*An artificial creature designed to house a disembodied mind, like a ghost or a golem.'

A chill went down Sal's spine. *Does Atilde think he succeeded in giving it a mind?'

*Yes. But what it was physically, she doesn't know. It's obviously something, something that walks.'

*This doesn't make any sense,' said Shilly, frowning deeply. *Highson knows how dangerous ghosts and golems can be. Why would he want to make a home for one?'

*Did anyone notice anything about him before all this happened?' asked Sal. *Was he acting strangely? Was he still himself?'

Tom knew what question he was really asking. If a Change-worker strained too hard, their minds could be pushed out of their body and stuck in the Void Beneath - the empty non-s.p.a.ce underpinning the real world. The vacant body left behind could then be inhabited by a golem. The three of them sitting in Lodo's old workshop knew from grim experience what horrors such a being could unleash.

*He was still Highson,' said Tom, with quiet surety. *No one doubts that for a moment. He wasn't something other than himself.'

Sal believed him. Golems weren't known for their subtlety.

*So where does everything stand now?' he asked. *This all happened a week ago. Has anyone heard from Highson since? What happened to the search party? When did you leave?'

Tom blinked under the barrage of questions. *The search party hasn't returned. The last I was told, they were still following the trail. No one's heard from Highson or been able to find him through the Change. I've looked too, but he's either hiding or being hidden by something.'

*Or he's dead,' put in Shilly.

*I don't think so. I left two days ago. My dreams have been unsettled since Highson disappeared. It's hard to tell what's real and what isn't. There's only one thing I'm sure of: you two are involved. Your faces keep coming up, over and over. There's only one way you could be involved, and that's if someone came and got you. So I did. I requisitioned a buggy and set off. I stopped to refuel and rest in Samimi, but apart from that I drove straight through.'

That explained his haggard appearance, and reinforced something that had unnerved Sal ever since Tom's unexpected appearance. Tom wasn't interested in being a hero or standing in the spotlight; he was normally content to watch from the shadows as people played out their roles. He only acted when he felt he had to - when his dreams told him that something was important.

This obviously was.

*How did you know where we were?'

*Where else would you be?' Tom reacted as though Sal had asked why the day had begun that morning. *When you escaped from the Haunted City, you went through a Way to the workshop.'

*But you weren't there,' Shilly said. *No one was supposed to talk about it.'

*They didn't need to. It was perfectly obvious what had happened.'

*To you, perhaps,' said Sal. *You're the first visitor we've had in five years.'

*And a very welcome one, too,' Shilly added, *although the news you've brought is less than cheerful.'

*Did you tell anyone where you were going?' asked Sal, unable to hide the worry in his voice.

*No. I - uh.' An alarmed look crossed Tom's face. He stood up suddenly, knocking over the empty bottle of water.

*I'm sorry,' he said, performing an awkward hop on one foot and turning pink. *I need - uh.'

*Through there.' Shilly realised before Sal did what Tom required and pointed to a curtained alcove. *I was wondering how much you could drink before you started to overflow.'

Tom vanished behind the curtain. Sal grinned at the sustained splash and sigh of relief that followed, but his mind was too full of images old and new, of golems and midnight detonations, of Highson Sparre and dead Larson Maiz, of hiding places and family ties, to be distracted for long.

Shilly caught his eye and held it. Her expression was very serious. He could tell that she had already decided what she wanted to do.

*What do you think?' she asked.

*I'm trying not to.'

*He's your father.' Her voice held a hint of reproach.

*My father died in Fundelry before I ever met this man.'

*Highson married your mother; he sired you. And he helped us escape from the Syndic.'

Sal nodded. All true and relevant, especially the latter. Highson Sparre's aunt, the most powerful woman in the Strand, had locked horns with Sal on more than one occasion. If she had had her way, he would still be studying in the Haunted City, fuelling her plans for advancement.

*You know it's the right thing to do.' Her hand found his. *And besides, Tom dreamed we were involved. There's nothing we can do about it now.'

