My room at Naga’s made me think I understood him a little better. No matter how much of a mess I made or how much stuff I packed into the reasonably small space, it never looked like anyone lived here. There was a bed, flat and round and designed for a very young lamia, but sufficient to my needs. There were two dressers, both constructed from hard red wood that smelled faintly of turmeric, sized for human use and probably built by some of the same people as assisted the artists; there was a wardrobe that matched the dressers. There was nothing else. Nothing on the walls, which was my own fault. Naga wouldn’t have stopped me from hanging pictures, or maps, or charts, and sometimes I’d been tempted.

  But it felt like there were very few steps between truly starting to make this space my own and starting to think of it, not Buckley, as home. And once I stopped thinking of Buckley, of Earth, as the place where I actually belonged, something would be over. Something I might not ever be able to get back.

  My bag was where I’d dropped it, along with the map roll and pile of books. Might as well look at those now, see what I’d stolen, and figure out whether they were anything Naga might want to keep.

  The map roll was so old it didn’t have a zipper. The top was capped with a hard leather “lid” that creaked and stuck as I wiggled it off. I immediately tipped the case upside down over my bed, figuring that if anything nasty had managed to creep its way in there, it would spill out along with whatever else was inside. Nothing came. I turned it back toward me and peered into the dark interior. Something was mashed up against the side, and bit by bit, I wiggled it out, until I was holding a sheet of vellum approximately three feet long.

  Someone had been mapping for quite some time before they’d ended up on Helos and lost their possessions. Their possessions and, given the surrounding debris, very likely their life. Oh, well. Dead people could still have opinions, and if this map had been haunted by someone who didn’t want to give it up, they would have told me so by now. Picking up a couple of knives to serve as weights, I began unrolling the map on my bed, placing a knife on each corner to keep it flat.

  When I was done, I was looking at something very much like a star chart, except that the things it showed weren’t stars. It was the unfinished point that told me what I was looking at. Our long-lost cartographer, whoever they had been, whatever had happened to them, had been on their way to Helos to chart the dimensions branching off from there.

  Using that as my starting point, I was able to trace back to familiar lines and pathways, finding worlds I knew in the web of interconnected lines. Some of them were connected in ways I hadn’t seen before, new shortcuts and directions that might be useful in the future. And then I reached Empusa in the chart and had to pause.

  Because every dimension is a blood cell or a hex in a hive or a grain of rice in a sack or whatever metaphor you need to let you picture something that literally cannot be pictured by the human mind, there are always a lot of directions you can go. It’s not like being a person standing on a flat plane, where you can walk almost any way that isn’t barricaded, but you can’t go up without a jetpack or down without a shovel. It’s more like being a deep-sea diver. You can go in any direction, three hundred and sixty degrees all-immersive, and because you’ve presumably got a tank of oxygen strapped to your back, you don’t really need to worry about drowning.

  But if you don’t have a guide, you pretty much have to go by what you’re told. You have to follow directions from your dive instructor, basically, the people who’ve been there before and know where the giant eels that like to eat novice divers are lurking. Naga’s dimension, Empusa, was one that had been familiar to me for most of my life, and since he’d been summoned by a Buckley snake cult, it had been relatively easy to get there after Thomas disappeared, requiring just a little blood sacrifice and a little help from a routewitch who’d started out her life as part of a snake cult.

  I say, “relatively easy,” which means it wasn’t impossible, the way it should have been for someone as magically inert as I was. I didn’t have to give up my firstborn child, my name, or any body parts, and I got a one-way ticket out of Earth and into the domain of the only person I knew who might actually be able to help me.

  And Naga had been willing—almost eager, even—to help. He’d started recruiting tattoo artists who knew how to seal sorcery into skin almost immediately, and I’d been on my way within a month, passage charms etched into my arm and no real destination in mind beyond “wherever Thomas is.” I’d been trusting the Healy luck to make me trip over the right rock and fall down the right rabbit hole, like my namesake, coming out in Wonderland.

  It hadn’t worked. Again and again, it hadn’t worked, and again and again, I’d returned to Naga, until the first time I returned with a septic gut wound that was driving my fever through the roof and my blood pressure through the floor at the same time, leaving me barely able to stand unsupported, and he’d taken me to the treatment room while I was still lucid enough to consent.

  I’d sworn it would be the only time, and Naga had agreed, and kept researching possible directions for me to go, but had always told me not to go in one general direction from Empusa, or one general idea of a direction. “There’s nothing that way that’s capable of supporting life,” had been his final word on the subject. “I feel a great deal of responsibility toward you, after the service your mother did me. I’m not going to let you wander off into a blasted hellscape and die from lack of biochemical reactivity in your cells. Stick with the directions we know are safe.”

  But that didn’t match this map.

  According to the map, there was a whole cluster of verified dimensions and worlds off in that direction, and if I was reading the symbols correctly, the nearest of them was environmentally very close to this one. That probably meant it was full of giant snakes, and where giant snakes can survive, so can I, as long as I can avoid the giant snakes before they eat me. All the destinations were labeled, and they all had the tiny runic marks that I had learned in order to amend my tattoos.

