Dark Tales From Dandelion

1

She was being pulled from her mother, screaming, covered in blood and writhing. The Drake that held her seemed a mountain compared to her small size.

She was looking up at a half finished tower.

“What will you call it, Ali?” said a man to her right. The man had wings. They were in the air, flying. The wind vibrated around her ears like a mother’s soothing shoosh in the night.

“The Tower Of Tones. We will heal people here with the vibrations,” she said, smiling at the smooth black of the tower. It shone in the afternoon sun.

2

Pip looked at the cards they had Fished for Fiona—the failed attempt. Here goes … thought the sesnickie. They lit the Sly Grass joint they had rolled and inhaled the thick smoke deeply.

Pip had never tried a Fishing on themselves before. Have you tried looking in the mirror? It made more sense to the sesnickie now. If Fiona was some version of the Woman in White, it was no wonder that the Fishing had responded to her in such a queer way, not to mention the Jakeereeds’ strange attraction to her. Like Sylvester before, she influences the things around her, makes them react to her dreams, Pip thought. These cards may not work on her for this reason, but I am no Woman in White.

Pip went to the red pond. They put the card face down on the red grass, closed their eyes, opened them, making eye contact with their reflection in the pond, flipped the Tree of the Lost card over, accessed the RIGHT UNDERSTANDING and then rode the mind grooves.

3

Vermilion walked the sands of an infinite beach. The sea breathed in and out, coming close to his boots with its kiss. The sun was hot, and the sky looked almost white with the brightness of it. The smell of salt and marine slime filled this nostrils. It was nice here despite the heat on his back. Vermilion hummed to himself as her wiped sweat from his brow, picked up a few pebbles and began throwing them in the water.

Wait. That voice. The memory sent chills down Vermilion’s spine. Like gravel layered over a deeper, impossible tone, the voice had spoken in his mind. I was In the kitchen and then …

LOOSE STRINGS

Vermilion stopped throwing pebbles and reached for his seven-shooters. As if in response to his sudden awareness that he was surely not safe, a red shape rose from the waves, its head like a bird of prey, but the shape had no feathers. The red, he saw, was actually a dark pink, fleshy color. There were no eyes. Six legs rose out of the depths and started moving, walking the creature toward Vermilion. The beak-head turned to the side as if confused by Vermilion. It was just a bit shorter than him. He kept his guns trained on the creature until it was face to face with him. It sniffed at him, then splayed four legs in a quick movement that Vermilion sensed as violent and he fired four shots through its stomach. The spider-bird collapsed onto him. It smelled of rotting fish and its skin was impossibly slick and slimy like seaweed, ever illusive to a Vermilion’s hands as he tried to push it off of him.

Finally managing to push the shape off of him onto the sand, Vermilion gulped air that was not pungent with the stench of the spider. He felt he would puke, and—putting his guns aside—he attempted to wash himself off with water further away from the spider-bird’s corpse.

As he bent down to cup his hands, he saw three more pink shapes rising from the water. And then three more.

4

Quint felt like his life force was being sucked out of him. Though he was not moving, it was as if he was running uphill but had already expended most of his energy. The air was thick and heavy. Between the legs of one of the black shapes that sucked on his vibrations, Quint glimpsed the fruit of a bush he’d seen before, though the memory was not a good one.

Lysergy fruit, he thought. I don’t need any of that to know how completely fucked my current situation is.

He was somewhere in the Dead Lands. He lay on hard cracked sand, and the feeling of dread this place gave him was not helped by the phase-shifters that were feeding on his vibrations. They pulled at his skin with oil-black fingers. Quint could feel his existence … thinning. He would be gas soon, dispersing into the air of this desolate waste. There were too many—at least twenty—for him to fight off.

5

Perhaps the memory of the Fishing … perhaps it would be strong enough for Pip to manipulate the Loose String that Fiona had been pushed into. It was a powerful memory; memories had vibrations, so if both shared the memory …

I should be able to get her back into the memory, thought the sesnickie. Loose Strings are somewhat like the actual Strings, and memories are a type of potential reality after all.

Pip stared at the three Loose Strings in the kitchen. As with any Fishing, not everything was spelled out for the sesnickie, but a few things were somewhat clear: Fiona would need to do the Fishing on herself, which meant she’d need to get to Svargaloka. From there, she’d be able to get where she needed to; the Fishing would guide her the rest of the way.

How best to tell her, though? the sesnickie thought. That monster—Leere—will be watching her, I can count on that, her being the Woman in White in one way or the other. I’ll have to distract him while someone else talks to her.

Pip looked from the left String to the right. Vermilion or Quint?

The sesnickie went to the rip in space that sat the furthest left of the three Strings. It was black and swirled menacingly. Pip sniffed at it to get the vibrational scent in their brain. The picture of the place exploded into Pip’s brain and they Moved.

