Quoted By:
>6 hits, 2backfires
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<span class="mu-i">The fine structure of the world screams at the edges. The sparkheart graduates twist the ends of their fuel cells. The wires twist and tug in an unseen wind. The world flutters. Shadows lengthen and shorten and cease to be. Vast distant. . . observers . . . look down upon Lamia, upon Scylla who is more real than some people will ever be, upon Herako the graduate, who spent four years selling out every friend he had to afford to go to this place of study, on Simesto who is doing all of this - ALL of this - for her sister - upon this little cut in the skein between Here and the Other.
The Greybeard nods, makes a few notes, adjusts, shouts a mathematical notation, Simesto shudders and pulls out another fuel-cell. It sparks into life. Four of Lamia's wires catch fire.
A rank impossibility. How does the sun burn?
And then . . . </span>
