“Overseers are not allowed past the gates. It is a protected zone for the Riders’ former hosts. A gift for their service. We cannot interfere.”

  “Sounds like a sweet setup, except we’re not former hosts.”

  Gingerbread stopped.

  “Yet. The Riders may have a change of heart before we reach the gate. I will make one final attempt before journey’s end.”

  The Overseer’s eyes glistened, although Royal couldn’t tell if it was tears or the reflection from protostars. He suspected the creature broadcasted a quiet plea for the Riders to separate.

  They reached the ridgeline moments later and stared out at a wide valley. Moon gasped. Most of the valley was awash in light.

  “Fuck me,” Royal said. “It’s a city city.”

  “You thought I meant something else?”

  “Not this.”

  “It’s huge,” Moon said. “How many people live there?”

  “Ninety-two thousand and six. Soon, eight.”

  Royal adjusted his eyes and cut through the dazzling nightlights to focus on the details. Kaleidoscopic waves of color danced across the valley, emanating from spires, towers, domes, and flying vehicles, the last of which reminded him of Pinchon’s UpWay. Street lights glowing pink or blue striped through the city along its elaborate grid. Fireworks exploded near the far end of Bessios.

  “A modern city,” Moon said with dropped jaw. “Right here, in the middle of …”

  “Nowhere.” Royal finished the sentence. “How is that possible?”

  “Modern is a relative term,” the Overseer said. “You will find much of Bessios is ancient in its architecture and traditions. If you look with a closer eye, you will observe large sections existing on candlelight or oil lamps. It reflects the desires of its fortunate few.”

  The Overseer handed each a pair of binoculars. Royal didn’t bother asking how Gingerbread produced these out of nowhere. He understood the formula. He took one look through the lenses and stepped back for a doubletake.

  “They magnify well,” Gingerbread said.

  “No shit.”

  He saw the city at the street level. Pushing across the grid, he encountered everything from elaborate pagodas to log cabins to brick mansions to high colonnades to block-long glass towers. Street traffic featured horse-drawn carriages sharing space with four-wheel automobiles, flying sedans, and rifters.

  “There’s no rhyme or reason. It’s like history threw up on one town.”

  “It evolves to the needs of its residents. Their whims often take on the characteristics of their neighbors. I am told the city changes by the hour. A feature rises in the place of another then is gone by day’s end.”

  “How does that work?”

  “Imagination designs Bessios; the Origin constructs it.”

  “With what? The silver rain?”

  “You will enjoy that feature. They call it flexmatter.”

  “OK, then. What do you think, Moon?”

  Moon lowered the binoculars.

  “All I want right now is a nice bath. Then I want to shave my beard and cut my hair and feel normal again.”

  “Yeah, no. None of this is normal, but I get your meaning. I could stand a comfy bed, a tall drink, and a pipe. What do you think, G? Can we find all that down there?”

  Gingerbread smiled for the first time since he met them in the field of battle.

  “And much more. You will be treated to great fanfare. New arrivals do not come along often.”

  “How often?”

  “After the Riders conclude a journey. Each pair is said to bring new life to the city. Alas, I only have the word of the Gatekeeper. I try to glean what I can from her whenever I leave a new pair. Are you ready to descend?”

  Royal wrapped an arm around Moon.

  “What d’ya say, killer? Let’s get you a nice bath.”

  Moon held his nose.

  “Wow. You stink worse than I do.”

  “Yeah, well. I’ve always had a nice healthy musk. Actually, I think it’s these clothes.” He sniffed a shirt sleeve. “Stale.”

  “Standard issue,” the Overseer said. “Everyone enters Bessios with the same beige attire. A clean slate. You’ll use your imagination to create a wardrobe befitting you.”

  “Would you look at this, Moon? All these months he won’t tell us shit; now he won’t shut up. I think G’s been playing games.”

  “I’m tired of games, Royal.”

  “Me too. Let’s beat a path to Bessios.”