*If he'd left us alone, perhaps we wouldn't be.' He heard the petulance in his tone and hated it. The truth was that he didn't feel ready to leave Fundelry, the fishing village he had lived in for five years after a life of constant travel. Part of him wondered if he would ever be ready to leave. Fundelry was safe: the dangers were known and familiar. He had no control over the outside world and the threats it contained; out there, he might have no control over himself, either.

Only twice had he let his wild talent consume him. The eruption of rage he had set free had almost killed a man. Then, later, he had killed an ice-creature deep in the bowels of the Haunted City. Even though that had been in defence of Shilly, the potential for violence contained within him frightened him even more than the first time. His wild talent was like a large animal blundering about in a city; by its very nature, it was dangerous.

But that wasn't the fault of its nature. It was just out of place. In the right place, it wouldn't be a problem. Sal simply hadn't found out where that was yet.

In Fundelry, with Shilly, he had learned to balance the wild talent and bend it to his will, but it was a truce he feared could be easily broken.

*All right,' he said. *We have to help. But I don't like it. What's Highson doing mucking around with a Homunculus in the middle of the night? What's he brought into the world? What are we getting ourselves caught up in now?'

She didn't say anything, just leaned her head into his shoulder. He put an arm around her and held her, tasting an uncertainty he had thought long swallowed.

A bell rang at lunchtime, apparently of its own accord. There were twelve strung in an elaborate mobile from the ceiling's highest point. Each had a unique pitch and timbre, and each had an identical twin to which it was subtly linked. When one rang, no matter how far away, so would the twin.

*That's Thess,' said Sal, looking up from the chart he and Tom were studying. *Do you want me to go?'

Shilly shook her head. She had been laying out their clothes and other possessions in preparation for packing, finding herself amazed by how little they actually owned. Discounting the workshop and everything Lodo had left them, plus the occasional trinket the townsfolk insisted they take, they had only a few personal effects to call their belongings. Part of her found it sad that they could have left so small a mark on their world that no one would notice its absence.

*I've got it,' she said, grateful for the opportunity to think about something else. Rummaging in a closet, she wrapped up two small vials in a leather bag and tied her hair in a short pigtail. She picked up her favourite walking stick, one which Sal had carved with simple but potent charms for strength and endurance out of a piece of near perfectly-straight driftwood. The charms sparkled with the Change irrespective of how the light caught them. *I'll be home soon.'

Outside, the sun had begun its lazy drift across the westward quarter of the sky, and she walked with it at her back. Tom had moved the buggy into the dunes, where it would be less conspicuous, and she gave it a wide berth, even though she had no reason to be afraid of it. Buggies were rare in Fundelry; few travellers used them, and the town's mechanic spent most of his time repairing fishing boat engines and water pumps. This one was an efficient Sky Warden machine, made of black metal and brooding like a disgruntled spider on wheels. Big enough to hold four, it seemed to glower at her as she pa.s.sed.

*Be patient,' she told it. *You'll be on the road again soon enough.'

Then she was hurrying through the dunes to the rendezvous point, a dry creek bed halfway between the workshop and Fundelry. She went into town only when she absolutely had to, and made sure Sal charmed her appearance thoroughly before she did. Her and Sal's friends knew how to find them, but no one else did. Or so she had preferred to think.

Long-limbed Thess and her young son sat under the shade of a spreading eucalyptus, playing a game involving Thess's hair and the boy's small fingers. The sound of Gil's laughter brought a smile to Shilly's face. Gil's father had drowned in a fishing accident the year before. The five-year-old had been uncommunicative since.

*I hope you haven't been waiting long.' Shilly kissed Thess's cheek and sat next to them, stretching her bad leg out before her. Gil looked up at her, wide-eyed, then shied away. They were as dark-skinned as herself and Tom; on the Strand, Sal's light skin was the exception. *It's been a complicated morning.'

Thess beamed. *We've had fun. Haven't we, Gil?'

*Mmm,' said the boy, discovering a sudden interest in the ants exploring stringy bark on the far side of the tree.

