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in my hands. It was like a wild creature, took me by
surprise. The more I held tight, the harder it pulled, in every
direction.”
    “And then it got away?” Per raised his
well-plucked grey eyebrows.
    “Well, the man had come back to relieve me of
my shift, you see.” Breen took another sip, a larger one this time.
“I was worried, as was not sure if I was supposed to eat those
berries and all, those berries stain your fingers, and there is no
way to hide it, just has to wear off…”
    “But the Night Prism ripped as you held onto
it,” Per said impatiently.
    Breen nodded. He enjoyed telling a tale,
especially if there was free drink to be had. “That’s right. A man
called out to me by name, said I could go. I turned around with the
Night Prism in my hands, my fingers blue as could be. The man, he
must have been someone important, he was dressed all fine, he
shouted out, as surprised as me, and then he jumped at the Night
Prism. This startled the little silver bugger and it pulled so hard
away from me, flapping and luffing so, I thought my shoulders might
get yanked out of joint. Not as strong as I once was I guess. In my
prime, I thought I might be a Wrangler…” Breen’s eyes grew moist at
the memory of his younger, more hopeful days.
    “But anyway…that’s when I tried to get a
better grip on it, shifted my hands up but it slipped away the
second I loosened my fingers.” Breen flexed his thick, dirty hands.
Grime lined the under nail of each finger.
    “But that little piece got caught on my
zipper.” Breen showed Per the offending metal zipper along his
ancient jacket. It was meant to close a long pocket on the side of
the garment. It was half zipped and rusty, having not functioned
for well over a century.
    Per squinted as he topped up his own glass
and Breen’s, then pulled up the nearest stool. He got as close to
Breen as his nostrils would allow without revolt. Then he inched a
bit closer, sure it would pay off.
    “Breen, my good fellow, how did you get this
job in the first place?”
    Breen gulped this liquid down and eyed his
empty glass. “He asked for me specifically,” he said, trying
to hide his pride.
    “Who is ‘he’?”
    Breen started to fumble with his jacket,
buttoning and unbuttoning the dull metal buckles. The wool was worn
thin along the bend in the arm and his dry patchy elbow shown
through in some places.
    Per was in no mood for coy traders. “Breen,
out with it or you’ll never drink here again. You know your credit
is no good elsewhere. Who was it asked you to guard the Liquid
Mines?”
    Breen finished his drink, sure it would be
his last. He uttered a word that stopped Per’s heart.
    “Hyko.”

Chapter 8
    If a being could be both alive and dead,
Princess Cressida thought, this is what it would be like. She was
conscious, of that she was sure. But she could not feel her body.
Any body or anything. In fact, she could not sense anything
corporeal. No touch, no smell, no taste, no sight. Wait. Sound? She
tried listening. There was the absence of sound, which she decided
was quite different from silence.
    She willed herself forward, not knowing if
she was merely shrouded in darkness or numbed by the transition
from the Night Prism. There! she heard a sound, a fine high-pitched
repetitive squeal. She stopped to listen more clearly and the sound
ended. Perhaps it turned a corner away from her? She moved in a
different direction, toward the source of the sound. There it was
again, that high-pitched squeal. What a shrill noise! She tried to
move away from the sound, deciding best to avoid its maker, but it
followed her as she turned a corner and climbed up a slope.
    Wait a minute. She stopped to consider this
strangeness.
    How was she moving? She stopped and thought.
She could not see herself, could not feel herself. No feet, no
legs. But she was definitely moving . Without a body.
    Princess Cressida turned to retrace from
where she started and the wailing began