crevice, rumbling horribly. Furthermore, it appeared that two sacs were budding inside instead of one. The foremost sac twisted, shrank, and nearly collapsed. Then it bloomed vigorously, showing a lumpish being encapsulated there.
Startled into action, Benhu dropped the second stone into the master well, and then pressed his body sideways into the matrix that filled the wedge. A vacuole of air formed around him, and he waded with great difficulty toward the new sac, where he could just make out a body, curled up and twitching. Moving closer, Benhu realized with dismay that the person was in distress. He lost no time in pushing his own sac against the other one until they merged. Immediately, he regretted it.
Smoke filled his nostrils. He fell to his knees, gagging. Then, in desperation, he began dragging the body toward the outer chamber, coughing and struggling the few yards to the edge, where he burst through, releasing his burden along with a miasma of acrid smoke.
On hands and knees, Benhu coughed and gasped, eyes watering and beard slicked wet with ooze. Then, wiping his face with his sleeve, he looked down at the person he’d rescued, who moaned, showing signs of life.
To his horror, it was a woman.
He shouted in dismay. Grabbing a candle, he looked closer and saw that she was bleeding. Her chin and neck were burned raw, and she was shaking. He rushed for his blanket, covering her and trying to summon his wits. A woman? By the vows, this was not Titus Quinn.
Titus Quinn! He’d forgotten the second sac. Rushing back to the veil between worlds, he saw the remaining sac hovering in the center of the gelatinous mass. It contained a larger body than before. Benhu wondered if he could enter a second time and not lose himself for eternity. The computational boxes stacked nearby were still firmly attached to the veil with filaments, just as the lord instructed. But the lord had said nothing about two crossings. He had described, however, Benhu’s fate should he fail. Benhu muttered, “God not looking at me,” and shouldered himself in, half striding, half swimming toward the pouch of air.
He struggled toward the sac, peering into the obscuring gel. Finding the air pouch, he thrust himself inside, seized the man by the arms, and dragged him toward the outer chamber. The man’s larger bulk made it slow going, but eventually Benhu managed to push out of the veil. Turning to finish his task, he pulled on the man with all his strength, freeing first an arm and then head and shoulders. Bracing his feet on the floor, Benhu yanked hard. The man shot out of the matrix, colliding with Benhu, who collapsed backward onto the floor.
The room stank abominably of burned skin, guttering candles, and the horrifying viscous lake wherein the veil-of-worlds bridged over to the places that shall not be named.
Head on knees, Benhu sat stunned for a few moments. When he’d collected himself, he turned to face a long knife blade.
A wild man with plastered-back hair bent over him, grabbing his collar. “Name, on your life,” he snarled.
“Benhu, Your Excellency. But here is a more important name: Jesid. You have heard it?” Lord Oventroe had bid him use this name as a code.
The man narrowed his eyes. “Jesid?”
“Yes! Listen to me. Jesid the navitar. Does that get through to you?” He saw the man relax a bit, and to preserve his dignity, Benhu yanked away from his grip. Jesid was a name Quinn would know, Oventroe had said. By the man’s reaction, he did. So this was Titus Quinn. The knife was still pointed at his throat, but softer now.
Titus Quinn spat and wiped his face with his slimy arm. Benhu removed his jacket and offered it for a towel.
Accepting it, Quinn said, “Who sent you?”
Benhu now began to feel more in control, but wanted the knife put away before he divulged intelligences. He glanced at the blade. Quinn lowered it, but kept it ready.
“The lord you once met sent me. By the bright, do not say his name,
Startled into action, Benhu dropped the second stone into the master well, and then pressed his body sideways into the matrix that filled the wedge. A vacuole of air formed around him, and he waded with great difficulty toward the new sac, where he could just make out a body, curled up and twitching. Moving closer, Benhu realized with dismay that the person was in distress. He lost no time in pushing his own sac against the other one until they merged. Immediately, he regretted it.
Smoke filled his nostrils. He fell to his knees, gagging. Then, in desperation, he began dragging the body toward the outer chamber, coughing and struggling the few yards to the edge, where he burst through, releasing his burden along with a miasma of acrid smoke.
On hands and knees, Benhu coughed and gasped, eyes watering and beard slicked wet with ooze. Then, wiping his face with his sleeve, he looked down at the person he’d rescued, who moaned, showing signs of life.
To his horror, it was a woman.
He shouted in dismay. Grabbing a candle, he looked closer and saw that she was bleeding. Her chin and neck were burned raw, and she was shaking. He rushed for his blanket, covering her and trying to summon his wits. A woman? By the vows, this was not Titus Quinn.
Titus Quinn! He’d forgotten the second sac. Rushing back to the veil between worlds, he saw the remaining sac hovering in the center of the gelatinous mass. It contained a larger body than before. Benhu wondered if he could enter a second time and not lose himself for eternity. The computational boxes stacked nearby were still firmly attached to the veil with filaments, just as the lord instructed. But the lord had said nothing about two crossings. He had described, however, Benhu’s fate should he fail. Benhu muttered, “God not looking at me,” and shouldered himself in, half striding, half swimming toward the pouch of air.
He struggled toward the sac, peering into the obscuring gel. Finding the air pouch, he thrust himself inside, seized the man by the arms, and dragged him toward the outer chamber. The man’s larger bulk made it slow going, but eventually Benhu managed to push out of the veil. Turning to finish his task, he pulled on the man with all his strength, freeing first an arm and then head and shoulders. Bracing his feet on the floor, Benhu yanked hard. The man shot out of the matrix, colliding with Benhu, who collapsed backward onto the floor.
The room stank abominably of burned skin, guttering candles, and the horrifying viscous lake wherein the veil-of-worlds bridged over to the places that shall not be named.
Head on knees, Benhu sat stunned for a few moments. When he’d collected himself, he turned to face a long knife blade.
A wild man with plastered-back hair bent over him, grabbing his collar. “Name, on your life,” he snarled.
“Benhu, Your Excellency. But here is a more important name: Jesid. You have heard it?” Lord Oventroe had bid him use this name as a code.
The man narrowed his eyes. “Jesid?”
“Yes! Listen to me. Jesid the navitar. Does that get through to you?” He saw the man relax a bit, and to preserve his dignity, Benhu yanked away from his grip. Jesid was a name Quinn would know, Oventroe had said. By the man’s reaction, he did. So this was Titus Quinn. The knife was still pointed at his throat, but softer now.
Titus Quinn spat and wiped his face with his slimy arm. Benhu removed his jacket and offered it for a towel.
Accepting it, Quinn said, “Who sent you?”
Benhu now began to feel more in control, but wanted the knife put away before he divulged intelligences. He glanced at the blade. Quinn lowered it, but kept it ready.
“The lord you once met sent me. By the bright, do not say his name,
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