6

He’d killed nine now, but they did not stop coming. He found out very quickly that they were much faster on foot than he—the did have six legs, after all. Vermilion’s only choice was to fight them off.

One of them stuck a pointed, pink leg into the wound on Vermilion’s right forearm. He stared in shock at the bent, spider-like leg that would be taller than him if stretched out.

The spider-bird was rearing on hind legs for a fatal blow. The Drake dropped his gun, grabbed onto the leg that stabbed his forearm—with the hand from the same arm—which threw the creature off balance for a moment. Vermilion pulled the leg into his forearm further, then used his left gun to shoot the offending leg off with a Ghost Shot. The creature opened its fleshy pink beak to shriek.

Dropping to the ground, Vermilion grabbed the gun he’d let fall earlier, his back landing on the burning sand. He pulled both guns to center, merging them together, then shot directly into the beak of the spider-bird. The whole meaty head was taken off, leaving a gushing of blood in its place.

Vermilion rolled as another pointed leg jabbed at his face. He shot all six legs off of this new foe, then pushed the releases for his cylinders, flicked inward to open them, pulled them up over the wax-encased bullets on his hips—the last pair of wax loops he had—and shot the beak off of another spider-bird behind the now legless one.

They surrounded him now, and five of them jumped toward him, legs arching up in all directions to come in for the kill.

Vermilion breathed, and it was as if time had slowed for only a moment. There were more behind these five. His right forearm bled and hurt, pulsing its protest of his continued disregard for its need of rest and treatment.

He spun, moving faster than they could stab at him. Two stabbed each other, while the other three fell onto them, tripping and landing in a tangle of limbs. Vermilion appeared behind them, unloading all fourteen chambers on first these five, then those that approached from behind, taking down fourteen total spider-birds. It was no use, there were more, always more on this endlessly white beach. He used the muscle movements of a Ghost Shot to put as much distance as he could between himself and the creatures, but they were still faster. They jumped to strike once again, to kill.

What felt like a large, furry snake coiled itself around Vermilion’s torso. He started to panic, his breaths coming in ragged heaps. I’m dead. Another awful sea-creature is going to crush me to death. Then he saw the black claws of the serpentine beast ripping through two spider-birds.

Pip!

An image forcefully entered Vermilion’s consciousness: the kitchen he had been in before this Voidforsaken beach with these nightmares. Vermilion welcomed the sight in his mind and the vibrations thrumming within him. Pip was pushing many sounds and sights into the Drake’s consciousness as well, and as the two aligned in their vibrations, they Moved, and—thank the Void—ended up in the kitchen of the Manor House.

“He knows, Vermilion. Leere. He holds the Loose Strings in his pocket. He knows you have escaped, and we must work quickly,” Pip sent.

7

The sun beat down upon his face. His … face. I still have a face! He thought, reaching up with weak arms to touch it with brittle fingers—fingers that looked so old. His black veins could be seen everywhere now through skin made paper thin by the phase-shifters’ sucking. Quint coughed weakly at the thought of Thrast raging in his veins, of others being able to tell ….

Wishful thinking, Quint thought. I won’t last to tell the others. The phase-shifters … where were the phase-shifters?

“Cover him from the sun, Indicus,” said a low, flat voice. It sounded like Putnam. That dispassion …. Quint weakly turned his head. Fucking shit! I feel like I’ll break.

The shifters—wet not gone. Some lay around him on the cracked, sandy ground, but there was a group of oily black shapes surrounding the small plateau Quint lay on, though these had swords strapped to their hips.

“Give him water, then we will bring him home,” said the same placid voice.

“What good will this do?” said the one called Indicus. “Risking our home for one human?”

“That is no average human, Indicus. That, is Quint Costello. And he is well aware of where we live.”

The phase-shifter Indicus covered Quint in a very thin canvas sheet after giving him a drink of water. Quint was still unsure of the company he now kept. If they know I’ve been here before ….

“Callus?” Quint said weakly from underneath the canvas.

“Rest, Quint Costello; we will speak soon,” said the voice. Quint obliged, drifting off, dreaming of a field full of stargazer lilies that was on fire.

Quint awoke to a rhythmic marching of footsteps and cool air. The light outside of the canvas sheet was dim. His throat felt like the broken, dried sand of the Dead Lands.

“Water,” he rasped, but knew the phase-shifters could not hear over their marching. “Need … “ he cleared his throat, “water. Water!” The last was loud enough and the canvas was pulled back. They were inside of a giant tower made of sand that had many levels. Phase-shifters walked on the twenty or so landings that encircled the atrium all the way to the top. Like an anthill, Quint knew each level led into the ground underneath the Dead Lands where phase-shifters lived, trained or ran businesses.

