Gil dusted his hands, casting sand to the wind, which was now blowing stiff and strong to the south. They’d docked in a little alcove at the foot of the Onyx Hills, Gil steering the raft deftly between two large outcroppings.

“If this was water, you’d call this a smuggler’s cove,” said Mery. She stood at the bow of the craft, her cloak blowing back in the breeze.

“I’m sure you’re right, as far as it goes.” Mimay was beside her, watching the rocks as Gil navigated the narrow passage. “But there’s nothing to smuggle and no one to care.”

Lund said, “Are you sure about the ‘no one’ part? Those insects were real enough.”

“Yes, but they don’t exactly trade.”

“How do you stand it?” Marissa rubbed her arms against the cold. “It’s so barren. Cold and barren.”

“How do you stand the lowlands?” Gil called over his shoulder. “All those trees pressing against you. Forests, do you call ‘em? Living coffins, I’d say. Everything so close. Can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t move.” He adjusted the rudder and yanked on one of the thin ropes that controlled the main sail. “Lund! Drop anchor, friend. Ladja would like a catnap now. She’s carried us many miles, many leagues, and now we carry on, on foot. Mortals once more.”

“Are you sure he’s not a bard,” Isa whispered to Mimay.

“That’s just how sailors talk. In port or on deck. Why use three words when ten is so much better?”

“Like I said: bards.” Isa smiled.

Gil led the group through a maze of rock until they were standing at a small cave overlooking a wide canyon. In the near distance, the Shimmer flowed and pulsed. It was impossible to think that Portland lay just on the other side of that wall somehow.

Marissa caught Isa’s eye and smiled. “We’re almost there,” she said.

Mery and Gil both had their spyglasses in hand. Side by side, they scanned the desert floor 100 feet below. With her naked eye, Isa could see white sand flowing through the canyon like a river.

“We’ll be sandblasted the minute we leave this shelter,” she said to Gil.

“We’re not going to the canyon floor,” he said. “We’re going there.” He pointed at a small hill on the plains, near the canyon rift.

“I’ll ask the obvious,” said Lund. “Why there?”

“Boy’s a natural tracker,” said Mimay. “If he says that’s where Dockma is, you could lay money on it.”

Gil collapsed his spyglass and turned to the group. “Tracks lead toward it – worrisome tracks, but they look fresh.” He bobbed his head as if disagreeing with his own statement. “And that is the entrance to catacombs. They have been cultivated and expanded over the years.”

“More tombs,” Isa muttered.

“Not tombs,” Gil said. “Sanctuary. Shelter from the sands and sun, from the wind and the Shimmer storms.”

“Shimmer storms,” Isa and Alice spoke at the same time. “What the hell is a Shimmer storm?” Isa asked.

“Before I met you,” said Mimay, “I would have said they were storms like any you’d see in the lowlands. Why wouldn’t the wind blow through the planes and kick up dust and debris? But that was before Bywick showed me the truth.”

“Bywick is your god?” Alice asked. “And… He told you about the storms?”

“In so many words. The Shimmer – I always thought it was a what, not a who. But that’s what Bywick told me – it’s who. We always say, ‘He watches over all the creatures, great and small.’ And you can’t get much greater than that.” The cleric waved her hand toward the horizon and the nacreous curtain that stretched as far as the eye could see.

“That’s alive? That’s….” Isa fell silent. She’d thought Ysel was speaking metaphorically about healing the Shimmer. It never occurred to her that it was an actual creature in need of actual healing. How long would it take to heal it? Days? Weeks? Maybe longer.

Isa craned her head and tried to see the top of the Shimmer. If there was one, it was lost in the clouds. “I know you’re worried about Dockma and all, but I need to get started healing it. It? Her?” She looked at Mimay.

The cleric shrugged. “Does it have sex organs? This is your quest.”

“What if there are dozens of these creatures?” Alice stepped toward the lip of the path and turned west. “Is there a Shimmer in all directions? If I go that way far enough what do I find?”

“There are mountains to the west,” Gil told her. “No one I know has ever traversed them to see what lies on the other side. To the east is a great sea. The lights flicker at the horizon, where the water meets the sky but—”

“What do the sailors say?” asked Mery.

“What do you mean?”

“The sailors – the other kind of sailors. The ones who sail real— regular ships. On the water.”

Gil furrowed his brow. “Who would do such a thing? You could drown!”

“Trust me, people do it all the time on our plane,” said Alice.

“Drown? I can see why,” said Mimay.

Lund pointed at three specks moving near the small hill that Gil had noted. “Someone is down there. Where’s the glass? Who is that?”

