Diamond was crying, and he was giggling.

“Then you’ll fly us to our front door,” Father ordered. “I think this boy deserves that much consideration. Don’t you?”

The sun and the day weren’t brilliant anymore. Seldom was standing in the passenger cabin, standing beside the windows, pressing old binoculars against his bare eyes. Spellbound, he caught glimpses of Diamond falling free from the Ruler and the corona dancing beside his friend for what seemed like ages, and then Merit caught his son and where was the corona now? Gone and the parachute had opened, Merit and Diamond falling in a looping course while the Happenstance slowed its engines, wishing them to a safe landing.

Nobody spoke. Elata and Master Nissim and Seldom watched the parachute until it vanish somewhere above the ship. Haddi was standing above, in the crowded bridge. Then the engines turned them back into the wind and slowed. The old woman screamed from the bridge, which had to be bad news; Seldom had never felt so scared. And the pilot sounded scared when he started to shout, except the words were good.

“They’re down, we got them,” he screamed. “Damn we got them.”

Elata was beside Seldom, crying and jumping. And the Master was behind them, quietly saying the same word again and again.

“Remarkable,” he said.

But then the parachute was blown off the Happenstance, falling past Seldom’s windows. He was brave enough for one squinting glance, and he saw what he feared, shutting his eyes and pushing the binoculars hard against his sorry stomach. The pilot had warned them how the air was still near the demon floor, how they had to fly low to intercept their people, no room for second chances. And now their friend was going to be a cinder, and Merit was sure to die.

Seldom wasn’t ashamed to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Elata asked.

What was right? Nothing was.

And deciphering the tears, she laughed at him.

Anger made the eyes open. The parachute was a floppy mess, nobody riding it to their doom, and the loud little pilot was climbing stairs somewhere above them, shouting instructions to his people. Then Diamond’s mother came into the cabin, smiling warily. Seldom wiped his face with the sleeve of his school uniform and the Master patted his shoulders.

“Just remarkable,” he said.

In that instant, Seldom went from miserable to joyous. Pushing the binoculars against wet eyes, he watched the Ruler of the Wind continue to break open and fall to pieces. But the little airships that it had carried were free and racing off. Maybe the crew and everybody had been saved. That’s what Seldom wanted, but he didn’t want that very much. He hoped the Ruler would catch fire, which would be spectacular, and that’s exactly what happened next: hydrogen was leaking where the corona skin was ripped open—more hydrogen than any fire retardant could fight—and touched by a spark, the gas exploded. The blaze was blue on the edges and invisible inside its fierce heart, and the nearby canopy began to burn, and the ship’s cabins and fuel tanks and every giant engine too.

Seldom was so thrilled that he felt weak, almost sick. His mind started jumping, as it was known to do, and he suddenly remembered how Nissim had talked about worlds other than this world. The boy hadn’t believed the Master. Of all the things that happened today, that possibility had bothered him more than any. Yet now, wearing this seamless, effortless joy, Seldom could believe impossible ideas. Of course there were worlds past theirs, just as there were other creatures like Diamond, and not only did he embrace what a moment ago seemed ugly and impossible, but Seldom found himself half-fearing, half-wishing that somehow he could visit one of these worlds.

Wouldn’t that be a wonderful journey?

Diamond walked into the little cabin with its lightweight chairs and flexible windows and the big flanking engines, repaired and roaring. Elata gave him a sturdy hug and the Master clasped his hand.

Seldom was standing at the window with binoculars in his hands. “What happened on the Ruler?” he asked.

Diamond didn’t want to talk about the fights.

“I thought I could see you,” Seldom said, waving the binoculars. “You had a sword. Then the glass broke, and out you jumped out.”

“Seldom,” said the Master. “Leave our friend alone, please.”

Diamond wiped at his dirty face.

“Sit,” the Master suggested.

“I’m hungry,” Diamond confessed.

Seldom dropped the binoculars and both children ran off on a food hunt.

Mother was sitting in the middle of the cabin. She looked pale but happy, waving to him. “Here. Please, keep me company.”

He sat, and she held his hands.

The Master sat elsewhere, Father joining him. The two men spoke quietly, every word serious and every gesture careful. They were talking about laws and the codes of the slayer and political matters that shouldn’t matter to normal boys.

Diamond leaned into the old woman, and she leaned into him.

“I’m tired,” she said.

He nodded.

“Are you tired?”

He said, “Maybe.”

“Weak?”

He thought for a moment, one hand grabbing the other wrist. Both were healed, and he said, “I’m back to the same.”

She felt the arm. “You are.”

They sat together for a few recitations, saying nothing.

Elata returned with two ancient meals wrapped in clear rubber, plus a flask of warm water. “This is all, so far. Seldom’s chasing rumors about a lost lunch. But nobody remembered to load food at the reef, what with the engine and the excitement.”

“Thank you,” Mother said, using a smile to coax the girl to leave.

Then to her son, she said, “Eat it all.”

The meals were dry and nearly tasteless, and he wasn’t sure what the food had been when it was fresh. But he was famished, and she watched him for a little while before saying, “Diamond.”

“What?”

“Your name. I want you to know where it came from.”

His mouth stopped chewing, and he looked at her.

She motioned at Father. “He told me you understand, you know where he found you and how he brought you home.”

“Yes,” said the boy.

“Afterwards, I pretended to be pregnant,” she said. “At my age, that seemed unlikely. But we announced that you were coming and I didn’t let myself get seen without wearing a pillow under my shirt. Then we announced that you were born at home and sickly. Maybe we shouldn’t have. It might have been smarter to run off to the wilderness and live like bandits. But your father had his work, and wild country has its dangers, and so we kept up this lie until too many people were asking to see you, wanting to help.

“Friends found the doctor for us, and the doctor convinced himself of your afflictions, at least for a little while. You were one bug away from death, and in one fashion or another, we believed our own lie.”

Diamond listened intently.

“I used to watch you lying inside your crib,” Mother said. “Your father was working, and I didn’t have anything half as important as studying you. Such a little baby, you were. So sweet you seemed, but odd. Sometimes you’d gaze at me and smile and make me weep, I was so happy. But there were spells when I would do everything I could to win a grin, and you did nothing but stare at the darkest piece of your room, watching nothing. As if you were hypnotized by the darkness. And then sometimes, without warning, you laughed for no reason, and you smiled like you smiled at me, only better. A radiant smile, and that’s when I realized you were remembering your real mother. Whoever she was, whatever she was. Ages spent in the belly of a corona, yet you still hadn’t forgotten this other life that I can’t begin to imagine.”

“I don’t remember anybody else,” said Diamond. But the words felt forced, and when he fell silent, he could almost see another face.