HOME | DD

Description
The city is cold, the chill in the air snuffing out even the bravest flame that dares struggle against it. My lips are broken and hard, my tongue dry, icicles hanging from my nose. The garments I wear are castaways, taken from the refuse of those fortunate enough they can spare to merely discard it. I, conversely, can not. It is tattered and worn, the fabric like cheesecloth in areas, mismatched patches affixed to it in a desperate attempt to keep in the minute warmth it retains. It carries the stench of its origin, with a faint scent of mothballs and rum, intermingled with that of the decomposing matter. The air carries with its winds not only ice and snow, but also trails of lung-clogging black chimney smoke, and that of coal-fueled factories in the distance. Thankfully, I am upwind of the slaughter-yards, but the wind howls in an unearthly manner, a tortured beast screaming and writhing in pain. Another beast grumbles as well, deep inside my thin frame. The last thing I ate was a rat I had cornered and skewered with a sharp stick, but that was well over three days ago. Winter has been a cruel mistress in the past, frigid and uncaring, but this year she has been harsher still, her claws stretching across the countryside, choking it. I stumble against her invading army, my feet trudging in the tail of her gown, skirting dangerously within her reach, struggling to not fall behind her as she marched towards her sister Spring.

Desperate to avoid as much of the wind as I can, I cling to the shadows, moving along the sides of buildings and through alleyways, the coarseness of their surfaces creating new wear on my coat. Turning around a corner I see a man nearly a hundred yards from me, stumbling, his nose almost ablaze. Even at this distance, I can hear his off-key singing, and the wind blows the stench of his drink towards me. I wince, my side aching, and come to a realization. Without more sustenance, I will most likely not last the night. The man ahead of me may be a brazen drunkard, but his attire is that of prosperity the likes of which I have never held. He can afford to spare whatever finances remain on his person. I take a slow step towards him, hesitant. I have never pick-pocketed anyone before, and never stolen anything of enough value to be noticed. I have just taken what I have needed to survive, and even that pained my conscience. I take another step towards him, and I can see his face more clearly. It is Edward Duxley, one of the town's few doctors. He is well known for his skill, but he never paid my poor soul any attention, his aide turning me away each time that I came to his door. I had to fight off my own fevers, and each time I became weaker.

I take another step, resolved to my actions even more than before. Knowing who the stranger was still made me wary, but at least with him I could justify my actions. If not to the authorities and the heavens, at least to myself. Theft was theft, but a man of his nature did not deserve to be misusing it when so many other waifs such as myself did not have enough to spare. I took another step and suddenly a light illuminates the alley. I look around, seeking to put it out before the man takes notice of me. Finally, I look up, and my mouth drops in shock. There, suspended fifteen feet in the air, is a shimmering light, shifting in hue and saturation like a soap bubble, but far more dense, far more solid, if such a thing were possible. I step back, towards the doctor, my eyes affixed on its pentagonal shape as a hand reaches out of it. Then, a man falls out of the light onto the snow below, lying motionless as the light vanishes as swiftly and mysteriously as it had appeared.

I turn to look towards Doctor Duxley, but the man has walked further down the lane, unaware not only of my presence, but also of this witchery in the sky. I look back to the man and see that his clothing, while not as refined as that of the doctor, is still far more lavish than mine. I turn him over to see his face far more clean-shaven than that of most of the elite of this region, far more like that of a student of one of the universities. His hair is like wheat, soft and blonde, waving across his scalp like fields of grain in the wind. I take note of his few possessions. A bag strapped around his shoulder lays sprawled on the ground, his coat opens wide, and inside are a wide assortment of parchments, and a few odd trinkets, but nothing I would consider worth pawning. I try to open his bag, but the lock on it is strangely not that with a key, but instead a bizarre thing with a dial and numbers, far too many to be on a clock, and it has no hands either. I look back at the man's face and finally sigh.

Four hours later I awake in one of my hiding places to the sight of large gears and shafts, wooden and splintered. It is an abandoned clock tower that looks out at the lane the doctor had been on. I look around and see the man I had carried here has also awakened, and is staring out of a broken panel of the wall at the street below. As I take a step towards him the floor creaks and he turns rapidly, a scowl on his face. Seeing it is only I, his features soften and he smiles slightly. I smile back, and he points at himself.
“Ludwig Von Himmelseher.” I nervously run a hand up the arm opposite it and reply,
“Nemon Itzal Kobor. Welcome, Ludwig, man from the sky.” The man's eyes sharpen for a moment and then he laughs.
“Ah! I was afraid I had perhaps landed in a place of savages bereft of civilized tongue. But I see that the language is not too far different from my own. Thank you for your kind welcome.” I relax a little to hear him speak more than his name, to know it is not the tone akin to that of a demon. He looks back to the hole for a mere moment as if expecting something, and then looks back to me. He inspects me for a mere moment, then looks around the room. Noticing there is but one door, he frowns, but then reaches down towards his bag, which now hangs loosely from his shoulder at his side. I silently watch as he turns the dial a few times, then unlocks his bag, pulling out a couple wax-paper wrapped packages. He passes one on to me, and then opens his, taking a bite out of its contents. I hesitate and bow to him slightly, doing the same. Though it is dry and thick, the item is very sweet and I eat it ravenously. I am about to ask him for more, but strangely my hunger is abated. I look down at my belly in confusion and then up at him. He laughs again, and finishes his before saying, “Obviously you have not eaten well in quite some time, Nemon, but these rations will keep you full for nearly a day.” I blush, and bow once again, to which he smiles. His eyes, like a hawk, examine me again, and then he pulls out another three packages. Two are further rations, and the other is wrapped in cloth. He sets them down on the floor close to him and waves a hand over them. “In payment for your generosity and speed taking me from my place of landing.” I move cautiously towards them, stuffing the rations into my pockets, then opening the cloth slowly.