Their own small tower of Ken-Phae, Quint thought. Oh, Putnam …. He mourned his loss as the phase-shifter lifted a water skin to his lips. The many Clevers that ran through the halls of this construct were planned by Quint, though not many people on Dandelion knew of this project—if they did, Quint could have been in quite a bit of trouble. The phase-shifters that were sent to the Dead Lands were outcast: those that were caught sucking on thrummers, thieves, murderers; but there were also those that did not approve of how the Tower of Ken-Phae supported itself by growing Roxy Flowers and selling the powder all over Dandelion.

This tower, built up as well as into the ground, like a giant sand dune, was filled with either reformed criminals or such shifters who were brave enough to stand against the might of the Tower of Ken-Phae far to the northeast. Of course, there were those here that simply did not find a home in their original tower, yet also wanted to continue their training in the seven pillars of Ken-Phae. Putnam had not approved of this commission at first—that is, until he knew that Callus was involved. Though Quint knew of their political differences, Putnam would often begin humming that phase-shifter tune after speaking of Callus. A number of times, Quint had even heard the reserved phase-shifter singing the Voiddamned song.

Oh how I know

Oh how it’s true

Sweet the scent of stargazers

We gazed as nevers bloomed

I don’t know the questions

I have now an answer

My no time is a peace song

My answer is you

Quint weakly hummed as he took his mouth off of the water skin and thought of his friend, a lump growing in his cracked throat. A ball of melancholy filled his stomach and a thin film covered his eyes, obscuring his vision. They all look just like him, Quint thought, looking at the oily-black shapes. Sound like him, walk like him. He nodded to the phase-shifter who had given him drink and the oily-black shape withdrew the water skin.

It was near impossible for Quint to tell phase-shifters apart without knowing them personally and getting in tune with their individual mannerisms. He looked from face to face and found Callus. She stared at him with white eyes like blazing suns in the black night of her skin.

They brought him to a chamber on the left side of the large entry hall, which Quint judges took about five tiks with all of the shifter foot traffic, though the hall would have been a distance to cross without the added congestion.

The chamber was dimly lit with thrumming lamps, and held several beds, some of which were occupied by black shapes in bandages. The phase-shifters deposited Quint onto an open bed next to one of the injured, then turned around to go.

“Callus,” Quint said. Callus turned around.

“Not now, Quint Costello. For now, you rest. I do not like straining my ears to hear your weak voice. Rest—then we will talk,” Callus said. Quint stared at her for a moment, mouth agape, then he closed it and nodded to her. She smiled as much as Putnam would have—not really a smile, more a slight tightening of the lips, a slightly raised cheek. Quint closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

8

When Quint regained consciousness, his head hurt like he’d been heavily drinking before sleep. He turned to look at the shifter in the bed beside his, but couldn’t manage it. He was still too weak from the shifters that had sucked on his vibrations. Fucking greedy Dead Land phase-shifters, he thought. Not all outcast phase-shifters came to this tower of sand to continue practice the Seven Pillars of Ken-Phae. Just like the shifters that Fiona killed in the Shadow Wood. Those probably came from the Dead Lands, seeking thrummers to feed on.

The thrumming lights on the ceiling were leaving blue-green phantoms inside his eyelids whenever he blinked. It was not helping his headache. A nurse came and gave him water along with a yellow, pasty slop that he tried to pretend was butter and grits. After eating the paste, he could feel the strength returning to him as the vibrations of the food replenished his expended supply. Some time later, Callus came to him.

“Hello, Quint. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, I’ll admit. Is the porridge new?”

“Our researchers have made some interesting discoveries of late. Some, I would guess, that even the shifters in the Tower of Ken-Phae have not made,” Callus said. Quint adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses. In his weakened state, he hadn’t noticed they sat askew on his nose. He scratched at his beard. Callus shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Of course, those discoveries wouldn’t be possible without what you’ve given us.”

“Given you?” Quint was perplexed, distracted by his regained awareness and feeling. The porridge—no matter how terrible—was working wonders on him. He studied his hand, and felt he could … see better, better even than before the shifters had attacked him.

“The lights—the Clevers—Quint? Quint! Are you even listening?” Callus said.

“Oh! Yes, yes. Of course, sorry. The—um—porridge. Um. What’s in it?”

“There is a small amount of Lysergy, with the organic Fester plant, the leaves of which are the main ingredient in Boosts—before all the chemicals are put in—then there are vitamins, a bit of squim juice, protein, steroids—“

“Illusions! That’s a lot of shit, Callus! Fuck!” Quint said, feeling his pulse quicken. “Lysergy?!? What if I don’t want to see the truth just now?”

“If you’d prefer, I could put you back to sleep. Or give you back to the broken phase-shifters of the Dead Lands?” she said, her face remaining composed, though her eyes danced slightly with amusement.