Mery had her spyglass in hand. Training it on the specks she said, “What the… those are dark dwarves. The kind who supposedly never come to the surface. What the hell are they doing in the desert?”

“They are moving toward catacombs,” said Alice.

Isa could tell that was the wrong thing to say. Mery whirled around, slammed her glass closed, and said, “Oh good, the expert opinion I was so lacking. You have done nothing but complain, second guess, and disagree ever since I met you.”

“Me?” Alice moved toward Mery. “The only time you speak to me is to question my actions, my motives, my ideas. I think—”

Lund stepped toward Mery and Marissa toward Alice. “Let’s take a minute,” said Lund, “to remember why you’re here.”

“I’m here for the rewards,” said Mery. She looked Isa in the eye. “Nothing else.”

“Great,” said Marissa. “You can have my share of whatever there is. Let’s just focus on the task at hand.”

At Marissa’s words Isa glanced once more at the Shimmer. It was past the catacombs and impossible to gauge just how far past from this distance and height. And she felt certain that to get to the Shimmer and to be able to heal it, she’d need these allies.

“How do we get down there?” she said to Gil. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Not so fast, Outlander!” Mimay grabbed her arm. “Perhaps we should see what we can before we go traipsing down there.”

“That’s what we just did!” said Alice. “Unless you have some grand— Scry. You have scry, don’t you? That’s a high level spell.” Alice stepped to Mimay’s side. “Can I watch?”

Mimay laughed and raised her eyes to Alice’s. “Wizard, is that right? Never met a wizard thought she could learn anything from a cleric.” She shrugged. “Nice change. Sit down.”

She pulled a flat object from her bag. It was wrapped several times over with a soft, gray cloth. As Isa suspected, it was the silver mirror she’d glimpsed at Mimay’s clinic in the market.

“This is my instrument – what I use to see, well in this case a gnome named Dockma.” She laid the mirror on her lap, face up. “Now everyone – but you, wizard – give me some space and quiet.” To Alice she said, “Since I know the subject….” Under her breath she said, “The ice-hearted, selfish, treasure monger that she is….” And then louder, “I will hopefully have an easier time finding her than if I was looking for someone I didn’t know, someone you’d told me about.”

Alice nodded, and Mimay continued. “You have to concentrate, think with all your heart about the person. And if we’re lucky we’ll see – and if we’re really lucky, hear – what is going on around our subject. They say,” she touched the edge of the mirror, “that you can scry them for ten minutes. I’ve only ever managed five or six. It’s hard work, girl.” Mimay sounded defensive.

Isa debated speaking up and then said, “Last time you only saw tracks. What are the chances—”

“Last time?” Mimay looked up at Isa, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yes, when you listened to a consultation you had no right to overhear. I do remember that.”

The cleric hadn’t seemed annoyed at the time, so Isa was a little taken back by Mimay’s vehemence. Before she could apologize, Mimay said to Alice, “Here’s the thing – there’s a chance that the spell will fail. If someone doesn’t want to be found, you’re not going to see them.”

“But Dockma will want to be found,” said Gil. “She’s no fool. She’ll know we want to help.”

Mimay said, “Now wizard, the key is to think on the feature you know best on the person, and if you have something of theirs— You don’t have anything of hers, do you? Any of you? No? Well then, Bywick willing, I’ll be able to see her and hear, and maybe we can figure out if she is in those caves.”

A little more than ten minutes later, Isa heard a faint voice coming from Mimay’s lap. She leaned in, as did the others. The voice said, “…. Retriever did its work, eh? And now I have what is rightly mine.”

A different voice, higher and female, said, “It’s no more yours than it was mine.”

“That’s her; that’s Dockma!” Gil gripped Mimay’s shoulder and leaned closer to the mirror. “Who’s that talking to her? Who took her?”

“Back up, boy. Don’t break the spell.” Mimay didn’t look up.

“Gil,” Mery grabbed his hand. “Give her room. Scry is delicate.”

“Alice,” Marissa hissed, “what do you see?”

“He’s a dwarf, I think. Caught just a glimpse, and she’s looking down now. I see feet. Flicker of light, a stone floor…. It is the catacombs, I think.”

The voices came through again. “What are you going to do with her?” said a third voice, another male.

“She could be useful,” said the first voice, and Isa caught the dwarven accent.

The male voice grew louder as he replied, “So is a viper, but you—”

Mimay jumped, and the mirror clattered to the ground.

“What happened?” Gil flung himself down and grabbed Mimay’s shoulders. “What did you see?”

The halfling woman blinked as if waking up. “I saw Athar the Eye, the man you Outlanders call Fedru. He and Stonegrime have Dockma.”