The faint light of the dawn is still enough to pierce the holes in the tower's walls, and reflect of off the item I hold in my hand. It is a silver brooch, inlaid with a few sapphires. Enough value, perhaps, to exchange and afford food and lodging for the winter and beginning of spring. Enough to keep me alive longer if I am able to find legitimate employment during such time. I beam up at him, my eyes wide at such a gift, but he merely smiles and nods. I pocket it as well and he returns to looking out the window. A few minutes pass in silence before I finally speak what has plagued my mind.
“Are you an angel?” Indeed, he seemed to be the very picture of such a being, generous, kind and handsome too I suppose. He laughs even more heartily than before, shaking his head.
“I suppose I'm more akin to what you might call a wizard? If your world has such a thing?” I nod, recalling a book I had once read in a library before I was thrown out.
“Only in fiction though, to the best of my knowledge, sir.” He smirks.
“Well, what I am is a traveler, a man who wanders across and through the stars, dancing between the dimensions. I am technically forbidden to tell you of this, but I suspect that you already knew I was not from your world due to my entrance into it.” My jaw drops, and he looks out to the hole again, this time with worry on his face. I look out as well, and see a flash of light come from the alley he had fallen into. Moments later a man clad in black leather with fiery hair steps out into the lane and looks up, as if looking into my eyes, my soul. I turned to Ludwig to see him as disturbed as I was, if not more. He grabbed my arm harshly, pulling me along with him. “Come with me Nemon, this place is not safe if he is here.”

I knew not who the foe that dogged him was, but clearly it was not someone he wished to be found by. We hurried down the tower's spiral staircase, with him pulling me along, hurting me slightly, but I did not voice such concerns, for his haste seemed appropriate. There, guarding the only exit to the staircase, was the man in black. His emerald eyes were like mine, but they burned to look at, so fierce was his gaze.
“Let the boy go Lud. You need not bring an innocent into this. Your crimes against the council will be held in trial, and I will do everything in my power to lessen your sentence.” Ludwig's face was infected suddenly with a vile scowl, his teeth bared in rage as he spat back,
“You think I fear the tribunal?! You ignorant fool, I am but a pawn in this whole affair! Those responsible will do far worse than exile me for years without my key, they won't even have the shred of decency to kill me!” He fumbled with his bag and pulled a dagger out of it, and at first I thought he was going to throw it at the man in black. The stranger unsheathed a sword from his side, but did not need to deflect an incoming attack on his person. Instead, I felt the blade at my throat. Tears in my eyes, I tried to speak, but the blade dug a little deeper. The man in black stepped to the side, circling Ludwig as he walked with me past him. When his back was to the door, Ludwig released the blade from my throat and shoved me at the other man. I stumbled against him, and he casually rolled me to the side, pursuing Ludwig with a speed that astonished the traveler and I alike. The only man to show me kindness in many long months, the man who put more fear of the Lord in me than all the priests in the city, screamed in pain he pierced his own chest with the dagger, and the man in black halted. He pulled the blade out of Ludwig's heart and held him in his arms, and I heard him sobbing even at the distance now between us, his rasping, mournful voice carried by the wind to me.
“Lud... Why?” I sat there on the floor for a moment, tears streaming my cheeks as well. Though I barely had met him, he had offered me my salvation if of my body and not my soul, and I was beginning to want to know more. That is until this stranger arrived, and now Ludwig was dead.

