"Where are you from?" he said.

"The other side," Phoebe said, the correct vocabulary, momentarily deserting her.

"You mean the Cosm?" "That's right."

The man shook his head, and his decorations danced. "Oh," he sighed, "I hope that's the truth."

"You think I'd dress this way if I was a local?" Phoebe said.

"No, I don't suppose you would," the man replied. "I'm Hoppo Musnakaff. And you?" "Phoebe Cobb."

Musnakaff had unbuttoned his coat, and now shrugged it off. "We're well met, Phoebe Cobb," he said. "Here, put this on." He tossed the coat to Phoebe. "And let me escort you back to Liverpool."

"Liverpool?" That sounded like a mundane destination after such a journey.

"It's a glorious city," Musnakaff said, pointing towards the lights along the shore. "You'll see."

Phoebe put on his coat. It was warm, and smelled of a sweet perfume tinged with oranges. She plunged her hands into the deep, fur-lined pockets.

"You'll soon warm up," Musnakaff said. "I'll attend to those wounds of yours while we go. I want you to be presentable for the Mistress."

"The Mistress?"

"My@mployer," he replied. "She sent me along here to see what Zury was up to, but I think she'd be happier if I forsook the spying, and brought you home instead. She'll be eager to hear what you have to tell her."

"About what?"

"About the Cosm, of course." Musnakaff replied. "Now will you let me give you a hand?"

384 Clivc Barkcr

"Please."

He came to her (the perfume on the coat was his, she iscovered: He reeked of it) and putting his arm through hers escorted her over the slithery rocks.

"That's our transport," he said. There was a manycolored horse, as bright as a peacock's tail, a little way ahead of them, grazing on the coarse grass that spurted between the slabs of what had once been a fine road.

"King Texas had this highway laid, when he was wanting to impress the Mistress. Of course it's gone to ruin since."

"Who's King Texas?"

"He's the rock," Musnakaff replied, slamming his foot down. "Crazy now, since she left him. He loved her beyond love, you see; rock can do that." "You know I don't have a clue what you're talking about, don't you?" Phoebe said.

"Let's get you up on the nag, eh?" Musnakaff said. "That's it. Right foot in the stirrup. And up! Good! Good!" He flipped the reins over the horse's head, so as to lead it. "Are you secure?" he asked.

"I think so."

"Take hold of her mane. Go on, she's not going to complain." Phoebe did as she was instructed. "Now," said Musnakaff, gently coaxing the animal into a walk. "Let me tell you about the Mistress and King Texas, so you'll understand her insanities better when you meet her face to face."

It was the sound of panicked shouts that roused Joe from his stupor. He lifted his head up off the fine red sand of Mem-6 b'Kether Sabbat's shore and turned it back towards the sea that had delivered him here. Two or three hundred yards from the beach was the good ship Fanacapan, loaded down with passengers. they squatted on the wheelhouse roof; they clung to the mast and ladders; one even hung on the anchor. But their weight and agitation was proving too much for the vessel. Even as Joe watched, The Fanacapan tipped over sideways, pitching two dozen of its passengers into the water, where their shouts were redoubled.

Joe got to his feet, watching the disaster unfold with sickened fascination. The people in the water were now scrabbling to climb back on the boat, their efforts assisted by some of their fellow passengers, and violently opposed by others. Whatever the intention, the effect was the same. The Fanacapan tipped over completely, clearing decks, wheelhouse, mast, and ladders in two seconds, and as it did so its timbers cracked and with startling suddenness it proceeded to sink.

It was a pitiful sight. Small though the vessel was, its descent threw the dream-sea into a fair frenzy. The waters churned and spurned, seeming to seize many of the people in the water and pluck them down. they went shrieking and cursing, as though to their deaths, though Joe supposed it could not be by drowning. After all, he'd lingered under water for several minutes with Phoebe, and had not lacked for air. Perhaps these panicky souls would discover the same; but he suspected not. Something about the way the waters circled these flailing souls made him think there was sentience there; that the dream-sea would be as cruel to these failed voyagers as it had been kind to him.

He turned his back on the sight, and scanned the shore. It was far from deserted. There were people along the beach in both directions as far as his eyes could see, which was a long way. The gloomy sky had given way to an exquisite luminescence, the source of which was not a heavenly body but objects themselves. Everything was shining with its own light, some of it steady, some of it glittering, but glorious in its sum.

Joe looked down at his body, at his blood-stained clothes and his wounded flesh, and saw that even he was shining here, as though every pore and crease and thread wanted to make itself known. The sight exhilarated him. He was not unmiraculous in this miraculous place, but came with glories of his own.

He started up the shore now, towards the groves of titanic trees that lined it, so vast he could see nothing of the island itself. This was, he was certain, Mem-6 b'Kether Sabbat. On the voyage Noah had rhapsodized about the color of its sand. There was no shore so red, he'd boasted; nor any other island so fine. Beyond that Joe had little sense of what to expect. The Ephemeris was not one island but many, he knew that, an archipelago formed-so tradition had itaround pieces of debris from the Cosm. Some of that debris was alive: the tissue of trespassers, which the dream-sea had transfon-ned and fantasticated, using the minds of those men and women as inspiration. Most of the debris was dead stuff, however, fragments of the Heiter Incendo that had slipped through a crack. With time, and with Quiddity's attentions, these became the lesser, plainer islands in the group. Though they numbered in their thousands, Noah had said, most of them were deserted.

So, Joe had asked, what man or woman had founded the island that Noah had constantly referred to as "my country." Noah had replied that he didn't know, but there were those in the great city of b'Kether Sabbat who knew, and perhaps Joe would find favor with one of them, and be initiated into that mystery.

A frail hope, even then. Now it was not worth entertaining. The people on the shore were plainly refugees, most likely from that very city. If b'Kether Sabbat still stood, it probably stood deserted.

Joe intended to see it nevertheless. He'd come so far, and at such cost. Not to see the city which had been, according to Noah, the jewel of the Ephemeris-its Rome, its New York, its Babylon-would be defeatist. And even if he didn't make it, even if there was only a wasteland on the other side of the trees, anything was better than lingering here, among these desolate people.

So thinking, he started up the shore, the dream of power with which he had begun this journey entirely dashed, and in its place the simple desire to see what could be seen and know what could be known before he lost the power to do either.

Six Though Liverpool had seemed charmiess to Phoebe when she and Musnakaff first entered-its public buildings austere and grimy, its private houses either tenement rows or gloomy mansions-they soon encountered signs of an inner life that quite endeared the place to her. There were noisy parties going on in a number of residences they passed by, with parties spilling out onto the sidewalk. There were huge bonfires blazing in several of the squares, surrounded by dancing people. There was even a parade of children, singing as they went.