I hurried, sending waves over both banks. As I reached her, I dwindled, lest my approach raise alarms.

I barely rose above her stacks when a lantern flared on her deck and a trio of halfdead loosed glittering crossbow bolts at my face.

I chuckled and brushed them aside.

“Good evening,” I said. My voice echoed across the Brown, and I made it softer. “Evis. Come forth.”

I was much diminished, but even so I had to hurry to keep up with the Regency. It amused me to walk atop the frothing waters whipped up by the craft’s steadily churning paddle wheels.

The trio of halfdead kept their crossbows upon me. Ogres gathered in the shadows, readying their massive steel-tipped spears for throws I could easily swat aside.

Evis appeared, at a run, a strange thing of brass and steel gripped tightly in both his hands.

“I trust I have not disturbed you,” I said.

He regarded me with his dead white eyes for a moment. Then he relaxed, let the object in his hands drop to his waist, and ordered his men back to their posts.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until we returned.”

“Come out, Miss,” I said. “I can see you.”

Gertriss appeared. She carried a long, plain blade around which a complex spell swirled and spun. I blew it out as one blows out a candle.

“No need for such things.” I felt myself smile. “The Corpsemaster sends her regards.”

Evis made a small bow. “I hope she is pleased with our progress.”

“She will be.” I hefted the sack I carried. “Miss, Mama has solved our little problem, in her usual straightforward fashion.”

She saw the bloodstain that dripped at the bottom.

“Is Mama…?”

“She is fine.” I let my vision wander, sending it northward, cautiously seeking out the location of our foes.

“They too are ahead of schedule. I fear you will find them somewhat closer to the bluffs than you anticipated.”

Evis shrugged. “We are making as much speed as we can.”

“It won’t be enough. But have no fear. Markhat is here.”

“Is he?”

I laughed. “You’re as bad as Mama Hog. Will you try to pour special tea down my throat, as well?”

“If it will help.”

“You dare much.”

Evis shrugged again. “I’m taking an experimental steamship into battle while hauling a couple of barges filled with unstable explosives. Having a smart mouth seems to run a distant third in terms of risk. And whatever else you may be, you’re still Markhat. Still my friend.”

“And mine.” Gertriss made herself meet my eyes. “Boss.”

I motioned upriver.

“How long will you need, to drill your shafts, and ready your explosives?

“A day. Even with ogres, even with…special drills.”

“That will never do. I shall prepare these shafts for you instead. How deep and how wide?”

Evis frowned. “Might the sorcerers among them not see you, if you venture so close?”

“How deep?” I said again. I towered up above the Regency. “How wide?”

Water broke in sudden swells around my knees.

“Twenty feet deep,” shouted Evis. “As wide as a beer-barrel. That’s what we’re using. We’ll need four columns of holes all the way up the bluffs, from the water line to the top. At least ten rows per column. That’s eighty shafts in all.”

“Eighty shafts. Twenty feet deep,” I said. “Wide as beer barrel. Maps, and maps and a dead man’s head.”

“What?”

I laughed, and the Regency dropped down below me, and as I walked away the Brown dwindled until it was only a ribbon of moonlit silver winding through a forest of black.

I sang my new song all the way to the bluffs.

I awoke to the feel of the sun on my face and the barking of an angry squirrel.

I tried to move, had an unsettling moment of panicked disorientation while I tried to work out the location and length of my limbs. After some difficulty, I regained the use of my eyes, and opened them, and managed at last to cuss.

I was seated atop my fine black Avalante carriage, back-to-back with my driver of the previous day, who still snored. My hat was beside me, being dragged away by an enterprising park squirrel, who I suppose fancied the felt as a first-rate winter bed for himself.

I shooed him away with a wave of my hand.

The carriage was parked atop a small, oak-covered hill. A warm morning breeze stirred the boughs. Dappled patches of sunlight raced.

Midmorning, at least.

And not a road in sight.

Around us, people laughed as they passed. Kids dressed in fancy play clothes rolled steel hoops past us, hooting and shrieking. Nannies in long skirts whispered behind their hands.

Our ponies munched grass contentedly, out of the shade and in the bright sun.

“Good morning, gents,” called out Mr. Varney, the Park’s ever-present seller of birdseed. “Had ourselves quite a night, did we now?”

I shook the driver awake. His startled eyes took in the scene with a touch of rising panic.

“Whoa, kid. Settle down. It’s okay. Just round up the ponies, and let’s get out of here before the Watch comes around. I’ll explain it all later.”

“I didn’t have a sip, I swear.”

“I know you didn’t. Round up the ponies.”

He jumped down.

I rose and stretched. Even that was taxing. I hurt, all over, as if I’d spent the night in that least rewarding of pursuits, hard physical labor.

I remembered, though. Remembered bits and pieces of another walk with the huldra. Remembered being drunk with a power that wasn’t mine, wasn’t ever meant to be mine.

I rubbed my eyes and pushed the thought of such things away. After a moment of hearing my own voice roar like nearby thunder, I came out of the shade and helped the driver round up the ponies while rich kids taunted and jeered.

We made it back to Avalante just in time for lunch.

I surprised myself by being hungry. After I had a word with Jerle, to let him know the driver hadn’t been drinking on the job, I helped myself to a plate of Avalante’s good roast beef and fresh-baked bread.

The man who walked with the huldra would have laughed at the thought of mere food.

I had two plates. And a beer. And another one to keep the first company.

My inclination was to have a dozen more. Anything to drown the memories that were drifting past. I saw treetops from above. Clouds from within. I heard murmurs of words that, if spoken, could bring forth terrors from shadows that moved along strange paths, always just out of sight.

But I knew I could make the Brown into beer and drink every drop and I’d still remember.

So I thanked the cook and picked up my hat and I headed for the door. They offered me another carriage, but I told them I wanted to walk.

I needed to feel the sun on my face. I needed to feel Rannit’s cobbles under my soles. I needed to walk until I was good and tired and keep walking after that, because I didn’t know how I’d face the night and the newly risen ghost of the huldra.

The Corpsemaster had promised it would sleep, with the sunrise. And maybe that was true.

Maybe what I was half-seeing and half-hearing, even in the daylight, wasn’t coming from the huldra.

Maybe it was coming from me. Maybe the darkness had taken root.

I thought of corpseflowers as I stepped into the bright warm sun.

They only bloom at night. Pale, limp blooms that smell of death.

I pushed back my hat and let the sun beam down on my face, and I walked away as fast as I could.

I don’t remember punching the first bridge clown. I’m told I laid his ass out, and his fellows let me pass unmolested after that.

I wound up downtown with blisters on both heels. The height of the sun and the crowds at the eateries signaled late afternoon. I waited until a mob of office functionaries flooded the street around Lethway’s office to make a pass by his building.