The wheels of the semi crunched on fresh snow and the trailer rumbled behind as the truck slowed to take the exit toward Kerenger County. Headlight beams sliced across the sign that bore the name of the road that would take them east. Not far now. Irene, in the passenger seat almost managed to smile. Almost. But this was her first time riding in an automobile so large in such bad weather.

  She had survived worse than this ride many times. They were almost there.

  The trailer swayed with a gust of wind. Irene’s momentary optimism faded. She did not like feeling powerless. Though the driver seemed confident in his vehicle, she felt no additional comfort from that. The man knew nothing, except the lies he had been told by her and others.

  “This rig makes noise in weather like this,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll get us there in one piece.”

  She gave him a curt nod. “I’d appreciate that.”

  He grunted. “You asked me to ride along, remember?”

  “I remember.” Yes, I only had one choice. Irene had no practice driving any kind of exile vehicle, or perhaps she would have chosen to borrow one when she arrived on Earth.

  That would have required time on Earth. Back in the maker world, where she had been born and raised, these smoke-belching conveyances were completely beyond favor.

  She would have much preferred to travel on the wing, or at least on some kind of steed. This metal beast could not compare to the beauty or cleverness of anything made back home. She sighed inwardly and gave the driver a look she hoped was endearing.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, miss. Always nice to do a lady a favor.”

  I suppose you would think so, Irene thought. There was a concept that bordered on charm in his obsolete attitude. She nodded to the driver but said nothing. Best to keep things quiet as much as possible.

  Her time with this inelegant machine and its tedious driver would soon be finished. That would be a relief. She supposed the ride in this truck would be the least of her challenges in the near-future.

  Irene Chambers had traveled across three worlds to get to Kerenger, but now, at last, she approached her destination. Part of her still felt unsure why she was bothering. Except,

  Saul was in Kerenger. The part of her that thought of Saul, one of her oldest and most brilliant friends, her first love, felt no uncertainty whatsoever.

  The heavyset truck driver, an earth-born exile, like nearly all the other people on this backward world, kept his eyes on the road as they left the exit behind. Another sign announcing the turn for Moon Road came into view. The driver grunted and slowed the machine to take the turn.

  The truck carried food supplies for Edwin Samuel Poole College, situated just inside Kerenger Town. Irene had not been lucky to find this ride, she had studied the route with care. She had taken expensive precautions in reaching Earth undetected by the council of worldmakers. The effort to keep herself off the radar of the local guardians who kept the secrets of the makers from this world’s native exiles would certainly be worthwhile.

  Every guardian reported to the council. And the council would ask questions of the sort she did not wish to answer if they discovered her purpose in traveling to the Earth. Worse, they could respond at speed using the passage house in Kerenger itself as their entry point to this world. Irene wanted to talk to Saul face to face without the council’s interference.

  Together, she and Saul had created a new world just a few months ago. The council could give them member status in exchange for sharing that world with them. Irene did not know if that was worthwhile, however.

  The truck followed Moon Road. Irene watched the shadows of barren trees pass by on the side of the road. She kept silent as Moon Road transitioned to Black Run Road. A few miles later they took a bridge over the frozen Black Run River. The lights of the small town of Kerenger grew before them, twinkling in the night. The sky was still dark with clouds, hiding Earth’s feeble starlight.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  They rumbled to a stop just inside the lot of a truck stop off Kerenger’s main street.

  Irene took a deep breath. “How much do I owe you?” Exile money was no object. Worthless for the most part to makers, and relatively easy to replicate compared to the coinage of any state in her world.

  “I didn’t mind having ya,” said the driver. “If you could smile, I’d call us even.”

  Irene turned to the driver and forced herself to make the expression as best she could.

  “That’s alright. Don’t hurt yourself.”

  Irene frowned. Apparently, she had failed. She fished in her purse and found a ten dollar bill. “Here.” She offered the money to the driver. “I hope that covers it.”

  “I don’t need your money,” said the man. He hit the door unlock button. “Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “You too,” said Irene. Strange for an exile, but she felt sincere. She opened the door and climbed down from the truck, then dragged her small bag of luggage after her. He slammed the door behind her and drove off toward the gas pumps.