*I have some of the sand I told you about,' said Shilly, putting the first of the vials into Thess's lap. *Put this in little Gil's shoes and the itching will go down in a couple of days.'

*Thank you. I -'

*And this one's for you.' The second vial contained a yellow powder that shifted smoothly, like a fluid. *Half a teaspoon in water every morning and I promise you'll notice the difference. I tried it last week, and -' She mimed an explosion of energy.

*Shilly, thanks, but -'

*It's the least I can do. I know it's been a long haul for you.' She pressed Thess to take the vial. *I'd advise against taking this forever, but it'll help get you out of this rough patch.'

*I think I might already be out of it.' Thess dropped her voice. *That's actually why I called you.'

*Oh?' Thrown off giving the spiel she had memorised from Lodo's notes, Shilly stared at her older friend, really looking at her for the first time. Gil wasn't the only one of the pair sporting a more cheerful demeanour. Understanding suddenly dawned. *Not that fisherman!'

Thess shushed her so Gil wouldn't overhear. *Yes.'

*What was his name? Boone? Boden?'

*Booth. Last night -' Thess's voice dropped even further in volume. *He stayed all night. I haven't woken up with a man beside me for an awfully long time. It felt good.'

Shilly gripped her friend's hand. *I'm glad for you. I am, truly.'

Thess affected a measure of nonchalance. *Oh, things will be complicated. Gil doesn't know yet, and I don't know how he'll take it. His father's family, too, could be tricky. But I'm not doing this for them. It's for me, and I want it to work.'

*I'm sure it will.' Even if it lasted no more than one night, Shilly would regard it as worthwhile. The glow surrounding Thess was palpable.

*Well, that's why I wanted to talk to you. Aunty Merinda gave me a tonic, but it's been giving me terrible headaches. She said that you might know something better, to keep any, um, awkwardnesses at bay, until I'm ready.'

Thess glanced at Gil, who was engrossed in the antics of a gecko he'd disturbed. Her meaning was obvious. Aunty Merinda, the local weather-worker and fortune-teller, was also the chief dispenser of contraception to Fundelry's womenfolk. She had taught Shilly everything she needed to know long before Sal came to town, and provided valuable advice after the fact, when they had been two young people flung together by circ.u.mstances as well as by the bond growing between them. Shilly had been glad for someone trustworthy to talk to, if nothing else.

*I think the headaches relate to the dose, not the substance itself,' she said, thinking carefully. She didn't feel entirely comfortable dispensing advice of this nature, when a single mistake could change the course of a person's life. But she was flattered that Aunty Merinda thought her capable of offering it. *I'll look into it tonight.'

*Thank you.'

*There could be a problem, though,' she went on, the words hard to come by because the notion was still so new to her. *Sal and I are leaving. I don't know how long for. You'll have to do without us. Can you tell the others?'

*Of course.' Thess examined her closely. *Is everything all right? You haven't been found, have you?'

*Oh, no,' she lied, hoping her uncertainty didn't show. *Everything's fine. We just need to help someone. It won't take long, I hope.'

Thess looked barely mollified. *We'll miss you. We've been spoilt, having you so close for so long. The town won't know what to do when your charms wear off and all our chimneys block again.'

Shilly felt a rush of affection for her friend, and found herself spontaneously embracing her, clutching her as tightly as she would the mother she had never known. Thess's warmth was soothing, as was the rich, womanly smell of her. Strong hands gripped Shilly's back; silence enfolded them, and she was somewhat rea.s.sured that all would be well.

On the way back to the workshop, Shilly reflected that, although their packs might be light, she and Sal were rich in other ways. They had friends and accomplices all through the town; they helped out in myriad small ways, from purifying water to treating minor ailments; they were making progress in working out how they fitted into the world. They would be missed, just as she would miss her home.

The greatest treasure they owned lay in their heads and their hearts. Nothing could take that away from them, no matter where they went or what they did. Golems and ghosts had tried in the past, and failed; Highson Sparre's Homunculus - or whatever it was - would fare no better.

