And just like that, with a little twist of space and time, Urszula and I were back on the mesa, at the edge of that bowl the rift had scoured and polished in the stone.
The rain had stopped and the winds had calmed, but a solid bank of clouds still filled the sky.
Lalibela cruised high overhead. When she spotted Urszula she curled down and alighted on a gathering of gnarled vines as thick as fire hoses.
My terrycloth robe still lay where it had fallen, soggy, but intact, the fibers having yet to revert to their original, rooty state. I wrung it out and pulled it on.
Urszula laughed and rubbed her arms, glorying in the return of her thick, gray hide. Her throaty chuckles trailed away as she stooped to retrieve the bits of her scaly armor.
“That visit. It was so brief. Is that all there is to be?”
“Beats me,” I said. “You being there at all kind of boggles my mind.”
“Does this mean I am dead … again?” She pressed the scaly segments of her armor against her torso and somehow they clung to her skin.
“You sound disappointed. I thought you hated it there.”
“I just … I didn’t have the chance … to absorb … what was happening.”
“Don’t worry about it. I mean, what’s wrong with having another option? Another place to go?”
“I fear … losing control.”
“It’s simple. Don’t touch me when I’m fading.”
“But do you suppose … I might fade on my own now? The way you do?”
I just looked at her and shrugged. “You’re asking me? Nothing makes sense to me anymore. It’s like nothing’s permanent. Nothing’s irreversible. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing.”
“I wouldn’t mind … going back,” she said, her eyes wistful. “For another taste.”
“Well, first let’s get your bug and get me back to the plains. And pronto, in case you’re on a quicker cycle than me. I need to spend some time with Luther.”
She summoned Lalibela with a sharp clap and a click of her tongue. The dragonfly responded immediately, clambering off the vines and lowering her thorax so we could climb into her saddle.
Urszula held her insect’s harness, and stroked the back of her head, gazing out into the mist. I had already climbed onto the saddle.
“So? Are we going?”
She clenched her eyes and shook her head, before hauling herself up onto Lalibela’s thorax. “Sorry. I am just not used to the idea of having two places to be. This was never a possibility before. It can be awkward, no? Whisking back and forth without warning?”
I sighed. “Welcome to my world. You’re just gonna have to learn how to surf.”
***
The village looked like an anthill that had just gotten stomped by a boot heel. Everyone was in a tizzy over a raid the Frelsians had just attempted. One of the turrets of Luther’s mansion had been blown apart. Piles of smoking debris littered the roofs of the cottages beneath.
Survivors were fleeing back to the foothills, harried by mantids and a contingent of Luther’s militia. The massive carcass of a dying Reaper lay upended on the plains, its stubby legs re-absorbing into its default, undifferentiated, slug-like state.
As Lalibela came in low, skimming the ground, I spotted Bern among the milling crowd. He was dressed for battle in leathery shoulder pads and an antique helmet with a wide brim. He had converted his walking stick into a stout staff taller than himself. An opening at one end flared wide like a blunderbuss.