  The descent took longer than expected. The path winded like a rattlesnake across sand. At the base of the hills, a forest posed new challenges, as its canopy blocked the protostars’ light. Gingerbread produced a glow stick, but it outlined the difficult terrain, which turned swampy. They walked across fallen trunks and slippery stones. Royal cursed a few times, although Moon took the mantle for filthiest tongue. His impatience reached a crescendo when he slipped off a log into slimy, knee-deep water.

  “I know what you’re doing, asshole!” He shouted at Gingerbread. “You’re stalling for time. You’re taking us the long way in because you’re hoping the Riders will change their minds. I’m tired of your fucking games. You got no right to treat us this way. We’ve been walking for months, and I died four times since I’ve been here. Suck my cock, Gingerbread.”

  Royal liked seeing Moon with his dander up.

  “What he said,” Royal told the Overseer. “How far?”

  Gingerbread pointed his glowstick a few meters ahead, where the swamp ended and high ground returned.

  “One hundred meters to the First Gate.”

  Royal helped Moon out of the muck and leaned in close.

  “For the record, Moon. Have you ever sucked anybody’s cock?”

  “What? No. You’ve asked me before.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “You can be so disgusting.”

  Royal winked.

  “On a good day. Come on.”

  The tree line soon opened into a small pasture. Standing ten meters tall, a wooden façade stretched in both directions toward the horizon. Beyond it, the lights of Bessios raged.

  “When we approach the gate, a spotlight will shine upon us. Inside, you will hear a bell signifying new arrivals. If the Gatekeeper is on duty, the gate will swing open within seconds. If she has to be notified, we might wait longer.”

  “Just to be clear,” Royal said as they advanced. “This person looks after a gate that only opens when pairs like us drop in, which I gather ain’t too often.”

  “Correct.”

  “What’s her motivation for staying nearby?”

  “It is her role and her honor. Should that not be enough?”

  “If you like sitting around with nothing to do for a lifetime.”

  “Every resident of Bessios has a role. No one sits for long. Or so I have heard.”

  “Huh. You know this Gatekeeper well?”

  “She has served this role for several human lifetimes.” Gingerbread stopped fifty feet shy of the gate. The spotlight fell upon them. “Please. I ask you both to face me this final time.”

  Royal and Moon complied. As expected, the Overseer made his last plea to the Riders.

  “Qu’ino e’ z-hir’a for-ta mu si qu-zow?”

  Royal felt nothing. Moon shook his head. The Overseer shaded his eyes and nodded in recognition before staring at Royal.

  “Then your decision has been cast, Rider.” He turned to Moon. “I wish you the greatest happiness on this final journey, Rider.”

  Royal read the creature’s frown.

  “Thanks for being a good sport, G. About what? I got no clue. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

  The First Gate creaked as it slid open, its threshold perhaps ten feet wide and tall. A shadowy figure stood in the center.

  “Royal, Moon: Walk toward the gate. She’s waiting.”

  Royal didn’t know what to expect, but he reached the crazy assumption that a person called Gatekeeper for the lone city in an impossible place called the Origin must rank high on the food chain. An impressive, wise creature with the poise, esteem, and rare sophistication of an older woman. Whatever that meant.

  So, when he found her to be a teenager wearing a see-through nightgown and blowing her fingernails dry, Royal assumed she was a last-minute substitute, or the Overseer was playing a prank.

  “I am so very sorry,” she said, bouncing up and down like she needed a bathroom break. “I truly hope I did not keep you waiting. Long story short, I was throwing a party and the last few guests were being pains in the ass about leaving and … well.”

  She had long red hair similar to Gingerbread, but Royal thought it was a wig. He loved her eyes; they struck him as property of someone incapable of lying, which would have been a first in Royal’s experience. She had small, pouty lips which curled in a sultry smile, and she colored her cheeks to match those lips.

  Royal smiled. Moon smiled. They glanced at each other and shrugged. The girl turned to the Overseer.

  “What happened to the early-warning system? If I’d known you were bringing in the next pair …”

  Gingerbread raised his hand.

  “There were complications, Felina. Please, gentlemen, step inside so the Gatekeeper can have a closer look.”

