“Everybody’s been busy,” Ronan said, leaning the Spear against the front of him and shoving his hands into his pockets.
“How are things back home?”
“Pretty much as usual,” Ronan said. “With a few changes. Your friend Tualha? She gave up being a bard when they made her Queen of the Cats. Now she’s having kittens.”
“Wow,” Nita said. “But she was so little…”
“Cats grow up faster than we do,” Ronan said. “They’ve got a real short latency, which is why you don’t see any of their Seniors here. Anyway, not even an emergency like this is going to make the Powers That Be put an oracular in Tualha’s situation on active duty. The kittens come first.”
That made sense to Nita, but it also made her nervous. “If the cat Seniors aren’t on the job right now,” she said, “who’s handling the worldgates on Earth? That’s their specialty.”
“There are some very new feline wizards, just past Ordeal, who’re taking up the slack,” said Ronan, though it wasn’t quite Ronan. Something else shivered around the edges of his voice, a sense of more power, more age. “It’s as if they were born just in time for this.”
Nita sighed. “One less thing to worry about,” she said. “But I feel sorry for them, being pitched straight into the middle of all this trouble.”
Ronan shrugged. “Not much we can do,” he said, and turned away from the Spear to see what Kit was doing. Nita reflexively reached out to stop the Spear from falling over, and then saw that it just kept on leaning against nothing in exactly the same way it had been leaning against Ronan, the fire wreathing undisturbed about that bitterly sharp blade.
It has a mind of its own, said that other voice. Though maybe “mind” is the wrong word. The kind of consciousness a virtue has isn’t much like the human kind.
Kit had caught Ponch and was checking the leash-spell, the blue-fire glow of it stretching thin and bright between his hands as he checked its wizardry to make sure that it was intact and working correctly. “Something on your mind?” Ronan said, turning back to Nita.
“I don’t know,” Nita said. “I guess…” She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to say what was on her mind, then shrugged as well. “You two are doing okay, aren’t you?”
Ronan’s smile got a bit sardonic. “Told you she’d ask,” he said.
His situation’s hardly unique, the Defender said. Various of the Powers have living avatars for one reason or another.
“Though the rest are all a lot older,” Ronan said. “Apparently it’s unusual for someone so young to be able to cope so well.” He made an ironic face.
Nita raised her eyebrows. Why didn’t I see this coming? If there’s anything Ronan was going to be good at, it’d be coping. “So you’re telling me there’s nothing for me to be worrying about,” Nita said, “for either of you.”
There was a pause. Ronan looked briefly flummoxed. You’re worried about me? said the Defender.
“It can’t be easy being, well, what you are, and having to live inside a human being too,” Nita said. “Especially now, when so many things aren’t working the way they should.”
For a moment Ronan’s face looked as if neither of the two beings living behind it knew how to respond. Finally, Ronan dropped his gaze. Of course my kind of power suffers from being wrapped up in flesh, the One’s Champion said. But it’s inside physicality that the great Game’s played. He looked up again, met Nita’s eyes, and for all the age and power in the voice that spoke, the eyes were strangely young, and there was an odd glint of excitement in them. It’s like chess, the Defender said. It doesn’t matter that you could stand up and turn the board over. That wouldn’t be winning. The only way that matters to win the game is from inside. So— He shrugged. We put up with the limitations, because there’s no other way to win. Not having access to our full power, yes, it’s frustrating. And if we break out before we’re scheduled to, we pay the price.
“But for the time being, you’re okay,” Nita said.
Yes, said the Defender. And I thank you very much for asking. It sounded bemused.
Nita nodded. She looked down from the rise and saw that all the pup-tent accesses were gone now, and Kit and Ponch were standing with Sker’ret and Filif. “Looks like we’re ready,” she said.
Ronan reached out and grasped the Spear. “Let’s go.”
They bounced down to where the others were waiting. Ponch was jumping around, the line of light between him and Kit stretching and shrinking to accommodate him. “Why should you be so nervous?” Sker’ret was saying. “It went just fine the last time.”
“Except that we lost four days getting here,” Kit said. “And that wasn’t nearly as long a jump as this one’s going to be.”
He glanced down at Ponch, whose bouncing went on uninterrupted. It’ll be all right, Ponch said. I know where we’re going. Come on, let’s go!
“Maybe I’m just feeling paranoid today,” Kit said, not quite glancing up at the Pullulus, “but I think we should be in physical contact when we go.” He reached his spare hand out to Filif, who wound a few fronds around it; Sker’ret took hold of some fronds as well from behind Filif, and held a rear handling-claw up.
Nita glanced at Ronan. He shook his head. “I think I’d sooner keep a hand free,” he said, lifting the Spear.
Oh great. I get to hold his hand. Nita swallowed, took Sker’ret’s claw with one of hers, and with the other, took Ronan’s free hand. It was sweating.
She smiled slightly. “All set,” she said to Kit.
Kit looked down at Ponch. “Okay,” he said.
Ponch took a step forward; they all followed, and the gray surface of Metemne vanished behind them.
***
Darkness. For a couple of breaths, that line of light between Ponch and Kit was the only thing Nita could see as they all moved forward together. When she glanced nervously over her shoulder, she couldn’t even see the Spear, though she could still feel Ronan’s hand in hers. There was a surface of some kind under their feet, but Nita couldn’t see it, couldn’t even feel it. The sensation was most peculiar.
“Is it usually like this?” Nita said to Kit—or tried to say. But when she spoke, there was no sound.
Sometimes it is, Kit said silently. Sorry, I should have warned you.
It’s as if there’s no air, Filif said.
I’m not sure there is, Kit said. What’s weird is that whether there is or not, you don’t feel like breathing.
How much longer? Sker’ret said. He sounded somewhat unnerved.
Ponch? Kit said.
Not long.
They kept walking. Nita found herself having to count paces by how her legs moved, since when she put her feet down, she couldn’t really feel anything. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. This is so weird! Fifteen. Sixteen.
The count went past twenty, and still there was nothing but that darkness. Past thirty, and nothing. Nita was having to resist the urge to start singing or whistling, partly because she knew she wouldn’t hear anything, which would just make her feel creepier. And it wouldn’t take much to start imagining the Pullulus infesting this darkness, pressing closer, pushing in—
Nita swallowed and went back to concentrating on counting paces. Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three…
She blinked, not sure whether she was really seeing a dim gleam of light far ahead, or whether she was hallucinating it. No, it’s there, all right, Nita thought. But what is that? The light seemed faintly greenish; as they walked, the green color seemed to get stronger. Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two—