Quint blew air out exasperatedly. “Fine. It’s fine. If I go jump off the top of the Tower of Truth, though, you know who to blame,” he said.

“Your polluted psyche?” she offered. Quint would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t feel like his eyelids were glued to his forehead. He pointed a shaky finger at the glass of water sitting just out of reach on a brown side table.

“Could you?” he asked. She got up and handed him the water, then sat back down. Quint took a drink.

“Putnam?” Callus asked. Water burned Quint’s throat as it went down the wrong tube and he coughed violently, spitting water all over his front. Callus got up again to try and help, but Quint waved her off. At the tail end of his coughing fit, blood started coming out. Now Callus actually showed concern.

Voiddamned Thrast. And how do I tell her about Putnam?

“Voids, Quint. You have it, don’t you? How long?”

He looked at her, still coughing a bit, and cleared his throat loudly. “Oh, a year or so,” he said dismissively. Callus still looked at him with concern in her eyes. “It’s nothing! I’ve lived a full life! I’m old, Callus.”

“And how does Putnam feel? Or the sesnickie?”

Voids …. Quint sighed. “Callus … Putnam is—I don’t know where he is. He touched an endoheist potential and—well, he’s … gone, now, Callus.” Quints voice broke on the last word. He removed his circle-rimmed glasses.

Her mouth worked. “I don’t understand why Putnam would do something so … irresponsible.” She hissed the last word out acidly as if anger would dissolve her grief.

Quint wiped his eyes. “We were in the catoptric cistula of the Forever Forest. It was … contained—by the walls of the contraption. He did it to save us.”

Her eyes dug into him. “Who is us?”

Quint told Callus everything, from the mantra scramble bug, to the Eraser, to the Woman in White. And Leere.

“The Necrolore … “ Quint said. Callus hissed, baring white teeth.

“Do not speak it!”

“That’s what this is all about, Callus! Leere—the Necrolore. Putnam died keeping Rakshasas away from us. They needed the Drake’s daughter for … something. And the Eraser is important as well. I don’t know if they have it now or not, Callus, but they are putting things together, and they’ve been using my friends to do it. All of this talk about the Necrolore … even I’m starting to believe the stories are true,” Quint said, though it all still seemed silly, almost too close to the stories, like someone was purposefully making all the connections to sell the idea to the masses. And Voiddamned Phase-shifters have always been superstitious. Putnam … a twinge of pain, and the ball of melancholy reformed in his stomach. Perhaps I could do you the honor of honoring your beliefs old friend. Perhaps.

“They are true, Quint Costello. And you are a fool if you do not believe by now,” Callus said.

“Well—“

“‘The key travels to its Mother to open her head. O’ children, my children, don’t get out of bed. Here is fear, here is Leere, here is death of the lore. The dreams in your little heads will be His evermore,’” Callus quoted. Quint remained silent. “‘When the Voidrings appear, it is Leere, it is Leere! When His fingers are thrumming the Strings. You will all disappear, it is Leere, it is Leere! With the bite of the sesnickie’s teeth.’ How many Loose Strings were there?”

“Three,” Quint said.

“‘The key travels to its Mother?’” she said. “What else do you think happened in the valley? What else, Quint, could the Voidrings be but the three Loose Strings? You may think these are nursery rhymes to scare children, but phase-shifters take them very seriously. For you, things will change, yes. You’ll likely be enslaved or worse. But we—we will cease to exist.” She paused, looking around the room. The shifter beside Quint remained unconscious, but Callus still lowered her voice. “And the Drake. He said the Merrilore told him that his daughter would open the Woman in White’s head? What does that sound like to you?”

“‘’The key travels to its Mother to open her head,’“ Quint said. “I suppose you’re right, Callus. Perhaps I did not want to believe, though the signs were in front of me. Regardless—“ he tried to stand up, but instead fell to the hard floor to the right of his bed.

“Quint!” Callus said, rushing to help him back up. “You are too weak!”

Quint adjusted his spectacles. “Regardless of prophesy,” he huffed out, “or any conspiracy that may be coming to fruition, I really must be on my way. I have to help them, Callus,” he said as he sat down on the bed with Callus’s assistance. She went back to her chair at the end of the bed.

“You are in no state to be helping anyone. Tomorrow you should be strong enough to travel. The vitamins and steroids in the porridge will restore you quickly, but you need more rest for them to work. Besides, I need time to talk to the council about this. I’m sure they’ll all be in agreement,” Callus said, standing up. Quint moved to do the same, but remembered his previous attempt and thought better of it.

“About what?” he said, sitting back on his pillow. “Going with you, of course.”

“To my house?” That’s where I’ll go first.”

“Perhaps,” she said, pondering, “or perhaps Lavender. Straight to the source. That’s where Leere will be, or at least where he will end up. We will need an army to get through the Rakshasas, not to mention the empty ones.”

