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don't leave me to my Father。 Judith！〃 。
He drew the knives out of his belt and came after her； offering the handle of one as he came； like a merchant selling suicide。 She swiped at the proffered blade； and it went from his grasp。 As it flew she turned； hoping to the Goddess that Clem had left the door open。 He had； and lit every can…die he could find； to judge by the spill of light onto the step。 She picked up her pace； hearing Sartori's voice behind her as she went。 He only spoke her name； but the threat in it was unmistakable。 She didn't reply…her flight from him was answer enough…but when she reached the pavement she glanced back at him。 He was picking up the dropped knife； and rising。
Again he said； 〃Judith…〃
But this time it was a warning of a different order。 Off to her left a motion drew her glance。 One of the gek…a…gek； the sharpener； was ing at her； its flat head now wide as a manhole and toothed to its gut。
Sartori yelled an order； but the thing was rogue and came on at her unchecked。 She raced for the step； and as she did so heard a whoop from the door； Monday was there； naked but for his grimy underwear： in his hand； a homemade bludgeon； which he swung around his head like a man possessed。 She ducked beneath its sweep as she made the step。 Clem was behind him； ready to haul her in； but she turned to call Monday to retreat； in time to see the gek…a…gek mounting the step in pursuit。 Her defender didn't retreat； but brought the weapon down in a whistling arc； striking the gek…a…gek's gaping head。 The bludgeon shattered； but the blow sheared off one of the beast's bulbous eyes。 Though wounded； its mass was still sufficient to carry it forward； and one of its freshly honed claws found Monday's back as he turned to dodge it。 The boy shrieked and might have fallen beneath the Oviate's attack if Clem hadn't grabbed his arms and all but thrown him into the house。
The half…blinded beast was a yard from Jude's feet； its head thrown back as it raged in pain。 But it wasn't the maw she was watching。 It was Sartori。 He was once again walking towards the house； a knife in each hand； and a gek…a…gek at each heel。 His eyes were fixed on her。 They shone with sorrow。
〃In！〃 Clem yelled； and she relinquished both sight and step to pitch herself back over the threshold。
The one…eyed Oviate came after her as she did so； but Clem was fast。 The heavy door swung closed； and Hoi…Pot…loi was there to fling the bolts across； leaving the wounded beast and its still more wounded master out in the darkness。
On the floor above； Gentle heard nothing of this。 He had finally passed； via the circle's good offices； through the In Ovo and into what Pie had called the Mansion of the Nexus； the Ana； where he and the other Maestros would undertake the penultimate phase of the working。 The conventional life of the senses was redundant in this place； and for Gentle being here was like a dream in which he was knowing but unknown； potent but unfixed。 He didn't mourn the body he'd left in Gamut Street。 If he never inhabited it again it would be no loss； he thought。 He had a far finer condition here； like a figure in some exquisite equation that could neither be removed nor reduced but was all it had to be…no more； no less…to change the sum of things。
He knew the others were with him； and though he had no sight to see them with； his mind's eye had never owned so vast a palette as it did now； nor had his invention ever been finer。 There was no need for cribbing and forgery here。 He had earned with his metempsychosis access to a visionary grasp he'd never dreamt of possessing； and his imagination brimmed with correlatives for the pany he kept。
He invented Tick Raw dressed in the motley he'd first seen the man wear in Vanaeph； but fashioned now from the wonders of the Fourth。 A suit of mountains； dusted in Jokalaylaurian snow； a shirt of Patashoqua； belted by its walls； a shimmering halo of green and gold； casting its light down on a face as busy as the highway。 Scopique was a less gaudy sight； the gray dust of the Kwem billowing around him like a shredded coat； its particles etching the glories of the Third in its folds。 The Cradle was there。 So were the temples at L'Himby； so was the Lenten Way。 There was even a glimpse of the railroad track； the smoke of its lootive rising to add its murk to the storm。：
Then Athanasius； dressed in a clout of dirty cloth and carrying in his bleeding hands a perfect representation of Yzordderrex； from the causeway to the desert； from the harbor to Ipse； The ocean ran from his wounded flank； and the crown of thorns he wore was blossoming； throwing petals of rainbow light down upon all he bore。 Finally； there was Chicka Jackeen； here in lightning； the way he'd looked two hundred midsummers before。 He'd been weeping； then； and waxen with fright。 But now the storm was his possession； not his scourge； and the arcs of fire that leapt between his fingers were a geometry； austere and beautiful； that solved the mystery of the First； and in unveiling it made perfection the new enigma。
Inventing them this way； Gentle wondered if they in turn were inventing him； or whether his painter's hunger to see was an irrelevancy to them； and what they imagined； knowing he was with them； was a body subtler than any sight。 It would be better that way； he supposed； and with time he'd learn to rise out of his literalisms； just as he'd shrug off the self that wore his name。 He had no attachment to this Gentle left； nor to the tale that hung behind。 It was tragedy； that self； any self。 It was a marriage made with loss； and had he not wanted one last glimpse of Pie 'oh' pah； he might have prayed that his reward for Reconciliation would be this state in perpetuity。
He knew that wasn't plausible； of course。 The Ana's sanctuary existed for only a brief time； and while it did so it had more ecumenical business than nurturing a single soul。 The Maestros had served their purpose in bringing the Dominions into this sacred space； and would soon be redundant。 They would return to their circles； leaving Dominion to meld with Dominion； and in so doing drive the In Ovo back like a malignant sea。 What would happen then was a matter of conjecture。 He doubted there'd be an instant of revelation…all the nations of the Fifth waking to their unfettered state in the same moment。 It would most likely be slow； the work of years。 Rumors at first； that bridges wreathed in fogs could be found by those eager enough to look。 Then the rumors being certainties； and the bridges being causeways； and the fogs great clouds； until； in a generation or two； children were born who knew without being taught that the species had five Dominions to explore and would one day discover its own Godhood in its wanderings。 But the time it took to reach that blessed day was unimportant。 The moment the first bridge； however small； was forged； the Imajica was whole； and at that moment every soul in the Dominion； from cradle to deathbed； would be healed in some tiny part and take their next breath lighter for the fact。
Jude waited in the hall long enough to be sure that Monday wasn't dead； then she headed towards the stairs。 The currents which had induced such disforts w