  Royal saw a yellow glow just beneath the soil’s surface, connecting the two sides of the doorway. The Overseer and Gatekeeper stood opposite the line. Royal and Moon crossed.

  Felina held her arms wide as if ready to wrap both in a hug.

  “I am so …” She couldn’t stop smiling. “Everyone is going to be ecstatic to hear we have new arrivals. Here’s the thing, guys. I was literally touching up my last nails when the bell rang. Then I’m looking over, and there’s three morons on my couch in a drunken stupor. But enough of me. I am so excited to see you.”

  Her voice, more mature and worldly than her appearance would have predicted, rose with every syllable, hitting the end of each sentence with a crescendo.

  “You look … well, you look … positively, utterly …” She paused for effect then shouted, “Terrible! Oh, heavens. And you stink. But please don’t take offense. You’re not the first to show up looking like the Overseers dredged you out of a gutter.”

  Royal marked this moment; he found someone who could render him speechless.

  “Felina,” the Overseer said. “Please. Look closer and listen.”

  “Oh, yes. Sure. I’ll get right in here and …”

  Royal smelled her breath. He didn’t recognize the liquor on it. As he soon discovered, it didn’t matter.

  Felina’s eyes appeared ready to pop out of her head. She gasped once, twice, three times. Then she contorted into a strange combination of joy and grief. At least, the tears appeared to be mournful. Her voice suggested otherwise.

  “It can’t be. Can it?” She whirled around to Gingerbread. “Am I reading this the right way? I can’t screw this up. Everyone will be …”

  “You’re correct, Felina. The Riders stand before you.”

  “No. I mean, yes. Obviously. I feel them. Is this … Prelude?”

  “The Riders have made their choice.”

  Royal broke out of her spell.

  “OK. So while we’re all here gazing at each other, maybe you can tell me what this Prelude is?”

  Felina closed her fists, oblivious to her fingernail paint, and clapped them together like a girl who’s greatest wish had come true.

  “This is beyond my wildest …” She deepened her observation. “You’re not even from the same universe. Overseer, they’re not from the same universe. That’s at least a billion to one intersection. Many of us wondered if this is how it would end. It must be Prelude.”

  “I should leave now,” Gingerbread said. “My job is done. I may never see you again, Felina. I hope you will treat them well.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. And don’t sound so sad, Overseer. We meet about every half a lifetime and say ten words. Thanks for all the pairs, and enjoy life in the protostars. I’ll take it from here.”

  Felina slapped a hand over her mouth and ogled the pair.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever come down from this.”

  The Overseer turned away, but Royal wanted the last word.

  “Thanks for all the games, Gingerbread.”

  The red-haired man did not look back. As he entered the shadows, his silhouette dissolved until nothing remained.

  “Who is …?” Felina started. “Oh, you gave him a name? That’s a first, Rider.”

  “I’m Royal. This is Moon.”

  “Of course, sweetie. Definitely. You want to keep your old identity. Who doesn’t, really? Gingerbread, huh? Nice one. Wish I’d thought of it. His real name is twenty-two sounds long, with four clicks toward the end, and three tones too low for human ears. Enough about him. Overseers are shocking bores.”

  “What now?” Moon said.

  “Trust me, the list is long.” She poked at the Hokki’s nose. “I think you’ll be a cutie after a bath and a shave. So, follow me. We’ll put you up in the transition house. I haven’t dusted in a while, but it should be fine. All the creature comforts, and what not.”

  The gate closed and the spotlight disappeared, leaving them in a realm of gaslight and shadows. A narrow stone street wove between a pair of somber brick towers. Lamps dangled from sconces drilled into the brick.

  “OK, this don’t look like the city we saw from the hill.”

  “This is the old town, Royal, where it all started. Bessios wasn’t more than a village after the first pairs arrived. It’s mostly me and my friends now. Quiet, you know? Probably a good thing, too. When word gets out who’s here …”

  She clapped her fists together again.