Later that night, when Tom had fallen into a heavy sleep broken by the occasional snore, Sal removed himself to a dark corner of the workshop and squatted on the earthen floor. Their evening meal - rabbit fried in local spices with a side dish of seeds and nuts marinated in honey, washed down with a gla.s.s of clear white wine that had been given to them a year ago by a grateful customer - roiled in his stomach like surf on the sands. He had to try something before giving in to his fate.

Shilly had been busy all evening, rummaging through Lodo's recipes and old notes; some last-hour concoction, he presumed, that they would deliver when they set out the next morning. Even now she fussed and bothered among Lodo's tools.

Sal closed his eyes and blotted her out. She was still there, but he wasn't paying her any attention. He did the same to Tom and the rest of the workshop, until he was just a point of awareness floating in the blackness behind his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply.

When he had the rhythm right, he began to visualise.

He stood on the boundary between sea and land, but it was no ordinary beach. The sea glowed like the sun and the land was molten with power. The air crackled. He breathed deeply of it, and strength filled him. His skin felt as transparent as gla.s.s, as hot as a lantern left burning too long.

Highson Sparre, he called, where are you? He pictured his true father's face as he had last seen it: brooding eyes, broad features, skin as warm as dark honey. He took the lines of those features and bent them around a simple charm. The world was seeping into him with every breath. Wherever Highson was in the world, the charm would help him to know of it. He poured all his energy into the effort.

Highson, save me the trouble of leaving and answer me!

A fluttering of wings distracted him. The face dissolved. A burning bird with bones of charcoal circled him, trailing flames. A sea creature made of stone surfaced from the fiery ocean and landed with a crash. He irritably waved them away with a flex of his will. They were symbols: the sea of the Sky Wardens, so familiar to him in his everyday life but always a reminder of his fugitive status; the bedrock of the Stone Mages, who had sent him back to the Strand rather than shelter him from his enemies. That he routinely bypa.s.sed the usual teachings and went straight to the source, the borderland of stone and water, fire and air, proved that they were conventions only, and neither essential nor dangerous to cross.

They had, however, successfully distracted him. No matter how he tried, he couldn't quite rea.s.semble Highson's image. It eluded him. Or the charm refused to accept the image, and he could only think of one reason why this might be so: if his father was no longer in the world, then the charm would never work no matter how hard or often he tried.

A black sun rose over the burning sea, casting rays of darkness across the land. Burning bird and stone sea creature fled before a rolling hum that grew louder the longer Sal persisted. He knew that sound. He had heard it too many times to ever mistake it. It came from the Void Beneath, and it meant that he was trying too hard. He retreated immediately, unravelling the illusion as he went. The hum faded back into the ebb and flow of his breath, and the darkness of the black sun became the red-tinged oblivion of his closed eyes. The charm dissolved.

It was odd, then, that the feeling that he had been getting close to something remained. Not to his father, but to the tear that had opened in the world, somewhere ...

*No luck, huh?'

He opened his eyes to see Shilly watching from a position directly in front of him. Time had flown.

The glowstones she had been working by were yellow and dim, almost depleted.

*No,' he said, unfolding his legs.

*Worth a try.'

He sighed. The thought of leaving made his insides tremble with both excitement and fear. And now he was tired, too. He should sleep. They would get precious little of it over the next few days.

*I keep remembering Larson Maiz,' he said. *How must it feel to die of fright? I don't want that to happen to anyone I know. To you.'

She reached out to cup his cheek. *We all die someday, Sal. Yesterday's people are tomorrow's ghosts. And we can't stay hidden here forever.'

*I know, but ...' He stopped, unable to find the words to express what he was feeling. *We'll have to be very careful.'

*Don't worry about me, Sayed,' she said. *Or yourself. I'll be so terrified nothing will get within a hundred metres of us without me noticing.'

Her face was just visible in the yellow warmth of fading glowstones. Her words did rea.s.sure him, even though he knew that, like himself, she had little idea of what they were heading into.

*I love you, Carah,' he said, knowing that she returned his love as fully as it was offered. Whatever happened, he could depend on that.