This set the circle around the campfire buzzing.
"Then he is gone, Sam," Florimel said at last. There was something softer and sadder in her tone now.
"Orlando came back from there!" Sam said angrily.
"That is different, Sam," Martine told her. "You know that it is."
Because he isn't alive like !Xabbu, Sam thought but didn't say. That's what she means. Deep down, much as she hated it, she knew Martine was right. Several of her companions were all talking at once now. Because Orlando didn't come back from there, he was . . . born from there.
"There is an easy way to find out if she is there," said Jongleur loudly. A sour smile played around the edge of his mouth. "But I am sure you have thought of it already and need no assistance from a monster like me."
"Don't push your luck," Martine warned him. "If you have something useful to say, do so."
"Very well. Do you still have your communication device? I was with the woman Renie when you called her before. Why not call her again?"
"My God," Martine said. "My God, with everything going on I had completely forgotten." She pulled a chunky silver lighter from the pocket of her coveralls.
"How did you get that?" Sam asked, completely confused. "Renie had it!"
"It is a copy," Martine told her. "I will explain later."
Sam saw the glint of satisfaction—or perhaps something else—in the hawk-faced man's eyes. She jumped to her feet and pointed at Jongleur. "Don't let him get near it!"
He spread his hands. "I am on the other side of the fire. There are, as you pointed out, many of you and only one of me."
Martine lifted the lighter. "Renie," she said, "can you hear me? It's Martine. Renie, are you there?"
For long moments, there was nothing.
"Can you hear me, Renie?"
Then suddenly her familiar voice was in their midst, as close and clear as if she had joined them at the campfire. "Martine? Martine, is that you?"
Martine laughed with delight. "Renie! Oh, what a blessing to hear you. Where are you?"
"I'm . . . I don't really know. Inside the operating system, I guess. But that's only the beginning of how bizarre this all is. !Xabbu is with me. . . ."
"!Xabbu!" Sam found herself crying again. "He's alive!"
"Can you hear Sam Fredericks?" Martine said, still laughing. "She. . . ."
Something knocked Martine to the ground. Sam shouted and stood up. Orlando, still sore and weary, took a full two seconds to struggle to his feet beside her. Azador stood over Martine, the lighter in his hand and a hugely triumphant grin on his face.
"I have it back!" he shouted. "I have it back!"
The voice seemed to come out of nowhere.
"Renie," it said, "can you hear me? It's Martine. Renie, are you there?"
She had fallen into a sort of half-drowse, exhaustion having finally overwhelmed everything else, and for a long moment she could not even remember where she was.
"!Xabbu, what's going on?" She stared at the dry pan, the thorn bushes and the brightly starred sky, trying to imagine where Martine could be. Could you dream inside a dream?"
"Can you hear me, Renie?" Martine asked again.
"It is in your kaross." !Xabbu pointed at the antelope-hide garment she wore. Renie fumbled out the device. It was still a lighter, just as it had always been, although it now seemed the most unlikely object in an entire, unlikely world. She pressed hot points in sequence, praying she had remembered the right order. "Martine? Martine, is that you?"
"Renie! Oh, what a blessing to hear you. Where are you?"
She looked at !Xabbu, then down at the small shape of Grandfather Mantis crouched at the bottom of the gulley beside the trickling stream. It lay on its side now, legs drawn up. It must still be breathing, she thought distractedly, or all this would be gone.
But do gods breathe? she wondered an instant later.
"I'm . . . I don't really know. Inside the operating system, I guess. But that's only the beginning of how bizarre this all is. !Xabbu is with me. . . ."
"Can you hear Sam Fredericks?" Martine sounded absolutely joyful. Renie felt tears spring to her eyes. "She. . . ."
Abruptly, the transmission stopped.
"Martine?" Renie asked after a moment. "Martine, are you still there?" She turned to !Xabbu. "It just . . . cut off."
The mantis stirred. She could hear its words in her head but they were desperately soft, "You should not . . . should not have spoken. The All-Devourer will follow your words now. It will come straight here."
"Did you cut us off?" Renie crawled to her feet, aware as she did so of the absurdity of standing up to shout at a dying insect. "Those are our friends!"
"Too late. Too late for them." It was only a whisper, faint and distant. "All we had left . . . was a little time. And now it is gone."
"Martine!" Renie shouted at the lighter. "Martine, talk to me!" But when the device finally spoke again it was not Martine's voice she heard.
Azador backed away from the blind woman, who was already struggling up onto her knees, apparently not badly hurt. "Mine!" he said feverishly. "They thought they could take it from me—my gold! But Azador does not forget!"
Orlando snarled and raised his sword, but before he could take a step toward the thief someone shouted, "Nobody move!"
With a nightmarish, underwater feeling, Sam turned to see that Felix Jongleur had snatched up the boy Cho-Cho, who struggled like a scalded cat until Jongleur laid the broken blade of Orlando's old sword against the child's throat.
"I am not bluffing," said Jongleur. "Unless you wish to see your only connection to this man Sellars killed before your eyes you will sit down and stay seated." He turned a baleful stare on Orlando. "Especially you."
Azador moved toward Jongleur, the lighter in his cupped hands, a look of reverence on his face. "Look—is it not beautiful? You were right, my friend. You said the blind woman would have it and you were right!"
Jongleur smiled. "You have been very patient. Will you let me see it?"
Azador stopped, his joy suddenly turned to suspicion. "You cannot touch it."
"I do not want to touch it," Jongleur said. "I only wanted to look, to make sure they had not tricked you—you heard what they said about a copy."
"It is no copy!" Azador said indignantly. "I would know! This is mine!"
"Of course," said Jongleur.
Cho-Cho suddenly wrenched free of the old man's grip and dashed away across the Gypsy encampment. Azador turned to watch the boy go, and as he did, Jongleur grabbed Azador and set the broken blade against his neck then dragged it across his throat. Already gurgling blood, the Gypsy turned toward his supposed ally in amazement and tried to strike at him, but Jongleur grabbed his arm. Azador sagged and fell to the ground. Jongleur stood over him, holding the lighter in his red-smeared hand.
"Bastard!" shouted Paul Jonas. Orlando said nothing but was already moving toward the bald man.
Jongleur held up the lighter. "Careful. I could easily throw it into the Well from here, couldn't I? Then you have lost your friend Renie."