We wove in and around groups of people and creatures who greeted us warmly when we passed, like old friends or comrades-in-arms. They could fly and swim and run impossibly fast. They carried weapons of cunning design that were capable of every wound; of splitting hearts behind any steel.

There was such a good, united feeling everywhere; no buzz of fear or hesitation, and much laughter. I must admit though that to hear the laughter of some of our stranger . . . allies was, well, disconcerting.

«Cullen! Hey, Cullen, over here!» I looked hard into the dark and thought I saw Weber Gregston waving to me from a campfire, but I couldn't be certain. I wranted to stop and find out for sure, but Pepsi had my hand and he was in a hurry.

There were also all kinds of music there, which was queer and lovely and often spellbinding. Time after time I wanted to stop and listen to this voice or these wings rubbed together. There was an instrument that looked like a microscope which sounded like nothing I had ever heard before anywhere.

But Pepsi wouldn't stop. He jerked me along and seemed impatient when I asked him again and again what that last song was, or the name of the being that was playing it.

Mr. Tracy had moved very little since the day we'd arrived on the meadow. They had erected a tent the size of a circus marquee for us and he spent most of his time inside either resting or, when he was up to it, conferring with leaders of the different groups which had gathered.

When we got to the tent, an old friend of ours was there.

«Goosemasks and coffee, Venice Dancers.»

«Sizzling Thumb!»

Beaming, the old man turned and greeted us by waving the Bone-walking stick we had given to him. And because of the recent magic I'd been given, I could finally understand what he was talking about.

«Did your mother see it?»

«Yes, everything.»

I looked at the boy. «Pepsi, did you know about the Cafй before?»

«Yes Mom, but I had never seen it. I'd only heard about it from Mr. Tracy.»

«Did you recognize anything, Cullen?»

«No. Should I have?»

The three of them passed looks back and forth that said I damned well should have recognized everything.

I got mad. «All right! I give up. What did I miss this time?»

Using the walking stick to steady himself, Sizzling Thumb got up slowly. All humor and goodwill was gone from his face as he came up close and looked hard at me.

«How could you forget that? That's where the others _died_, Cullen! On that hill, when you were all so close.» He wanted to say more, but anger or self-control kept him from continuing.

Taking him by the arm, Pepsi led him out of the tent. It was the last time I ever saw Sizzling Thumb and I have no idea of what happened to him. When he was gone, Mr. Tracy told me that Sizzling Thumb's only children, Umleitung and Tookat, had been killed in that battle. The day I used the fourth Bone to save myself! How well I understood his rage then. Long ago but not far away I had caused the deaths of his family, and now I didn't even remember that happening.

«Mr. Tracy, if I don't remember anything, what good will I be when the fighting starts?»

He thought for a moment and was about to answer when Pepsi came running into the tent.

«Mom, come outside!» His voice and expression said to drop everything and come running.

One of the few dreams I distinctly remember having as a child was this, and I had it many times. I am sitting outside somewhere by myself. It is a nice day and I'm doing something unimportant – maybe a doll is on my lap and I'm talking to it. For no reason, I feel compelled to look up and there, owning the entire sky – the whole roof and corners of the world above – is a face. I'm scared, but children have the ability to handle anything because their world has no limitations: everything is possible when you're eight. So this face across the world is incredible, but not out of the question. Is it God? I don't know, because I don't remember what the face looked like; just that it was everywhere above me. It is the face of a man; he never speaks but he is looking only at me. The air smells peppery and rich and anything might happen. I wake up.

Dashing out of the tent behind Pepsi, I smelled it first – peppery and rich. Night had been swept aside by a brilliantly lit sky which was once again taken up by one horizon-to-horizon face. There were so many hundreds of our friends down in that meadow but even combined, they were as microbes in comparison with that omnipotent face. When he spoke, his voice was soft and lovely.

«Remember me?»

6

Dear Mrs. James,

You will be delighted to know that this is my last letter to you. I am having to resort to paying a certain person to take it out of the hospital and mail it to you. I assume just this once you will have the «kindness» not to report it to the good Doctor Lavery.

He has explained your decision to me and I understand, but it makes me unhappy. No, to be more precise, it makes me feel horrible, if you care to know the truth. I thought you were the only person left in the world I could rely on. I guess we all make mistakes, don't we? I am sorry, I feel horrible, but that's all right. I will respect your decision and honor it. That is what a shogun would do. Doctor Lavery suggested I begin a diary to compensate for the loss of my correspondence with you, and I believe that I will do that. I find writing helps me to express my thoughts more clearly, whether _you_ have been aware of that or not. The only problem with a journal is that you're the only one to read it, so you can't get any feedback because you usually agree with everything you said. Ha Ha! Good-bye. Mrs. James. Thank you for almost something, if you understand what I mean. Yes, you do know what I mean, don't you?

Very sincerely yours,

Alvin Williams

«Oh, light your cigarette with it, Cullen. Alvin Williams is a nut.»

«Do you think I should call his doctor and tell him about it?»

«I guess you could if you want to, but I wouldn't bother. Alvin is mad at you, that's all. But mad people _get_ mad. I say screw him.»

«Eliot, you're oversimplifying by a few miles.»

«Then call the doctor if you want. I don't know what else to tell you.» He smoothed the hair over Mae's head and shifted her from one arm to the other. «Enough of loony Alvin. Are you going to tell me the new Rondua dream or not?»

«Well, this is all part of it. I'm kind of scared to tell it to you.»

«Why?»

«Because the face across the sky was Alvin Williams' face. _He's_ Jack Chili.»

«Hah, that's perfect! You're like a casebook history, Cullen. You keep thinking that dreaming about Rondua is bad for you, but you're so wrong. Some little catharsis faucet inside you turns on each night and you get to wash away every bit of guilt and fear and . . . everything bad in your life from Day One until now. By the time you get through this whole thing, you'll probably be able to _ascend_, for God's sake!» He tsked his lips at me and shook his head. «It's disgusting, because it's all so neat and completely logical. What's the worst thing in the world you can imagine happening to you? Having to face Alvin Williams again. Now, you go to sleep at night and who is it you're terrified of facing in your dreams? Alvin Williams, multiplied a thousand times. And who are you going to _have_ to face? Alvin Williams. Cullen, you would have bored Sigmund Freud in ten seconds. _The White Hotel_ you're not. And anyway, what happened after Alvin Chili appeared in the sky?»

The name Alvin Chili made me laugh and that cleared the air.

«Alvin Chili told us we had to come alone to him. Just the two of us. He said it was either that or else he would kill everyone in the meadow right then.»