She drank some water, careful not to spill any. The eggs she left alone. Save them for real hunger pangs.

After half an hour she could feel the air becoming a lot cooler as the day’s heat drained away into the sky. She zipped the fleece back up and set off again. Her feet were sore. The boots were not designed for this kind of walking. At least the terrain was level.

As she trudged on, she allowed herself to wonder what she was going to do when she did reach the Commonwealth again. She knew she’d have only one chance, one choice. Too many people were looking for her. Giving in to Living Dream was something she instinctively shied away from. But Laril, for all he was loyal and trying to help, was in way over his head. Who isn’t? Though perhaps he could negotiate with some faction. But which one? The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced she should contact Oscar Monroe. If anyone could offer her sanctuary, it would be ANA itself. And if it was going to use her, there really was no hope.

Araminta kept plodding forward. Hunger and lack of true sleep were getting to her. She felt exhausted but knew she couldn’t stop. She had to cover as much ground as possible during the night, for she wouldn’t be going anywhere during the day. Her limbs ached, especially her legs, as she just kept walking. Every time she stopped to drink, it was more painful to haul the flagons onto her back again. Her spine was really beginning to feel the weight. It was all she could do to ignore the throbbing in her feet as her boots rubbed already raw skin. Occasionally she’d shiver from the now-icy night air, a great spasm running the length of her body. Whenever that happened, she’d pause for a minute, then shake her head like a dog coming out of water and take that step again. I cannot quit.

There were so many things she needed to do, so many things she had to try to accomplish to stop the whole Living Dream madness. Her mind began to drift. She saw her parents again, not the ones she argued with constantly in her late teens but as they were when she was growing up, indulging her, playing with her, comforting her, buying her a pony for Christmas when she was eight. Even after the divorce she hadn’t bothered to call them. Too stubborn, or more like stupid. And I can just hear exactly what they’d say if I told them I’d met Mr. Bovey and was going multiple. Then there was that time just after Laril went offplanet, clubbing with Cressida most nights, going on dates. Being free, having fun discovering what it was like to be young and single in the Commonwealth. Having independence and a little degree of pride with it.

She wondered if any of that life would ever come back. All she wanted now was for this dangerous madness to be over, for Living Dream to be defeated, and for herself to become Mrs. Bovey. Was it possible to fade back into blissful obscurity? Other people had done it; countless thousands had had their moment of fame or infamy. Mellanie must have achieved it.

The timer in Araminta’s exovision flashed purple, along with an insistent bleeping that wound down auditory nerves, drawing her attention back out of the comfortable reverie. She let out a groan of relief and shrugged out of the harness. At least it wasn’t so cold now. As she held up the flagon to drink, she saw lights crawling across the starfield. She’d lived in Colwyn City long enough to recognize starships when she saw them. “What the hell?” That was when she realized the Silfen path was now behind her. “Ozzie!” Her mind felt a host of quiet emissions within the gaiafield, originating somewhere nearby. She hurriedly guarded her own thoughts, making sure nothing leaked out to warn anyone of her presence.

So where in Ozzie’s name am I?

Araminta looked around again, trying to make out the countryside. There wasn’t much to see, though she thought one section of the horizon was showing a tiny glow. Smiling, she sat down to wait.

Half an hour later, she knew she was right. A pale pink wash of light began to creep upward as dawn arrived. Now she could see she was still in a desert, but this one was mostly ocher rocks and crumbling soil rather than the featureless ocean of sand she’d left behind. The drab brown ground was broken by small patches of green-blue vegetation, hardy little bushes that looked half-dead. Tall fronds of pale cream grass tufts lurked in fissures and stone spills, all of them dry and withered. Away in the distance, half-lost in air shimmer, a broad line of mountains spiked up into the sky. Their height was impressive, yet she couldn’t see any snow on their peaks. The desert stretched all the way across to them. In the other direction was a low ridge, which she began to appreciate was at least five miles away, if not farther. This landscape was so relentlessly monotonous, it was hard to judge perspective.

Whatever, she was on a dirt track made by vehicles of some kind. It led down a long gentle slope to a junction with a solid concrete road. Just the sight of it was a huge relief. From living out in the boondocks of an External planet for nearly twenty years, she knew just how rare roads could be, and that was in the agricultural areas. Everybody used regrav capsules these days. To find this here in the middle of a desert, she’d been lucky. Very lucky.

Thank you, she told the Silfen Motherholme.

She took another drink of water and set off down the track. The distance had fooled her, after all; the road seemed to stay in the same place no matter how much ground she covered toward it. As she strode along the slope, she saw a few regrav capsules flying beyond the ridge; in the other direction nothing was moving above the vast desert. At least that told her which way to turn once she reached the junction. There was obviously some kind of settlement on the other side of the ridge. A few cautious examinations of the gaiafield confirmed that that was where the buzz of minds was situated.

It took her another three hours to reach the crest of the ridge. Again, “ridge” was deceptive. The closer she got, the larger it rose above her. It was like an elongated hill. And the luck that had delivered the road had clearly abandoned her; there wasn’t a single vehicle moving along it all morning.

By the time she finally limped to the crest, she was ready for just about any sight apart from the one that greeted her. She’d almost been right about the elongated hill. The ridge was actually a crater wall-a big crater, complete with a beautiful circular lake that must have been at least twenty miles across. This was the mother of all oases; the inner slopes were all smothered in verdant woodland and cultivated terraces she thought might be vineyards. The road dipped away ahead of her, winding into a small town whose colorful ornate buildings were visible amid a swath of tall trees. Despite being completely exhausted, aching everywhere, and feeling quite worried about the painful state of her feet, Araminta couldn’t help choking out a little laugh as she stared down at the exquisite vista before her. She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and slowly discarded the flagon harness from her back. It was placed carefully behind some rocks at the side of the road, followed by the basket of eggs. With her shoulders rejoicing at the absence of weight, she started off down the slope.

People stared at her as she hobbled into town. Hardly surprising. She still had her silly conical hat on, and her clothes were a mess, filthy from mud and repeated deluges. She guessed she must smell, too. When she allowed herself to receive the local gaiafield, she could sense the instinctive surprise everyone felt at the sight of her. Plenty of dismay was mingled in there as well.

The little town’s buildings were mostly clapboard, painted a variety of bright colors; there were very few modern construction materials visible. It gave the town a comfortably quaint feel. The quiet old style suited the placid lake.