Diamond didn’t scream, but others did.

A voice followed him, and then another voice, and someone was laughing. Fighting to control his body, he managed to roll on his back and look up. One landing jutted farther into the air than any other. Three people peered over the railing. The faces were already too distant to wear names. More words were shouted, none making sense, and then one of the faces vanished and someone leaped into the air, arms flattened against the long body and the head down, leading the way.

Then the wind gusted, and Diamond began whirling again. A second large landing was under him, reaching up for him, and he tucked too late, one hand slapping the railing, two fingers shattering. That was when the fear took hold. Diamond rolled, flailing with his arms, his legs. He ended up on his belly, falling slower. Arms and legs were bent upwards. The shirt flapped and the trouser legs popped and his thick long curly hair rose up from his scalp. Tiny details offered themselves to his astonished eyes: three boys in brown uniforms racing along a walkway; an old lady wearing a tall red hat furiously sweeping a tiny landing; dangling pieces of metal ringing against one another in the same wind; and a solitary banner fixed to an empty piece of the tree, covered with words worn away by rain and sunlight, rendered too faint to read.

Perched on railing was one tall golden bird, and seeing the boy pass, the bird tucked and fell, narrow as a knife until it was close, and then the wings spread, cupping the air as the creature gracefully turned a half-circle, letting its curiosity gnaw at the helpless boy.

Diamond looked at the bird’s black eyes.

“Careful,” said the bird.

Except the bird said nothing. He thought it had, except it was gone suddenly and the voice remained.

“Diamond,” she said.

He turned his head, and his body flipped again.

“Keep flat,” Elata shouted. “Use your arms, your legs. Steer yourself, Diamond. And watch below for a landing place.”

Head down, she was closing fast and screaming to be heard. Diamond foolishly looked up and again started to spin, and she yelled, “No, stop, no,” and he got control of himself as she reached him.

One moment, she was vertical, arms flush to her sides. Then just before streaking into the lead, she flattened out and spread her arms and legs, pulling up, and suddenly both of them were motionless. Marduk was rising fast beside them. She coughed and then spoke. As much to herself as to Diamond, she said, “We’re going to be all right.”

He tried to talk but couldn’t.

“But we’re little enough to fall slow.” Moving one arm, she pulled closer. “With dropsuits, this is easy.”

“With what?” he muttered.

“I’m watching for a place,” she said.

“What place?

“To land,” she said.

He looked down too.

Her voice was inside one of his ears. “The public landing. See it?”

The morning mists were retreating, pulling down the tree trunk and exposing what looked like a long gray belt. From high above, there wasn’t any target. If that was the landing, it seemed very narrow. But distances kept shrinking and everything far away became larger and more important, and the mists continued to drop, revealing more portions of a trunk that might never end.

“Be careful,” she kept telling him.

He made agreeable sounds.

“At the last moment,” she said, “put your feet down and roll forward. And leave your legs bent when you hit.”

He didn’t say anything.

A giant leatherwing slid past them, a high soft voice washing over them.

“Relax,” Elata said.

And Diamond became more nervous, more self-conscious.

“I’ve fallen this far before,” she insisted.

Their target had grown wide and complicated. The flat gray face was littered with objects that didn’t move and objects that did. Diamond tried to gauge speed and direction. Then Elata said something else, and he couldn’t understand.

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t hit those people,” she said. “Don’t hurt anybody.”

The moving objects were people.

“Are you ready, Diamond?”

Cupping his hands, he attempted to steer himself.

Then she grabbed one of his hands. “I see where. Relax, relax. And when I tuck, you tuck. Okay?”

But he pulled his hand away.

Elata grabbed him again.

Diamond didn’t push hard, but suddenly there was air between them. They were pulling apart as he looked at her scared face and the long black hair blowing up, and she curled her fingers, as if clinging to the wind. Then another figure dropped down, flattening and hovering just overhead. Diamond assumed it was the golden bird, but then that bird shouted, “You’re too close. Too close to the tree.”

Seldom had caught them.

“Come back here,” Elata begged.

But Diamond wasn’t afraid. He didn’t want to drop on top of anyone, and once he saw the answer, he felt better. There were a lot of good reasons to be scared, but not about the landing.

Arching his back, Diamond sent himself plunging forward. Marduk was a great brown wall, and there was nothing else in the world. Little pockets in the bark were full of epiphytes and angry birds, and the wind seemed louder, and he shut his eyes out of reflex, shut them tight.

The massive tree felt nothing when that tiny boy struck first with his face and then with his crumbling body.

Tumbling was followed by stillness and darkness. Then a voice found him. “Oh, gracious,” a woman said. “My gracious, I can’t look.”

Someone else said, “What a waste.”

Other voices buzzed in the distance.

Then an angry man said, “You shouldn’t have done that. What were you doing, you idiot?”

“Are you all right?” a woman asked.

Diamond tried to answer, but his jaw was broken.

“You’re hurt,” the sorrowful woman said.

“I’m fine,” Elata said. “Just sore.”

The angry man said, “You’re a very thoughtless girl.”

Elata said, “My friend fell. I had to help him.”

“And your friend is a fool,” the man continued. “That was the worst fall that I have ever, ever seen.”

“He’s your friend?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t look at the poor boy. Put your eyes somewhere else.”

People were moving closer and moving away, and then Elata whispered, “How are you, Diamond?”

Diamond tried to answer, but his mouth wasn’t working.

Seldom came close. “I shouldn’t have jumped,” he said.

“It’s against the law,” the angry man agreed.

“Look at him,” said Seldom. Then he was close, quietly asking an ear, “Are you alive, Diamond?”

Diamond tried to move an arm, but the bone was fractured.

Somebody touched him.

Several voices were talking about the police.

The sorrowful woman said, “Oh please, cover him up.”

“Stupid kids,” the angry man kept saying.

Elata said, “Thank you.” Something slick and cool was thrown over Diamond. A darker blackness was pulled across him.

Elata touched him and pulled her hand away.

“What?” asked Seldom.

“Feel this,” she said.

“No.”

“Touch him here.”

“I don’t want to touch him.”

Someone put a long hand on his shoulder and left it there, and Elata said, “Look,” and then a moment later, “Are you watching?”

“Yes,” Seldom whispered.

Once more, she said, “Touch him.”

Another hand fell on his shoulder.

Seldom said, “He’s hot.”

“Like fire,” she agreed.

Both of their hands pulled away.

Again, she said, “Look.”

“His face . . . ”

“Do you see that?”

There was a long pause. Then with a soft, impressed voice, Seldom said, “This is amazing.”

Diamond didn’t feel feverish, but the wood beneath him was impossibly cold. His best arm moved his best hand and he touched himself, sticky fingers brushing against the gore that had been his face. There was no perceptible heat. His entire body was cooking itself to remake itself. Shredded flesh remembered its shape and found the most elegant route to return that earlier state. A fractured eye socket was rewoven and hardened in the space of thirty quick breaths. Then light returned to the world, sudden and too brilliant to endure. He tried to close his eyes, but the impact had ripped away one of his eyelids. Using the good arm, he covered the exposed eye. “Bright,” he said with a mouth that felt borrowed.