  Naga didn’t know. Clearly, Naga didn’t know. It was an easier explanation than Naga lying to me over and over again for fifty years. I rerolled the map and tucked it back into its case, glancing at the pile of books. They looked like they had come from the same place. Maybe they had more information about the mapped dimensions I didn’t recognize. I sat down on the edge of the bed and unbuckled the strap, opening the first book.

  It was written in a language I didn’t recognize, much less understand. Of course. Naga was a professor of extra-dimensional studies, and I briefly thought of bringing it to him for translation, then rejected the idea. If there was any chance he had been keeping this from me for some reason . . .

  No. I couldn’t think like that, but I couldn’t show him the book, either. And I couldn’t explain what I was about to do in any way that would make sense, but I didn’t use my translation charm on about half my trips. I’d be fine without it. Pressing two fingers against the hydrangea tattooed high on my bicep, I concentrated, and felt a wave of dizziness as the tattoo flared and disappeared, used up by the intent to use it.

  When I glanced back at the book, it was written in English, the handwriting neat and precise. It was a cartographer’s diary, of sorts.

  2nd Glorn, fifth year of the reign of our Lady of Pleasures.

  We have found another of the bottle worlds, which must be avoided by those who wish to survive navigation of the great weave. It opens from . . .

  And there the entry went into a list of worlds and dimensions, six in all, before concluding with:

  . . . which opens from Cornale, in the upmost when Cornale has been approached from the correct direction, and with the proper intent. It is a small and a terrible place, and better left forgotten. What enters it does not emerge again, and it is my belief that we have found a place of prisonment. That it contains life is unquestionable. That this life is beyond all access by those who wish to see their homes again is equally unquestionable.

  We will return home via Helos, to document the branches which open from this world. We have heard that it is well-connected to its portion of the weave, and we might use it to discover yet more wonders. Perhaps this will prove true, and we will return home heroes.

  I closed the book, slowly, and stared off into nothing. Eight jumps—nine, if I included Ithaca, which I would have to do to access Cornale, that being the only name on the list I recognized, apart from Helos, where their journey had ended—would leave me too far out to get back. If I entered this “bottle world” they referred to, I’d be down ten, leaving me with five. And five wasn’t even enough to make it back to Ithaca. I should tell Naga about this. We couldn’t pack a single additional crossing charm onto my skin without risking some sort of permanent damage to my nervous system, but maybe he had something external I could take with me, some sort of charm or pendant I could carry.

  And maybe I could ask him why he’d told me there was nothing past Ithaca worth even looking into, when clearly the dimensions in that direction could sustain life, and life that was compatible enough with humanity to draw maps and keep diaries to document their travels.

  Yes. Talking to Naga was the right thing to do, despite the small, nagging voice at the back of my mind telling me not to do this. He was my friend. He would tell me how to proceed. He would help me.

  He’d been helping me for fifty years.

  Six

  “Alice doesn’t trust fast, but once she decides it’s safe to trust at all, she trusts absolutely. I love that girl, but it’s going to get her killed one of these days, and I don’t know what I’m going to do when that happens.”

  —Laura Campbell

  About to enter the office of Naga, Professor of Extra-Dimensional Studies at the University of K’larth

  Naga’s door was slightly ajar, as it always was during his office hours. I paused outside, listening for the hisses that would have meant he was consulting with a student. I might have free run of the estate when I was there, but that didn’t mean I was allowed to just go busting in on him while he was at work.

  Only silence greeted me. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, holding the first of the three books under my arm and carrying the bags I’d been sent to recover in my opposite hand. “Hey, Naga,” I said, by way of greeting. “I was just about to get back on the move, and thought I’d drop these off with you first.”

  He was behind his desk, the great bulk of his body coiled beneath him and his humanoid upper body held at attention. I’ve never been able to understand how he could make that look so effortless, and I would absolutely love to get my hands on some X-rays or a skeletal model of a member of his species, because I want to know. He had a parchment in his hand, and he put it down as he turned to look at me, lightly scaled lips tilting upward in a smile.

  “Alice,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you’d come to see me before you left.”

  “I know, I know, but I’m not in as big of a hurry this time as I was last time.” I put the bags down next to the door, where they wouldn’t block his path if he tried to slither out. “I don’t know if everything’s there. I didn’t want to go digging around in a client’s stuff. But the packs are still tied, and the raiders didn’t seem to be looting the things they stole very thoroughly before they tossed them in the pile. They got my pack, too, and they didn’t even steal the TNT.”

  “You shouldn’t run around with explosives in your bag the way you do,” he said, somewhat chidingly. “One day that’s going to go very poorly for you, and if it happens far enough away from here, I’ll never know what cliffside I need to go and scrape you off of.”

  “Yeah, but when that happens, at least it won’t be my problem anymore.” I smiled at him, trying to look as charming as I possibly could. Naga sighed. He’s never been easy for me to charm.

  “You want something,” he said.

