest of life's trials. It is the web of your judgment that gathers them together into Merinel, the dauntless wise-woman who offers death and ruin the back of her hand."

"Stop it."

"I shall not!" the koi proclaimed while swimming in a loop. "Your actions deserve commendation."

"It was Adimar who dealt with physical threats, and Tenbor who kept Tench from slipping away."

The koi shook its head. "Adimar had nothing to lose but his life; a possession of which he is absent-mindedly fond, but not oversolicitous. Tenbor was never at any risk whatsoever. You alone had the whole world bound up in your endeavor."

Merinel bumped against an outcrop of coral as she pondered Szerar's words, sending small fish scattering for better cover as colorful polyps vanished from sight.

"Proof positive of the environment's shortcomings," sighed the koi. "Nevertheless, it was not brought forth solely for your critique. Your subselves have spent too much time in a state of separate embodiment, howsoever noble the cause. We must re-integrate them into your totem glyph, and to that end I would like you to re-calibrate them, as it were."

"How?" asked Merinel.

"By inhabiting them fully, for a short while. I have placed them within their portals once again, but this time, passing through each portal will allow you to adopt the subself's persona as your primary embodiment. Once you have spent a small amount of time within each identity, I will be able to pack them safely away in your totem where they belong."

Merinel swam over to the first portal and considered the image of the Child reflected on the bubble-sheet of air. Traces of memory and sensation arose within Merinel as the Child returned her gaze: the nameless terror of a dark night, the sheltering circle of a protective arm.

Merinel drifted over to the Provider, and recalled the exhausted contentment of cradling Byx in her arms on the day she was born.

She swam towards the Stoic and felt her fears and trepidations recede behind a layer of cool resolve.

She made her way to the Sensualist and took a deep breath of water as echoes of desire bubbled within her – memories and fantasies of eager eyes, eager hands, eager lips...

"She's first," Merinel announced.

"Very good," replied the koi. "In you go. The environment beyond the portal is also dedicated to rest and recuperation, albeit in a less experimental setting. I will let you know when sufficient time has elapsed."

Merinel squared her shoulders as she prepared to enter the portal. The image of the Sensualist placed her hands on her hips with a knowing smirk.

"All right, no need to gloat," muttered Merinel as she kicked her way into the bubble's surface.

* * *

Merinel, the Sensualist, was peripherally aware of the unrelenting perfection of her body – her lustrous hair, her supple limbs, and her flawlessly proportioned curves, none of which seemed to have any regard whatsoever for the force of gravity. She was far more aware of the beauty of the world around her. The water in her clothing and lungs evaporated instantly, and as she stepped out of the resulting cloud and exhaled a long cool spray of mist, she laughed and wept for joy. She was intoxicated by every impression – the caress of the wind on her skin, the rustle of leaves and the distant purr of waves on a shoreline, the bright and soaring aroma of wild growth and salt air. When she opened her eyes, she sank to her knees as the riot of sky and sea and grass momentarily overwhelmed her.

Taking a moment to bring her unruly senses to order, Merinel saw that the environment Szerar had selected for her was an island that was shaped and patterned like the Ship itself, albeit much smaller. On the aftward horizon – no, not aftward, she corrected herself, merely... where is the Sun... northern – she saw a cluster of hills and stone spires that matched the outline of Mecantrion.

Laughing, Merinel began retracing her journey at a dash. She stomped disdainfully upon the rocks and toadstools which matched the configuration of Jnuluk. Passing over the hard-packed earth of Yoeor's security zone, she extended her arms and made airplane noises. Trotting over a small footbridge which spanned the Eighth Transverse Ravine, she slackened her pace to pick her way through the bramble which stood in for the Forene'Xab Mistforest. Her bare feet splashed heedlessly through the branching rivulets that made up Irinon.

The bronze and umber grasses abaft the Ninth Ravine came no higher than Merinel's ankles, but she did her best to place her footfalls on the scattered line of miniature pentagonal plates. She traced a winding path through the pillars of Mastmarch, some of which reached as high as her shoulders. Afore the Tenth, she paused to admire the great spherical boulder of Lhaës and the intricate patterns of varicolored mosses that covered its bulk.

Startled birds fled from the clustered rookeries of Zaltta as she raced between them. Pausing to catch her breath, she saw that she was drawing close to Tenbor: a wide and shallow valley with an immense tree growing in the center of its basin.

Merinel walked to the edge of the valley and contemplated the tree. The bole of the tree was dense and gnarled, but its heights sported branches of varying girth. "So empty," she observed. She raised her arms in the air and her totem glyph appeared between her hands. Frowning in concentration, she crafted a glyph that would evoke an illusory figure from the underlying logic of the environment. Once complete, the glyph faded away, and she banished her totem with a wave of her hands. Regarding the tree again, she saw that a man was now vaulting among its branches, assisted by a strand of living silver.

Smiling, Merinel chanted once to banish the sheen of sweat from her skin, and again to transport herself to the base of the tree in a drifting blur. She cocked her head up at the acrobat. "Is that only as fun as it looks?" she asked.

The phantom Adimar dropped to the ground and wound the cable around his torso, looking askance at her. She noted that he differed in several respects from the physical Adimar – his hair was longer, and his eyes were an arresting shade of green. Merinel approved of the changes.

"Do I know you?" asked Adimar.

"A complicated question," replied Merinel. "Do you believe so?"

"I suppose not," mused Adimar. "It is just that you bear a resemblance to my companion."