Quint chuckled nervously and ran a hand through his tangled hair. “The way I go lies death,” he said in low tones. “You know that right?”

“The way you go is our only chance for life , Quint Costello. Get rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.

9

“The time you spend in there may be skewed,” Pip sent.

“Like Svargaloka?” Vermilion asked.

“Precisely. And if we’re lucky, it’ll work in our favor. If not, well … let’s just hope that it does. You remember what to tell her?”

“Fishing, Svargaloka, you get in the way you get out,” Vermilion recited.

“Good. I believe Leere has put most of his focus on Fiona’s Loose String; the scent changes from click to click—but where I’m going should bring his focus for long enough,” Pip sent.

“And where is that exactly?”

“Into Quint’s Loose String; first to find where the old nutsack is, then to the Fang Tower. Didn’t you … feel something when I came into your String?” Pip asked.

“Now that you mention it, yeah. It was like a … shifting.”

“Right. I think it gives Him pause when I enter His Loose Strings. I’ll go into Quint’s when you go into Fiona’s , then I’ll come in for you if you’re not out when I get back.”

“And this is the only way to get Prudance back?”

“Yes. The Fishing said it was so, I’m afraid,” Pip sent. Vermilion gave Pip a searching stare, then nodded.

“Ok then. Ready?” Vermilion said.

The sesnickie nodded as they both jumped into the Loose Strings—Vermilion in the middle String and Pip in the String to the right.

10

“And just how do you expect us to defeat all of the Rakshasas of Lavender, Callus? I’m sorry, but this is suicide you speak of.”

“No, Hammon. Inaction is suicide. Must I say it again?” Callus said. She stood in her spot at the semi-circular black rock table. The chamber was lit low with thrumming lamps that reflected back to Quint’s eyes from the slick black floor as he stared down and listened to the phase-shifters argue. “The Necrolore,” the phase-shifters around her winced, “is coming. Quint Costello built our Clevers; he is the reason we have light in our caverns. Why would he lie to us?”

“I do not question the validity of Quint Costello’s testimony. Nor do I question your interpretations, Callus. You are our Agus. I would follow you anywhere, but it is my duty—“

“It is your duty to support me, Indicus. The prophesies are being fulfilled. Before Quint even came to us, there were sightings of Leere at the Tower of Truth. Rakshasas come to Dandelion more and more—“

“Callus, they will destroy us with the vibrations. We lack the numbers and the weaponry. Perhaps if those shifters at the Tower of Ken-Phae—“

Callus slammed her fists down on the table.

“You would ask those that cast us out? You would feel more confident in a fool’s plea for assistance? They do not move. There isn’t time for the bickering they would put us through, we haven’t even the time for our own bickering. The key has reached the Mother’s head. We may have days, Shallum, before the Necrolore comes! Oh, stop flinching, Hammon,” Callus said.

“Let us say we give you a unanimous vote, Agus Callus. How do you plan to get to Lavender?” Shallum said.

“I have a few ideas about that,” spoke a familiar voice in Quint’s head.

Pip!

The sesnickie uncoiled all eighteen feet of themself from the right side of the council hall. Pip’s white coat of fur stuck out against the black floor and walls of the room. They must have Moved directly into the room, Quint thought. I’d gotten used to Pip not being able to Move in the Endynas Valley.

“Hello, Callus,” Pip sent, then nodded their head to Quint who sat to Callus’s right at the council table. “Ye olde nutsack.” Only half of the sesnickie’s eighteen foot body could fit within the semi-circle of the table.

“The sesnickie?” Callus said.

“Pip,” Quint said.

“Piplinigous Artfelious-Raterrin-Gankvote-Dalidan-Gostine,” Pip sent. “Are any of you aware of what is in the vast cellars underneath the Fang Tower?

Pip looked around the room. Not one of the six black shapes made any sign of recognition. Quint didn’t know either.

“Bones. Sesnickie bones, and their teeth. Mounds of them.” Pip allowed the information to settle. The white eyes of the six phase-shifters opened wide. “And if they are not willing to provide you with some of those teeth to be sung into blades by thrummers, then I have fifty-nine of my own left, and I will give them all to you if you use them to help my friends.”

Muttering among the phase-shifters, and then Shallum said, “even sixty blades … in the hands of our blade masters … we might stand a chance.”

“I am hoping I still hold some sway with the sesnickie of the Fang Tower, but I will carry you to Lavender in small groups on my back if I have to. I need your word—before I go and ask them—that you will fight. A very dear friend of ours will be at the top of the Tower of Hate. She is the only one that can stop the Necrolore from being created. We need you if we are to stop the Rakshasas … if we are to stop Him,” Pip sent.