  “We redid my tattoos,” I said. “I have to keep the power on my gateways the same in order to bring Thomas home, but I think I might want to go a little farther afield this time. Is there anything portable I can take with me, to make sure I won’t get stranded someplace where I don’t have any allies?” And why had I never thought to ask that before?

  The question was almost surprising enough to make me lose my train of thought. I blinked, waiting for Naga’s reply.

  Naga looked dubious. “Why would you need to go farther afield?” he asked. “I know there are directions off of Tartarus that you haven’t finished exploring, and there are still bounties around Helos to be cleared.”

  I blinked again before frowning. “You do remember the point of all this isn’t collecting bounties, it’s getting back to my husband, right? That’s all I’m trying to do. Everything else is just consequences of something that was going to happen anyway.”

  “Of course, forgive me,” he said smoothly. “Still, the question remains, if slightly modified: why the sudden rush to go farther than you have before? Fifteen jumps should allow you to go as far from here as seven layers of reality, and you’ve yet to make it more than six without serious injury. What kind of friend would I be if I sent you into the void knowing that you might break yourself when too far from home to return?”

  “But this isn’t my home. It’s my home base. That’s not the same thing. Once I find Thomas, we’re going back to Buckley, and we’re going back to our house, and we’re going to be happy.” I was going to find a way to fit myself into the space that used to fit me perfectly, even if I had to slice something off to do it. I couldn’t keep doing this forever. I needed to rest.

  “I know, Alice,” said Naga. “I’ve never forgotten why you started all of this, or why you allow me to help you. No one wants you to find Thomas more than I do. He always seemed like a very nice man when I knew him.”

  “He wasn’t,” I said. “He isn’t, I mean. A very nice man. He’s a very practical man, and a very generous man when he cares about someone, and a very earnest man, but he’s never been a very nice man. The Covenant doesn’t encourage niceness in the people they train.” Thomas had never liked Naga. He was willing to accept that the lamia was a family friend, and had known me since I was a child, but something about him had rubbed Thomas the wrong way, and there had never been time to really figure out why.

  There hadn’t been time for so many things. We deserved time, and I was tired of wasting it. It was time to bring him home.

  “So please forgive me for saying this, but I don’t care about the bounties around Helos. I didn’t commit to them. The only job I was committed to was bringing back these bags, and look, I did it. Hurt myself pretty bad in the process. We need to update the threat description for Helos. The entry says there’s nothing dangerous left apart from the locals, and unfortunately, that’s just not true.”

  “I wondered how you had managed to fill yourself with chitinous spikes,” admitted Naga. “My question remains. Why the sudden press to go farther afield from Empusa? I thought you had charted all the main roads from here.”

  He was a professor. Professors like research and documentation. Holding this in mind, I dropped the book onto his desk. “I don’t recognize the language it’s written in, but it’s not encoded,” I said. “A simple translation charm should do it.”

  Almost reverently, Naga opened the cover. “Where did you find this?” he breathed.

  I was struck with the sudden firm conviction that I couldn’t possibly tell him about the other two books, or the map, if I wanted to have time to study them. His entire posture had turned possessive, and he was all but curling his arm around the book as he pulled it gently, gingerly closer to his body. Telling him that finders keepers meant it belonged to me wasn’t going to do me a scrap of good, I could tell that much already.

  “It was in the junk pile the raiders on Helos had been assembling,” I said. “I saw it when I was retrieving the bags.”

  “This is one of the lost journals of Aikanis,” he said, in a reverent tone. “He was one of the great dimensional cartographers. We have a library named after him. He vanished on his last charting expedition. His remains—and his research—have never been found. The scribes of Ithaca use a unique ink for their notation. It can’t be faked. You found what no one else has been able to.”

  “Well, I don’t think he made it any farther than Helos,” I said. Crabs can break down a body in near-record time; they don’t eat the bones, but they take them away. Those books had been in the pile long enough to accumulate a layer of dust my grandmother would have grounded me over, and this researcher had been gone long enough to have a library named after him, so I was willing to bet that any forensic evidence was long, long gone.

  “You read this?” Naga raised his head and looked at me, tone wary and surprisingly envious. I was the first person to have touched a work applicable to his field, and now I got to see what professional jealousy looked like on his face. It wasn’t pretty.

  “I skimmed it,” I said. “Why did you tell me there was nothing past Ithaca?”

  He looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “The first page,” I said. “He says there are dimensions and habitable worlds past Ithaca, and if he could survive on Helos, I can survive wherever he went. I want to follow his trail. I want to see what he found.”

  “He was a satyr,” said Naga. “His environmental needs were similar to a human’s. If he survived past Ithaca . . . yes, you could survive there, too. But your body cannot carry any more crossings than it already holds.”

  “Hence why I’m here, asking you if you can give me something external,” I said, trying to sound patient. Everything about this was making me uncomfortable, stillness most of all. I had a direction now. I could go.

  “We decided on tattooing to match your husband’s example, and because you would be unlikely to lose them without losing parts of your body too large to survive,” he said. “Possessions can be lost. External things can be torn away. You would be taking a dear risk if you chose to carry something that was not embedded in your skin.”