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t。
〃What are you seeing？〃 she heard Dowd asking her。
〃Me；〃 she said； 〃lying on the floor 。。。 in a circle of sand。。。。〃
〃Are you sure it's you？〃 he said。
She was about to pour scorn on his question； when she realized its import。 Perhaps this wasn't her； but her sister。
〃Is there any way of knowing？〃 she said。
〃You'll soon see；〃 he told her。
So she did。 The curtain of sand began to wave more violently； as if seized by a wind unleashed within the circle。 Particles flew from it； intensifying as they were thrown against the dark air： motes of the purest color rising like new stars； then dropping again； burning in their descent； towards the place where she； the witness； lay。 She was lying on the ground close to her sister； receiving the rain of color like a grateful earth； needing its sustenance if she was to grow and swell and bee fruitful。
〃What am I？〃 she said； following the fall of color to snatch a glimpse of the ground it was falling upon。
The beauty of what she'd seen so far had lulled her into vulnerability。 When she saw her own unfinished body； the shock threw her out of the remembrance like a blow。 Sud…； denly she was teetering on the wall's edge again； with Dowd's hand the only check upon her falling。 Icewater sweat filled her pores。
〃Don't let me go；〃 she said。
〃What are you seeing？〃 he asked her。
〃Is this being born？〃 she sobbed。 〃Oh； Christ； is this being born？〃
〃Go back to the memory；〃 he said。 〃You've begun it； so； finish it！〃 He shook her。 〃Hear me？ Finish it！〃
She saw his face raging before her。 She saw the well； yearning behind。 And in between； in the firelit room awaiting her in her head； she saw a nightmare worse than both： her anatomy； barely made； lying in a circle of perverted enchantments； raw until the distillates of another woman's body put skin on her sinew and color in that skin； put the tint in her eyes and the gloss on her lips； gave her the same breasts； belly； and sex。 This was not birth； it was duplication。 She was a facsimile； a likeness stolen from a slumbering original。
〃I can't bear it；〃 she said。
〃I did warn you； lovey；〃 Dowd replied。 〃It's never easy； reliving the first moments。〃
〃I'm not even real；〃 she said。
〃Let's stay clear of the metaphysics；〃 came the reply。 〃What you are； you are。 You had to know sooner or later。〃
〃I can't bear it。 I can't bear it。〃
〃But you are bearing it；〃 Dowd said。 〃You just have to take it slowly。 Step by step。〃
〃No more。。。。〃
〃Yes；〃 he insisted。 〃A lot more。 That was the worst。 It'll get easier from now on。〃
That was a lie。 When memory took her again； almost without her inviting it； she was raising her arms above her head； letting the colors congeal around her outstretched fingers。 Pretty enough； until she let one arm drop beside her and her new…made nerves felt a presence at her side； sharing the womb。 She turned her head and screamed。 〃What is it？〃 Dowd said。 〃Did the Goddess e？〃 It was no Goddess。 It was another unfinished thing； gaping at her with lidless eyes； putting out its colorless tongue； which was still so rough it could have licked her new skin off her。 She retreated from it； and her fear aroused it； the pale anatomy shaken by silent laughter。 It too had gathered motes of stolen color； she saw； but it had not bathed in them； rather； it had caught them in its hands； postponing the moment it attired itself until it had luxuriated in its flayed nakedness。
Dowd was interrogating her again。 〃Is it the Goddess？〃 he was asking。 〃What are you seeing？ Speak it out； woman！ Speak it…〃
His demand was cut suddenly short。 There was a beat of silence； then a cry of alarm so shrill her conjuring of the circle and the thing she'd shared it with vanished。 She felt Dowd's grip on her wrist slip； and her body toppled。 She flailed as she fell； and more by luck than design her motion threw her sideways； along the rim of the well； rather than pitching her within。 Instantly； she began to slip down the incline。 She clutched at the pavement。 But the stone had been polished by years of passage； and her body slid towards the edge as if the depths were calling in a long…neglected debt。 Her legs kicked empty air； her hips sliding over the well's lip while her fingers sought some purchase； however slight…a name etched a little deeper than the rest； a rose thorn； wedged between stones…that would give her some defense against gravity。 As she did so she heard Dowd cry out a second time； and she looked up to see a miracle。
Quaisoir had survived the mite。 The change that had e over her flesh when she rose in defiance of Dowd was here pleted。 Her skin was the color of the blue eye； her face； so lately maimed； was bright。 But these were little changes； beside the dozen ribbons of her substance； several yards in length； that were unraveled around her； their source her back； their purpose to touch in succession the ground beneath her and raise her up into a strange flight。 The power she'd found in the Bastion was blazing in her and Dowd could only retreat before it； to the edge of the well。 He kept his silence now； dropping to his knees； preparing to crawl away beneath the spiraling skirts of filament
Jude felt slip what little hold her fingers had and let out cry for help。
〃Sister？〃 Quaisoir said。
〃Here！〃 Jude yelled。 〃Quickly。〃
As Quaisoir moved towards the well； the tendrils' lightest touch enough to propel her forward； Dowd made his move； ducking beneath the tendrils。 He'd mistimed his escape； however。 One of the filaments caught his shoulder and； spiraling around his neck； pitched him over the edge of the well。 As he went； Jude's right hand lost its purchase entirely； and she began to slide； a final desperate yell ing from her as she did so。 But Quaisoir was as swift in saving as dispatching。 Before the well's rim rose to eclipse the scene above； Jude felt the filaments seize her wrist and arm； their spirals instantly tightening around her。 She seized them in return； her exhausted muscles quickened by the touch； and Quaisoir drew her up over the edge of the well； depositing her on the pavement。 She rolled over onto her back and panted like a sprinter at the tape； while Quaisoir's filaments unknitted themselves and returned to serve their mistress。
It was the sound of Dowd's begging； echoing up from the well where he was suspended； that made her sit up。 There was nothing in his cries she might not have predicted from a man who'd rehearsed servitude over so many generations。 He promised Quaisoir eternal obedience and utter self…abnegation if only she'd save him from this terror。 Wasn't mercy the jewel in any heavenly crown； he sobbed； and wasn't she an angel？
〃No；〃 Quaisoir said。 〃Nor am I the bride of Christ。〃
Undeterred； he began a new cycle of descriptions and negotiations： what she was； what he would do for her； in perpetuity。 She would find no better servant； no humbler acolyte。 What did she want； his manhood？； it was nothing； he would geld himself there and then。 She only had to ask。 If Jude had any doubt as to the strength Quaisoir had gained； she had evidence of it now； as the tendrils drew their prisoner up from the well。 He gushed like a holed bucket as he came。 〃Thank you； a thousand ti