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'There you are, you little shithead' Morgan bellowed at him. His voice carried, but it had a muffled, dead quality as it came from the reality of that world into the reality of this one. It was like listening to a man shout inside a telephone booth. 'Now we'll see, won't we? Won't we?'

Wolf struggled up again, his hair plastered against his face, his dazed eyes peering through a curtain of it like the eyes of an English sheepdog. He was coughing and staggering, seemingly no longer aware of where he was.

No time just now, Morgan. Sorry, but I've got to see if I can avoid getting drowned by Wolf's herd before I see if I can avoid getting fried by your doomstick there. I-

'Wolf' Jack screamed, but thunder exploded across the blue sky again, drowning him out.

And the small silver thing in his hand had turned to a small rod tipped with crawling blue fire.

Jack whirled clumsily around in the stream, barely avoiding another cow-sheep, this one floating on its side, dead in the water. He saw Wolf's head going down again, both hands waving. Jack fought his way toward those hands, still dodging the cattle as best he could. One of them bunted his hip hard and Jack went over, inhaling water. He got up again quick, coughing and choking, one hand feeling inside his jerkin for the bottle, afraid it might have washed away. It was still there.

The cry was low, gargling, full of water.

But the Queen's son died an infant, died, he-

And the small silver thing in his hand had turned to a small rod tipped with crawling blue fire.

The parka wavered, disappeared for a moment, then came back as a cloak and hood.

He stood at midstream in water that was crotch-deep, cattle passing on either side of him, baa-ing and bleating, staring at that window which had been torn in the very fabric of reality, his eyes wide, his mouth wider.

But the Queen's son died an infant, died, he-

But the Queen's son died an infant, died, he-

'There you are, you little shithead' Morgan bellowed at him. His voice carried, but it had a muffled, dead quality as it came from the reality of that world into the reality of this one. It was like listening to a man shout inside a telephone booth. 'Now we'll see, won't we? Won't we?'

He's found me, oh dear God, he's found me.

'Boy'

But he struggled on toward Wolf, pushing a dying, weakly convulsing cow-sheep out of his way to get there.

Jack whirled clumsily around in the stream, barely avoiding another cow-sheep, this one floating on its side, dead in the water. He saw Wolf's head going down again, both hands waving. Jack fought his way toward those hands, still dodging the cattle as best he could. One of them bunted his hip hard and Jack went over, inhaling water. He got up again quick, coughing and choking, one hand feeling inside his jerkin for the bottle, afraid it might have washed away. It was still there.

There was another clap of thunder, this one a huge oaken thud that rolled through the sky like an artillery shell.

He stood at midstream in water that was crotch-deep, cattle passing on either side of him, baa-ing and bleating, staring at that window which had been torn in the very fabric of reality, his eyes wide, his mouth wider.

He could feel the force of that command, gripping his face with invisible hands, trying to turn it.

'Wolf' Jack screamed, but thunder exploded across the blue sky again, drowning him out.

But he struggled on toward Wolf, pushing a dying, weakly convulsing cow-sheep out of his way to get there.

It's a lightning-rod. Oh Jesus, it's a-

'Jason' Morgan of Orris screamed, and Jack realized that Morgan was not cursing in the Territories argot; he was calling his, Jack's, name. Only here he was not Jack. Here he was Jason.

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