“I am called Chessis, sesnickie—sorry—Pip,” said a female phase-shifter to Quint’s right. “What you offer is very generous, but there are so many Rakshasas. Even with an army of sesnickie blade equipped masters, we would be outnumbered three to one.”

“You are also forgetting,” said Indicus, “that phase-shifters cannot travel by way of sesnickie. We will die in the in between place.”

Quint cringed internally thinking of Putnam.

Pip sent a pleasant mind smile to all. “My apologies. In my haste I did forget that detail, but do not fear. There is another way, if a bit slower. At the top of the Tower of Truth, here in the Dead Lands, there is a door that leads to the Tower of Hate.” Pip paused, allowing this to settle.

“Go on, Pip,” Callus encouraged. “We will go there later to see this door. For now, please continue.”

“Thank you, Callus. I have a friend who is a Drake. We plan to go to the Great Drake Halo after I have talked with the sesnickie and returned here with their answer,” Pip sent.

“To ask the Rakshasa hunters if they will join a group of rogue phase-shifters?” said Phadrion, a slightly taller phase-shifter e woman who sat to the right of Chessis.

Pip sniffed out. “The sesnickie have an agreement with the Drakes—hence the store of bones and fangs in the cellars—we provide the Drakes with the materials for their fang bullets and bone grips on their guns—all vibration repelling. If anyone is going to want to aid in an effort against Rakshasas—specifically one with a small army of phase-shifters armed with sesnickie blades—it will be those that were enslaved by them: the Drakes.”

Hammon, who sat in the middle of the table facing the sesnickie said, “none of this answers my original question, though. Why are we doing all of this? Is it worth going to such lengths at the word of a human and sesnickie?”

“When Quint told me of these things, he had not made the connection of the child with our prophesy, Hammon. Why would he make up such a story?” Callus said.

“I mean no offense, Quint Costello, but perhaps he has his own motivations for destroying the Hate? There have been—“

“Now wait just a Voiddamned minute!” Quint boomed. The air grew thick and dark and the phase-shifters looked away like a pack of dogs averting their gaze from that of the Alpha. “I’ve sat here, tolerating your politics and your bickering while my friend Fiona and her daughter are Void-knows-where, possibly being torn apart by some horned creature that thinks he’s Leere. If you don’t want to help, that’s fine. If my story doesn’t matter to you, also fine! But you’re not going to sit there and call me a liar, wasting my fucking time while I could be doing something about all of this.” Quint did not remember standing up. The shifters were bowed over the table with the weight of his Seru. “The kid was carried to her Mother. The Merrilore—that’s what the Drake called Her, Void knows if it was the true one from the stories or not—said the child would open the Mother’s head. That part is over. I don’t know what Pip’s talking about with the Tower of Hate, but if that’s where Fiona is, or Ali—or whoever the fuck she is—if that’s where she went, that’s where I’m going. If it fits your cunt prophesy, well you’d better hurry the fuck up and go. Putnam died so we could do this—died killing Rakshasas, alone. If you won’t try as a group, well … I’ll come back here when I’m done with the Hate. I constructed your thrumming lamps and your Clevers. I can collapse then just as easily as I built them.” He breathed raggedly and realized his old, Thrast-infected fingers had clawed into the black table top, leaving white scratch marks in the marble. “So what’s it gonna be? Save your skin from the Necrolore? Or wait for me to come back and do His job for Him?”

Quint let go of the Seru. The room’s natural pressure and light returned and the phase-shifters resumed their straight-backed demeanors. They all looked at eachother as if conversing mentally.

“Threats?” Pip sent only to Quint.

“I’m not much for politics, Pip, you know that. I’m done with this shit,” Quint said in answer, then started around the table to stand next to Pip facing the phase-shifter council. “I’m going with Pip. I’ll give you until we get back to answer.” And with that, Quint climbed onto the back of the sesnickie, adjusting his glasses once he’d made it up, then the pair disappeared from the room.

11

Pip arrived in the kitchen of the Manor House, Quint’s familiar weight pressing into their back just behind the shoulder blades.

The Loose String is still there, thank the Void; though Quint’s and Vermilion’s have collapsed.

“The Strings … only one remains … Fiona’s?” Quint asked.

Pip nodded their head.

“It was my way of saving the two of you—though you seemed alright—while also distracting Leere from what Vermilion needs to do,” Pip sent.

“Which is?”

“Teach Fiona how to Fish. Now I have to fish Vermilion out. Are you coming?”

“And Fiona?” Quint said.

“She has another path to go down,” Pip sent.

“And how do you know this?”

“A Fishing … look, I’ll explain it all later. For now, I need to get Vermilion out. Coming?”

“I’ll stay out here. Don’t forget me, worm.”

“That is highly offensive, Quint,” Pip sent.

“Better than ‘Ye Olde Nutsack,’” Quint said.