  A trickle of annoyance seeped into Irene’s mind.

  So what if she couldn’t smile on command for some fat old exile? She could create life in ways no exile ever could, whole worlds given the right material to shape. She stalked to the sidewalk. She would smile when she wanted to smile. A shadow cut the streetlights that led into town. She checked the pocket watch stuffed inside her black winter coat.

  One in the morning.

  She slipped the watch back into her pocket.

  There had been plenty of time for Hush to catch up.

  Her finest bird child circled under the streetlights again and then perched on the sign by the entrance to the lot, a hand span taller than a golden eagle, red feathers bathed in orange light. Irene walked toward him through the brisk night air. His avian eyes twinkled with inner fire that could become literal with great speed. She stopped a few paces away.

  “Don’t speak yet,” she said, then looked around to make sure no one else was there. She saw nobody, neither human nor animal. The winter night lay still. “Alright, have you seen any of Saul’s spies?”

  “No pigeons, mistress.” His voice sounded rich and completely human.

  Saul had been known to make simple art-children to act as surveillance in this area. Many of them took the form of the flying rats exiles referred to as pigeons and Hush often called snacks.

  “Good. If he can’t see us, the council probably can’t either.” Saul was on even worse terms with the council than Irene, but he had lived in Kerenger for almost five years. If the rumors were true the local guardian had just been replaced with someone far more serious. However, the new arrival would be playing catch-up to Saul as far as his or her ability to spy on the town.

  Irene looked over her shoulder at the single truck by the gas pumps. “Any gern about?”

  The monstrous creatures called abei-gern were more threatening to exiles than makers, but it would not do to go forward uncertain of their presence.

  “No, mistress, I cannot sense any.”

  “Good. We may still have some time.”

  When she and Saul had created their new world, their had been more than one complication. The worst of those was the awakening of a monster less astute makers still thought dead. An ancient creature, one of the forerunners to the lesser gern and made of the same power source used by makers to create worlds.

  With that aleph-gern’s return to the cosmic stage, who knew what would happen next. Irene knew she was partially responsible for the impending chaos, and Kerenger was where it would begin. She had traveled here to warn Saul about the possible response of the makers. She still felt enough for him to do that.

  “Take to the air, but stay close,” she told Hush. “I’ll go to the hotel and check in.”

  “As you wish, mistress.” He beat his wings and lifted off of the street sign. He sailed up past the streetlights and disappeared into the darkness above.

  Irene turned with her luggage in hand and started walking toward the hotel, visible just a few blocks ahead of her.

  “Well, aren’t you an interesting sight,” said a voice from off the sidewalk ahead of her. “A woman dressed in black arrives in a small town all alone.” He stepped off the snow piled alongside the sidewalk, leaving no footprints behind, and dropped the few inches onto the pavement. “Does anyone at all know you are here?”

  He looked like a man, but one chiseled out of blue and gray marble. Despite his unnatural appearance, he could still have been human except for one thing. The energy of the spirit contained within him felt alien and hollow. Hush had judged poorly. This was an abei-gern.

  Irene glared at the monster. Gern deserved caution, but not fear from a skilled maker. “I’ve destroyed gern before. I will destroy you.”

  Hush circled lower, carrying her sword with him.

  “Oh, I quite doubt that.” The gern’s eyes turned from icy blue to blood red. The creature leaped forward. Three feet of sword’s blade emerged smooth and pristine from one palm and thrust forward to strike, and fingers folded all the way back along the hand to form a perversely twisted basket hilt.

  Irene raised her luggage to halt the gern’s strike. The blade buried in the case, and she twisted it to send the gern off-balance. She let go as the travel case burst open. Her changes of clothes fell in torn pieces to the sidewalk. Hush circled her head, and she faced the gern eye to eye.

  Hush opened his beak, and she reached up with practiced ease. The length of her ignition blade emerged from the art-child and rested in her grip. “Try that again.” She focused her spark. A strip of flames ignited along the center channel of her sword.

  He freed his blade from her broken case. His eyes glittered with the flickering flames of her blade. “With pleasure, maker.”

  The sound of sword against sword went unheard in the dead of night.