  When they passed the towers, the cobbled street widened. The clomp-clomp of a horse’s hooves echoed nearby. A man raced out of a store waving his hands. He carried a wide, clumsy frame and held his pants up with suspenders.

  “You’re late!” Felina shouted.

  “Sorry, Fee. I had a good one going. What happened to the early warning system?”

  The man, twice Felina’s age with a scraggly beard and half-moon bald head, dropped his jaw when he saw Royal and Moon. Felina dragged him out of earshot and whispered with a frantic pace.

  Royal heard enough. Riders. Prelude. The man jumped up and down like a fevered schoolboy.

  “They have to know,” he said, unable to contain himself.

  “Not all before breakfast. Give ‘em time to clean up.”

  “You know what this means, Fee?”

  “Give me till first light.”

  “No promises.”

  The man didn’t bother to introduce himself. Instead, he scurried back inside, laughing all the way.

  “Who was that?” Moon said.

  “An idiot, but he’s my idiot. Never you mind. Time for a hot bath and a good shave.”

  They followed her up the street and down an alley too narrow for people to walk abreast.

  “Do you understand any of this?” Moon said from behind Royal.

  “I’m swimming with the tide, Moon. What choice we got?”

  Felina led them up a narrow set of stone stairs with steep risers. Inside this building, the gas light transformed to modern scones which lit by motion detection. She led them down a wide hallway with framed landscapes on the walls. The floors shined in a parquet theme.

  They entered a living space with a carpeted floor, a wide fireplace with mantlepiece and viewscreen mounted above, an overlong leather sofa, and tall palms in huge planters. A full-service kitchen with sleek storage and stovetop grill included a well-stocked bar, copper pots and pans hanging from the ceiling above a cutting island, and an industrial-size refrigerator and freezer. It resembled one of the nicer Pinchon flats Royal bunked in during his serial-killer days.

  “Nice, huh?” Felina said. “I’ll have you fully stocked with perishables in no time. C’mon, then. Let me show you the best part.”

  A hallway from the common area took them to a pair of bedroom suites, each well-apportioned with everything, including bedcovers with ruffles.

  “It’s all fairly generic, but I haven’t had a complaint in at least ten lifetimes. Ugh, you wouldn’t believe the dreck they were bringing in fifty, twenty lifetimes ago. The culture shock was the worst. So. Questions?”

  Royal had a few hundred, but the exhaustion, hunger, and body odor took precedent in the moment. He saw the same realization in Moon’s weary eyes. Still, his curiosity needed a quick fill-up.

  “So, is this home? Or is it temporary?”

  “It’s yours until you find your footing. As long as you need. I’ll be setting up in the kitchen. Oh, and I’m very good with a razor. Trimmed a lot of beards in this place. Just saying.”

  “Good to know, Felina. One more, and I’ll let you go.”

  “Oh, sure, Royal. Anything.”

  “This, uh, Prelude shit I keep hearing about. Care to elaborate?”

  She waved him off.

  “Long story, long story. Save it for after breakfast.”

  “No, really. What is it?”

  “If you promise not to lose your biscuits.”

  “Sure. Whatever that means.”

  She shrugged in the doorway.

  “It’s the end. You know? The end of all things.”

  She rushed off. Royal thought he heard her wrong.

  “Wait, what?”

  12

  The Aston James

  Tranteum system

  I HOPE THEY DON’T EXPECT me to remember all their names,” Kara told her husband. For the first time in more than two hours at the reception gala, they had a moment to themselves.

  “Yes,” Cando said. “Every name. Including the proper accents on the more exotic ones.”

  His smirk gave him away.

  “I thought the Caledonians were difficult, but the Aztecans and Kartus?”

  “Many you won’t see again, hon, and the others will understand. Your speech earned enough goodwill to last through the conference.”

  Strangers approached from across the galaxy and leaned on a common theme. Kara’s reference to domestic rivalries and cruelties hit a nerve. At one point, more than a dozen delegates wrapped around the Aleksanyans to express their admiration or tell their own stories of discord. If Kara had an ego worth stoking, she would have been quite happy with herself. Instead, she grew weary of the attention.