"Mmm, your 'companion.' Lucky girl, that one."

"I... she... not in that sense," stammered Adimar. "You misunderstand."

"So noble," sighed Merinel, teasing out a length of cable from the coils on his chest. "An adorable quality. But such concerns are not for phantasms. This is an enchanted isle," she continued, twining the cable about her shoulders. "Entanglements are encouraged."

* * *

In due time, Merinel awoke in her own body, alone, floating within the watery sphere.

"All settled?" asked the Szerar koi. "I did not anticipate that you would require so much time, but I hesitated to interrupt."

"Sorry about that," replied Merinel, blinking in disbelief as she contemplated her recent exploits. "I... um... made a recreational choice that I normally wouldn't have, but no matter. Ghosts don't count."

"Certainly not, certainly... er... ghosts, you say?"

"Yes. 'Ghosts don't count.' It's sort of an informal rule among biologicals about not prying too closely or becoming jealous of your partner's activities in the Verch."

"I am familiar with the axiom," replied Szerar, as the school of koi assumed a slightly paler cast. "A very mature and sensible attitude. And... ahem... you believe it applies to your recent encounter."

"Yes – " Merinel stopped short as she caught the anxiety in Szerar's manner. "Wait. Doesn't it?"

The koi floated upside down and moaned; its fellows in the pattern thrashed about and collided with each other. "Oh, my diagnostic subself will have a field day with this," lamented Szerar. "I will never hear the end of it."

"I glyphed for a simulacrum," Merinel continued, as a chill constriction of dread crept up from her stomach, "and I got a simulacrum. Right?"

"Well," offered Szerar in a small voice, "he was certainly simulated in the sense that every event within the Verch is simulated..."

"Szerar, what have you done?" demanded Merinel.

The sudden appearance of Tenbor's dove and Irinon's maze-sphere sent gentle ripples through the water. "What is amiss?" asked the dove. "Is our assistance needed?"

"Oh, by all means," replied Merinel with a bitter laugh. "Pull up a seat. The more the merrier. Szerar was just about to explain how he put my libido into a playpen with an actual person."

"Well, when you put it like that, of course it sounds bad," protested the koi.

"Oh, dear me," remarked Irinon. "Merinel, I am sorry to have intruded on this predicament, which is none of my concern. But if I may venture an opinion, an unwitting and nonphysical liaison with one of Szerar's patients – however regrettable – strikes me as an eminently surmountable..."

"It was Adimar."

"Oh, dear me, indeed."

The dove sighed. "Szerar."

"Now really, Szerar," added Irinon.

"Well, I was distracted!" exclaimed the koi. "She requested a very detailed metaglyph, and the environment requested additional logic to fulfill it, and I thought, well, we have the genuine article doing imaginary calisthenics in the next environment over, so why not kill two birds with one stone, as it were? And it might even prove... even prove," Szerar concluded in a sheepish whimper, "instructive."

Merinel drifted backwards, her hair forming a dark cloud about her face. "Well, I trust we put on a good show."

"Nothing like that," the koi assured her. "Post-event logic scans only. And indeed, I have learned much about the nature of the nascent Sensualist subself – for example, did you know that her tertiary pseudocortex..."

"Szerar," interrupted the Tenbor and Irinon entities in unison.

"Yes... sorry... not important."

The silver dove swam to Merinel's shoulder. "I will not pretend to be an expert in matters of the heart. But I cannot imagine that Tench would not understand and offer forgiveness..."

"Tench doesn't get to know about this," declared Merinel.

The dove paused. "That is for you to decide. In the interim, Szerar is informing me that we should proceed with the reintegration of your remaining subselves." The miserable koi nodded.

"No, thank you," shuddered Merinel. "I'm staying in charge from here on out. No exceptions."

The koi quivered in agitation. "Merinel," continued Tenbor, "This is not wise. Without this step, your subselves are likely to persist. They may evoke spontaneously within the Verch."

"Perhaps I will spend less time in the Verch."

"They may even emerge – or appear to emerge – during biological cognition."

"Then they'll be where I can keep an eye on them!" retorted Merinel. "No more... mending. No more somersaults in the name of perfection. I'll have subselves. Adimar will avoid us. The Ship will stay on the ground. So be it." She ran her hands through her drifting hair, pulling it away from her face, and took a deep, liquid breath. "I would like to see Tench now. May I see Tench?"

"You may," replied the dove. The lambent jellyfish in the center of the sphere went dim, and Merinel's sensation of the water diminished along with it. When the light had faded completely, Merinel opened her eyes onto the physical world: a tastefully appointed sitting room within the rambling lodge that served as a residence for many of Szerar's patients.

Merinel removed her crown. A small image of the V'tang symbol appeared in the air, and the scarlet and cobalt teardrops abandoned their circular pattern to trace a line towards the door. Merinel arose and followed the teardrops as they swam through the air, leading her through the corridors of the lodge.

The teardrops made their way to a sliding door with paper panels, depositing themselves onto its surface in their original configuration. The paper faded into transparency, revealing a small courtyard garden. Tench sat within, reclining, a discreet crown nestled within his disheveled locks.

Merinel slowly slid the door open. Tench noticed her for the first time, and greeted her with an uncertain smile.

"Hey," he said. "Hey. Hello. Is it... is it really you?"

Merinel wept –

and smiled –

and sighed –

and laughed –

and strode forward to clasp Tench's hands.
