survived it. But where?
Up the slope he climbed, pausing now and again when a particular bizarrely caught his eye. He had been a student of the occult for too long to doubt the origin of these species. they came from the Metacosm, the world of Quiddity. He had never been able to find his way into that place himself, but he had collected over the last many decades several unique works on its geography and zoology, most of which he knew by heart. He had even sought out and interrogated men and women-most of them in Europe, and most magicians-who claimed to have found their way over the divide between this world, the Helter Incendo, and into that other. Some of them had proved to be living in a state of self-delusion, but there had been three who had convinced him beyond reasonable doubt that they had indeed ventured onto the shores of the dream-sea. One had even voyaged across it, and had lived among the islands of the Ephemeris a life of sybaritic excess, before his mistress had conspired to strip him of his powers and return him to the Cosm.
None of these travelers had profited from their journeys however; they had returned wounded and melancholy. The sweet simplicities of God and goodness no longer made sense to them, and human intercourse gave them no comfort. Life was meaningless, they had all then concluded, whether in this world or that.
Buddenbaum had listened carefully, learned what he could, then left them to their wretchedness. If ever he swam with spirits, he told himself, or walked upon a shore where drewns took living form, he would not whine about the absence of God. He would lead those spirits and shape those dreams, and gain in power and comprehension until time and place folded up before him.
He was perhaps closer to realizing that ambition than he'd thought. A door had opened to let these creatures through; and if it was still ajar, then he would take his chances and step through it, unprepared though he was.
He went down on his hands beside some pitifully wounded creature and whispered softly to her.
"Can you hear me?"
Her speckled eyes flickered in his direction. "Yes," she said.
"How did you get here?"
'TM ships---" she replied.
,After the ships. How did you get into the COSM?"
'@ Blessedm'n opened a way for us."
"And where is this waYT'
"Who are yout'
"Just tell me@'
,Are you with the childt' she said.
Something about the way she asked this question cautioned Buddenbaum.
"No," he said, "I'm not with the child. In fact@' he studied aw woman's face as he spoke, looking for clues, "in fact l,in here... to kill the child."
The woman grimaced through the pain. "Yes," she said. "Yes, yes, do that. Slaughter the little bitch and give her heart to the Blessedm'n-"
"I have to find the bitch flat," Buddenbaum said c@y.,the way. That's where she,ii be." The dying woman turned her head and stared UP the Slope- "DO you see the tentt'
"Yes."
"Beyond it, to the right, there are rocks, yes? Black rocks."
"I see them."
"On the other side."
"Thank you." Buddenbaum started to rise.
"The Blessedm'n,' the woman said, as he did so. "Tell him to say a prayer for me."
"I will," Buddenbaum replied. "What's your name?"
The woman opened her mouth to reply, but death was too quick for her. Unnamed, she died. Buddenbaum paused to close her eyes-the stare of the dead had always distressed him-then he headed on up the slope towards the rocks, and the way that lay concealed between.
As she stepped over the threshold, Maeve took one last look back at the world she had been born into. If Coker was right, she would not see it again. Another hour and it would be day. The weaker stars had already flickered out, and the bright ones were dimming. There was a faint light in the east, and by it she could see a man between the rocks, climbing with the gait of one who could barely keep from breaking into a dash. Though he was still some distance away, she recognized him by his coat and cane.
"Mr. Buddenbaum," she
Up the slope he climbed, pausing now and again when a particular bizarrely caught his eye. He had been a student of the occult for too long to doubt the origin of these species. they came from the Metacosm, the world of Quiddity. He had never been able to find his way into that place himself, but he had collected over the last many decades several unique works on its geography and zoology, most of which he knew by heart. He had even sought out and interrogated men and women-most of them in Europe, and most magicians-who claimed to have found their way over the divide between this world, the Helter Incendo, and into that other. Some of them had proved to be living in a state of self-delusion, but there had been three who had convinced him beyond reasonable doubt that they had indeed ventured onto the shores of the dream-sea. One had even voyaged across it, and had lived among the islands of the Ephemeris a life of sybaritic excess, before his mistress had conspired to strip him of his powers and return him to the Cosm.
None of these travelers had profited from their journeys however; they had returned wounded and melancholy. The sweet simplicities of God and goodness no longer made sense to them, and human intercourse gave them no comfort. Life was meaningless, they had all then concluded, whether in this world or that.
Buddenbaum had listened carefully, learned what he could, then left them to their wretchedness. If ever he swam with spirits, he told himself, or walked upon a shore where drewns took living form, he would not whine about the absence of God. He would lead those spirits and shape those dreams, and gain in power and comprehension until time and place folded up before him.
He was perhaps closer to realizing that ambition than he'd thought. A door had opened to let these creatures through; and if it was still ajar, then he would take his chances and step through it, unprepared though he was.
He went down on his hands beside some pitifully wounded creature and whispered softly to her.
"Can you hear me?"
Her speckled eyes flickered in his direction. "Yes," she said.
"How did you get here?"
'TM ships---" she replied.
,After the ships. How did you get into the COSM?"
'@ Blessedm'n opened a way for us."
"And where is this waYT'
"Who are yout'
"Just tell me@'
,Are you with the childt' she said.
Something about the way she asked this question cautioned Buddenbaum.
"No," he said, "I'm not with the child. In fact@' he studied aw woman's face as he spoke, looking for clues, "in fact l,in here... to kill the child."
The woman grimaced through the pain. "Yes," she said. "Yes, yes, do that. Slaughter the little bitch and give her heart to the Blessedm'n-"
"I have to find the bitch flat," Buddenbaum said c@y.,the way. That's where she,ii be." The dying woman turned her head and stared UP the Slope- "DO you see the tentt'
"Yes."
"Beyond it, to the right, there are rocks, yes? Black rocks."
"I see them."
"On the other side."
"Thank you." Buddenbaum started to rise.
"The Blessedm'n,' the woman said, as he did so. "Tell him to say a prayer for me."
"I will," Buddenbaum replied. "What's your name?"
The woman opened her mouth to reply, but death was too quick for her. Unnamed, she died. Buddenbaum paused to close her eyes-the stare of the dead had always distressed him-then he headed on up the slope towards the rocks, and the way that lay concealed between.
As she stepped over the threshold, Maeve took one last look back at the world she had been born into. If Coker was right, she would not see it again. Another hour and it would be day. The weaker stars had already flickered out, and the bright ones were dimming. There was a faint light in the east, and by it she could see a man between the rocks, climbing with the gait of one who could barely keep from breaking into a dash. Though he was still some distance away, she recognized him by his coat and cane.
"Mr. Buddenbaum," she
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