“You’re wondering why you have to pass through Epama Epam like a gateway each time,” said the Brazen Head.
“I was, that is, yes.”
“Well, you don’t have to, you know. You can go where you want to go directly from here or anywhere so long as that fluid holds out.”
“Then why wouldn’t I?” she asked.
“Direct doorways open both ways, and what lies there can then come here. The continuum of Epama serves as a buffer.”
“You might have said earlier,” she scolded it.
“You might have asked.” It closed its eyes. It might not have been Soter, she thought, but the Brazen Head shared enough of his traits that she would never forget how he’d vexed her.
She stepped forward and sank as if into the great broad tower.
It was night and the sea-lane of Epama Epam was deserted. No one awaited her arrival this time. No one was celebrating her return. She supposed that by the perverse rules of this place, as she was neither a traveler to be tricked nor someone to whom they now owed anything, she was of no interest to them—not so much unwelcome as dismissed. At least physically it looked like Colemaigne again instead of the dusty prisons of Palipon.
Nevertheless, she didn’t intend to stay long this time. She walked the street in search of a puddle of water, but could find no moisture on the stones. She went to the houses lining the lane and knocked on doors, but there were no answers. No one was about and no lights shone anywhere. It was as if everyone had gone someplace else. She recalled glimpsing the monstrous parade from Hyakiyako and wondered if all manner of unnatural things sooner or later must thread through here. By whatever name, it connected to everything else. The goddess had called it the world mountain, although Leodora could see nothing anywhere in Epama Epam that qualified as a mountain.
She finally abandoned the houses, crossed the lane to the railing, and peered over.
Below, stars twinkled back at her from a black tapestry of sky. The effect was not so unnerving as it had been in the day. Night made it seem a reflection, as if an impossible liquid sky didn’t lie above. “A dark reflection,” said the Brazen Head.
She glanced at it but it had already gone back to sleep—or had she only heard it in her mind? How far away the undersky lay she couldn’t be sure. Darkness made it appear terribly close. She climbed over the railing then, and stood on the narrow ledge of hard, glistening street over what seemed to be a bottomless gulf. She drew out the phial on its cord, uncorked it, and poured a single drop into the night sky. Then she stood craned over the rail, expecting . . . something. The drop, she concluded, must have fallen forever without reaching anywhere. It wasn’t really a reflection. She would have to go back to the houses, maybe break into one to get what she needed. She didn’t like that idea much.
Then as she drew back, ready to climb over the rail to safety, the stars below rippled. She craned her head back and stared. A pure darkness unwound from directly beneath her. Swiftly it blotted out the stars. Nothing showed in it but a huge emptiness: She had not fixed upon any destination. But she didn’t know the destination; didn’t know how far along the journey the Agents might be; didn’t know where Tophet might have moved to since Soter had seen him. Nothing in the confession had told her where the Destroyer might be now. How much more of Shadowbridge would he have devoured while she grew up on her little island? How many years remained before he banqueted in the long house of Tenikemac?
Meanwhile, the darkness absorbed all. She could not wait.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the ledge and into the sky below that was no longer sky. “Diverus,” she said, and fell. She held him in her thoughts, his face in the darkness ahead, remembering him with his eyes closed as he played some tune that snatched him away, his fingers delicate upon the shawm. Down and down she fell, knowing all the while that it was up, that everything about this journey was inverted, and that she was drifting down so slowly because there was no surface below to pull her to it, no wind, no sense of motion save that the