Pip jumped into the Loose String.

“No. There is another way. You get in the same way that you get out,” Vermilion said. “And when you know where to go—where the Fishing tells you to go—use the fractal fields to get there. Trust the vibrations.”

As soon as Fiona looked away to the other members of the wedding party—it seemed Leere had become more … creative with Fiona’s Loose String—Pip coiled their body around Vermilion’s and Moved.

They arrived back in the kitchen next to Quint.

“I thought you were going to the sesnickie as well?” Vermilion said.

“No time. It took longer than expected to retrieve Quint,” Pip sent.

“Not my fucking fault,” Quint said.

“No, phase-shifters aren’t exactly an … open people; even the alternative group in the Dead Lands is a bit stuffy,” Pip sent.

“I want to find Prudance now,” Vermilion said. “I thought you had a plan.”

Pip froze. Inevitable, thought the sesnickie. He has been quite patient. “Vermilion … you have to let her go. The Fishing—she is here—at the Manor House, but—”

“Where?” Vermilion spat, his face growing red, his giant hands moving toward his guns. He cocked his head to indicate his thinning patience.

“Out in the stargazers, Vermilion, but listen, she has to—”

Vermilion was gone, though—through the dining room door.

12

Fiona was marrying Carter underneath the Lone Shadow Tree behind the Manor House. Quint was officiating the wedding. Pip, Leslie and Pohsib sat in the audience looking on. Leslie was … scowling? She didn’t remember that happening before. Why would she remember it? This is the first time this had happened. The only time. Pip sent mind smiles and tears. Pohsib had a big smile on. The shadow tree seemed to be dancing with the winds of Spring I. Something was wrong. Carter was no longer here. He was replaced by Vermilion. She remembered the Loose String.

“Vermilion? What … is that you? I mean the one that was in the kitchen with me?” Fiona asked.

“Fiona. You have to get to Svargaloka. I can’t talk long. He can’t see us right now but he soon will,” Vermilion said.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Pip came in here. He’s found something out. He said it would be too obvious if he came to you. You need the three cards that Pip failed to Fish for you and you need to go to Svargaloka once you have them. I can tell you how to get there,” Vermilion said.

“I know how to get there, you just smoke—”

“No. There is another way. You get in the same way that you get out,” he said. “And when you know where to go—where the Fishing tells you to go—use the fractal fields to get there. Trust the vibrations.”

She looked away at the other members of the wedding party. They all stood frozen staring at her with the same expressions on their faces. “What do you mean ‘you get in the same way that you get out?’ ” she said, turning her head back to him. “Vermilion?” but he was gone. The wedding party came to life again.

She was watching Putnam who took the form of the pleasant manservant that he wore the most, walking in front of a host of chained Rakshasas through a dry, sanded landscape. It was so hot, Fiona felt like someone had touched a burning skillet to her back.

“Come, Vance. We have to get them water or they’ll die,” Putnam said.

“Wasn’t that kinda the point o’ all that shit back there?” Vance asked, wiping his brow. He carried his helmet between left arm and torso.

“I’m sorry that you had a relapse on the Veil, Vance. Vibrations are the sweetest drug. I can hardly blame you.”

“Too bad you can’t change into some sorta fuckin’ water demon or some shit anymore. You sure you stuck that way?”

“Quite sure. This is the result of traveling between potentials when you’re a phase-shifter.”

13

She was fucking the goat faced, red cloaked creature, but it wasn’t exactly physical. He was a mist-like substance, not quite there. It was like he wasn’t a part of this reality, or was fading from it. They were inside of a cave in the side of a mountain. There sat a coarse, pointy bush beside her with a strange fruit growing from its branches. Though the creature didn’t seem to have actual form, she could feel it inside of her. It felt familiar somehow, like she’d done this several times before. The creature stabbed her in the shoulder with a sesnickie tooth and she went swirling back into the Void.

She was in Svargaloka at the checkpoint by the mushroom, tree and pond that overlooked the enormity of the Daisy Forest. She sat across from herself, but she was not herself, she was Pip. Pip had just failed in their attempts to Fish two cards for Fiona. Pip Fished another.

“Again, the mind grooves shut me out. I'm terribly sorry, Fiona. I hate for your first experience to be a failed attempt,” Pip said, not meeting Fiona’s eyes and shuffling the deck. Pip felt the hotness that comes with being under the pressure of having given someone an expectation and then the inevitable shame that comes from not being able to perform. They accessed the RIGHT UNDERSTANDING to try and at least understand what was happening, but nothing came of it. It was utterly baffling to Pip, and they wished they had a more experienced sesnickie to discuss this with.

“Nothing,” Pip said, looking down at the cards then back up to Fiona. “I’m sorry, Fiona. Three Fishings in a row. I’m going to look into this, and I'll keep attempting to ride the grooves of these Fishings.

