"There," he said, when he reached the bottom of the e. "Now you see me."

"I'm-glad to know you," Erwin said. "I was afraid I was going to be alone."

"What's your name?"

"Erwin Toothaker. And yours?"

The wounded beast inclined his head. "I'm pleased to meet you," he said. "My name is Coker Ammiano."

It took Musnakaff an hour or more to prepare his mistress for the journey out into the chilly streets of Liverpool, during which time Phoebe was given permission to wander the house. It was a melancholy trek. The rooms were for the most part beautifully appointed, the beds vast and inviting, the bathrooms positively decadent, but there was dust on every surface and gull-shit on every window; a sense everywhere of the best times having passed by. There was no sign of the individuals who had lived in this house; who had admired the view from its windows or laid their heads on its pillows. Had they dreamed? Phoebe wondered. And if so, of what? Of the world that she'd come from? It amused her at first, thinking that the people who'd lived in these fine rooms might have yearned for the Cosm the way she'd yearned for some unreachable dream-place. But the more she pondered it, the more melancholy it seemed, that people on both sides of the divide lived in discontent, wishing for the other's lot. If she survived this journey, she thought, she would return to Everville determined to live every moment as it came, and not waste time pining for some sweet faraway.

When she emerged from one of the bedrooms she looked into a mirror in the hallway, and told herself aloud, "Enjoy it while you can. Every minute of it."

"What did you say?" Musnakaff asked her, stepping from a doorway along the passage.

She was embarrassed to have been caught this way.

"How long have you been watching me?" she wanted to know.

"Only a moment or two," he replied. "You make a fine sight, Phoebe Cobb. There's music in you."

"I'm tone-deaf," she told him, a little sharply.

"There's music and music," Musnakaff replied. "Your spirit sings even if your throat doesn't. I hear drums when I look at your breasts, and a choir when I think of you naked." She gave him the forbidding stare that had terrorized a thousand tardy patients, but it didn't work. He simply grinned at her, his decorated cheeks twinkling. "Don't he offended," he said. "This house had always been a place where people talk plainly about such matters.

"Then I'll talk plainly too," Phoebe said. "I don't appreciate you ogling me when my back's turned, and drums or no drums I'll thank you not to look at my breasts."

"Do you not like your breasts?"

"That's between me and my breasts," Phoebe said, realizing as the words came out how absurd they sounded.

Musnakaff erupted with laughter, and try as she might Phoebe could not help but let go a tiny smile herself, the sight of which only made Musnakaff gush further.

"I'll say it again," Musnakaff told her. "This house has seen many fine women, but you are among the finest, the very finest."

It was so nicely said, she could not help but be flattered. "Well....

she said. "Thank you."

"The pleasure's mine," Musnakaff said. "Now, if you're ready, the Mistress's bearers have arrived. I believe it's time we all went down to the water."

It took less than an hour of traveling on the road to b'Kether Sabbat for Joe to lose most of his sympathy for the refugees flooding in the opposite direction. He witnessed countless acts of casual cruelty in that time. Children more heavily burdened than their parents, whipped along', animals abused and beaten into a frenzy; rich men and women, hoisted up onto the backs of imperi ous cousins to the camel, cutting a bloody swathe through those careless enough to stumble into their path. In short, all that he might have expected to see in the Cosm.

When these sorry spectacles became too much, however, he simply set his sights on the city itself, and his weary limbs found fresh strength. The people who had lived in b'Kether Sabbat were as petty and barbarous as die citizens of any terrestrial city, but the edifice they were vacating was without parallel.

As for the wave of the lad, it seethed and divided, but did not advance. It simply hovered over the city like a vast' beast, mesmerized by something in its shadow. He only hoped that he could reach the city, and walk its streets and climb its blazing towers before the lad's interest staled, and it delivered the coup de grfice.

As he came within a quarter mile of the nearest ladders-the city looming like an inverted mountain before him-he heard a shrill shout above the din and an ashen creature dug its way through the throng to block his way.

"Affique!" he said. "Afrique! You're alive!" The creature laid his webbed hands upon Joe's chest. "You don't know me, do you?"

"No. Should I?"

"I was on the ship with you," the man said, and now Joe recognized him. He was one of the slaves Noah had seconded to crew The Fanacapan: a broad, burly fellow with sluggish, froglike features. His manner, now that he was once again his own man, belied his appearance. He had a quick, lively quality about him. "My name's Wexel Fee, Afrique," he said, covered in smiles. "And I am very glad to see you. Very, very glad." "I don't know why," Joe said. "You were treated like shit." "I heard what you said to Noah Su@a Sunimamentis. You tried to do something for us. It's not your fault you failed." I'll in afraid it is," Joe said guiltily. "Where are the others?" "Dead." "All of them?"

"All."

"I'm sorry." "Don't be. they weren't friends of mine."

"Why did you not die and they did? Noah said when he was done with you-"

"I know what he said. I heard that too. I have very sharp ears. I also have a strong will. I was not ready to die."

"So you heard but you couldn't act for yourself9"

"Exactly so. I'd lost my will to his suit." "So you were hurting."

"Oh yes. I was hurting." Fee lifted his right hand into view. Two of his six fingers were reduced to gummy stumps. "And I would have gladly killed the man, when I woke."

"Why didn't you?" "He is mighty, Afrique, now he's back in b'Kether Sabbat. While I am very far from home." He looked past Joe now, towards the sea.

"There are no ships, Wexel."

"What about The Fanacapan?"

"I saw it sink." He took the news philosophically. "Ah. So perhaps I did not outlive the others so that I could go home." He made the first smile Joe had seen on this woeful road. "Perhaps I tried to meet you again, Afrique."

"My name's Joe."

"I heard my enemy call you by that name," Fee replied. "Therefore I cannot use it. This is the etiquette in my country. So I will call you Afrique." Joe didn't much like the dubbing, but this was no time to offend the man. "And I will come with you, back to b'Kether Sabbat. Yes?"

"I'd certainly like your company," Joe said. "But why would you want to come?"

"Because there are no ships. Because I found you in a crowd of ten thousand souls. And because you may be able to do what I could not."

"Kill Noah."

"From your lips, Afrique. From your lips." caravan that descended the steep hill from the house on Canning Street was nine souls strong. Phoebe and Musnakaff, both on foot, Maeve O'Connell, traveling in an elaborate sedan chair, home by four sizable men, plus an individual leading the way and one tagging along behind, both of them very conspicu ously armed. When Phoebe remarked upon this Musnakaff simply said, "these are dangerous days. Who knows what's loose?" which was not the most reassuring of replies.

"Come walk alongside me," Maeve said as they went. "It's time you kept your side of the bargain. Tell me about the Cosm. No, forget the Cosm. Just tell me about my city." "First," said Phoebe, "I've got a question."