Wait. I’m not Pip, I’m Fiona. Why am I—

“LOOK!” a voice said in her head. She looked.

“It’s alright, Pip,” Fiona said, obviously trying to spare Pip by hiding some of the disappointment from her voice, ”why don't you just try it one more time, and then we can give it a rest? At least for today.” She gave them a playful smile and bent her head down to find their eyes. Fiona raised the sesnickie’s eyes with her own, and Pip nodded.

“Yes, I think that is a good idea. Thank you, Fiona. One more time, then.”

Fiona rode the mind grooves.

Fish, closed eyes, eye contact, card flip, RIGHT UNDERSTANDING, mind groove, wall.

She didn’t get any further than Pip had when they’d Fished these cards for her, but she knew how to do it now. It was just a different way to use the vibrations. She knew that if she hadn’t had this first hand experience, she wouldn’t have learned how to do it, but now she knew.

“Pip?” Fiona asked from inside the sesnickie’s skull.

Her point of view immediately shifted into her own head after this. Pip was across from her. She saw that they held the three cards. Fiona took the three cards from Pip’s hands.

“Fiona, what are you doing?” Pip asked. Fiona did not respond. She put the cards into the lefthand breast pocket of her shirt. “Fiona?” Pip called. It was the last thing she heard.

She was with Carter. He was asking her where the Eraser was. They were alone underneath the Lone Shadow Tree.

“Where is it? Do you know? I just wanna see it,” Carter said.

Her husband.

Why shouldn’t she tell him? Yet she felt strange.

“I’ve been working so hard. I just want to see its shiny surface. I’ve heard so many things about it, but I have no way of knowing if any of it is true,” Carter said.

“I don’t know where it is, Carter. If I did, I’d tell you. Did you try asking … ” she hesitated. Pohsib had it last, right? “Pohsib had it last, right?”

“I asked Pohsib. He didn’t know where it was. I think he’s hiding it from me. Can’t you feel it, Fiona? Try to feel it. Show me where it is.”

She tried to do as he asked. He had been working hard after all. And if all he wanted was to look at it ….

She could feel it. It was buried—beneath the shadow tree. Beneath her. Underneath the same spot where she’d stood when she’d married the man who was sitting with her.

“I—”

“Yes?” He asked, moving his face forward in anticipation. He grinned in an unpleasant way that did not touch his eyes.

“It’s right underneath … ” she stopped again as he moved closer, putting a hand on her thigh. This was wrong. Carter was … wrong. “Pip’s Fishing table in the common room.” She exhaled.

“Thank you, darling,” he said, then he leaned into her fully and kissed her forcefully on the lips. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to push him away but he was pressed up against her so hard that she couldn’t move. His face was changing from soft flesh to cold hard bone. She could feel her face bleeding as the skull that pressed into her cut her with the jagged nostril holes. It was the beast in the red cloak. The pure blue sky turned black with night.

Before Fiona could think, the thing had stabbed her in the shoulder with the sesnickie tooth that Carter had used to kill the Woman in White.

“We have something better in mind for you, dear. Something more … symbolic,” the creature said, though she saw no mouth move to speak.

“Leere,” she said through clenched teeth. The pain of her stab wound was terrible. He still held her down with his arms and legs, pinning her to the ground. She saw the shadow tree waving its pitch black branches in greeting to her down here on the ground.

“Yes, you can call me that. I’ve been around before. I’ll be around again and all that drivel. Though this time, I’m trying to make it my last. You’re gonna help with that, or I should say, you already have. Thank you for healing your daughter by the way! It’s exactly what I needed to … well … let’s just say, help everybody to—get along,” Leere said. “Oh! I brought you something!” And with that, he ripped off Fiona’s clothing with his horns. He took them off of her while keeping her pinned down, then slid an embroidered dress over her head and pulled it down to fit. “There! Now isn’t that so nice. Carter will just love this. Again, Thank you for all your help, Fiona. Couldn’t have done it without you. I’ll be sure to keep you dead when the realities merge—as a courtesy. You won’t want to live there. I worry you … wouldn’t fit in.” He fitted a noose around her neck and pulled it tight until she could barely breathe or swallow, then he lay her down on the ground and walked over to where the other end of the rope lay draped over a branch of the shadow tree. In this time of relative freedom, Fiona tried to run. Leere laughed. He yanked her back to the ground, dragged her back, and then pulled the rope until Fiona was dangling over the ground, her feet kicking at the air. He tied the slack around the trunk of the tree and knitted it.

“To you, Fiona! To you!” Leere said, raising his hand in the gesture of leavetakings. Then he turned around and walked to the Manor House.

I’m going to die. Dangling from the tree where I was married to Carter … wearing my wedding dress.