The man in black composed himself, setting the corpse down, and said a prayer in a language I did not understand. Then, he took off his coat, covering Ludwig with it. Slowly, he sheathed his sword, with no need to clean its unstained surface, then turned to look at me. He rose carefully and approached me, looking down at me with eyes so soft, the emeralds melted. I cover my face with my arms, expecting him to attack me, to cover up his tracks. After all, Ludwig had said that he was forbidden to speak of his traveling through the stars to me, and here this man had been ready to fight him. After what seemed like an eternity, I lower my arms and look up to see him extending an open hand. I hesitantly reach out and take it, and he helps me up slowly. I look over at Ludwig's husk and the man sighs.
“I'm sorry that you had to see that. I was hoping to take him in alive to face trial, but he took his own life. Whatever forces had been manipulating him must have been more influential than any of us had thought. I must report this to the council when I return. Are you all right? That's a fairly bloody mark you have there.” He reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping away the blood from my throat. I feel the wound and can tell instantly that it would leave a scar, but that Ludwig had been careful not to cut too deeply. My eyes water once more and I look up at the stranger.
“Where are you going to take him?” I wipe the tears from my eyes, and the man focuses his eyes on mine.
“I don't know how much he told you, but we're not from this town, I-”
“Travel through the stars.” I say without thinking, then cover my mouth.
“Yes, I can see that he told you more than he should have. Very well, yes, I am a Wanderer, and I am going to take him back to his home, to give him a funeral as people of his land prefer, as soon as we are able to determine what that is.” He walks over to Ludwig, and I follow.
“I want to come with. He's the only one.. He had been so kind to me, giving me food and... I can scarcely remember the last time I saw a waif like myself get help that didn't come with a scowl, let alone a smile like his. For as long as I can remember. I think I might have even been imagining some of those smiles given their response to other waifs later. I have to see him home with you.” The man frowns.
“I'm sorry, but that's just not done, we can't-”
“Look at me. I have nothing here. No family, no friends, no home. I wouldn't be missed by anyone.” It pangs me to say such truth, but clearly he believes me. He looks me over again and sighs heavily.
“You realize, if you come with me, your word will mean very little in the decision of what is to be done with you. You will be brought before the council for review and if they agree, they'll have you relocated to a better place, but they might just as easily decide to have you returned here, with all trace of Ludwig's arrival here erased, your memories removed.” I muster up a shrug and scowl.
“I don't care. Just to see him laid to rest, to see the stars, will be enough for me. Such a miraculous thing has happened to me today, and had it not, I might have be the one laying on the ground, dead from starvation. I owe him at least as much to see his body taken care of properly.” The man can see the resolve in my gaze matching his, and he laughs.
“Very well, but you'll have to stick close to me at all times until the council decides what to do with you. I shouldn't even be taking you with me, but I have a strong feeling about you... There is some fire in you, I'll give you that. Who knows, maybe the council will see it too.” He extends his hand once again. “Oddmund Branson.”
“Nemon Itzal Kobor.” I take his hand and grasp it as tightly as I can, which isn't really much, seeing as how emaciated I am. Nodding once, he turned and, bending over, picked up Ludwig's body, his coat covering it entirely. The sun is still rising, but it is a Saturday, and most men are cursing that they had too much brew the night before. The women sleep, thankful that their children will as well, not having to attend lessons for the day. We move cautiously into the snow and trudge a few blocks before returning to the alley the two Wanderer's had first come out of. I groan at the realization that their entrance to this world was still fifteen feet up in the air, and we were on the ground. Oddmund chuckles, and pulls a rope and hook out of Ludwig's bag. Throwing it into the air, he shouts a word I cannot understand, and the shimmering light returns. The hook disappears into it and so does part of the rope. He tugs on it firmly and looks over at me. I gulp, and begin to ascend into the light.

Description
The city is cold, the chill in the air snuffing out even the bravest flame that dares struggle against it. My lips are broken and hard, my tongue dry, icicles hanging from my nose. The garments I wear are castaways, taken from the refuse of those fortunate enough they can spare to merely discard it. I, conversely, can not. It is tattered and worn, the fabric like cheesecloth in areas, mismatched patches affixed to it in a desperate attempt to keep in the minute warmth it retains. It carries the stench of its origin, with a faint scent of mothballs and rum, intermingled with that of the decomposing matter. The air carries with its winds not only ice and snow, but also trails of lung-clogging black chimney smoke, and that of coal-fueled factories in the distance. Thankfully, I am upwind of the slaughter-yards, but the wind howls in an unearthly manner, a tortured beast screaming and writhing in pain. Another beast grumbles as well, deep inside my thin frame. The last thing I ate was a rat I had cornered and skewered with a sharp stick, but that was well over three days ago. Winter has been a cruel mistress in the past, frigid and uncaring, but this year she has been harsher still, her claws stretching across the countryside, choking it. I stumble against her invading army, my feet trudging in the tail of her gown, skirting dangerously within her reach, struggling to not fall behind her as she marched towards her sister Spring.

Desperate to avoid as much of the wind as I can, I cling to the shadows, moving along the sides of buildings and through alleyways, the coarseness of their surfaces creating new wear on my coat. Turning around a corner I see a man nearly a hundred yards from me, stumbling, his nose almost ablaze. Even at this distance, I can hear his off-key singing, and the wind blows the stench of his drink towards me. I wince, my side aching, and come to a realization. Without more sustenance, I will most likely not last the night. The man ahead of me may be a brazen drunkard, but his attire is that of prosperity the likes of which I have never held. He can afford to spare whatever finances remain on his person. I take a slow step towards him, hesitant. I have never pick-pocketed anyone before, and never stolen anything of enough value to be noticed. I have just taken what I have needed to survive, and even that pained my conscience. I take another step towards him, and I can see his face more clearly. It is Edward Duxley, one of the town's few doctors. He is well known for his skill, but he never paid my poor soul any attention, his aide turning me away each time that I came to his door. I had to fight off my own fevers, and each time I became weaker.

I take another step, resolved to my actions even more than before. Knowing who the stranger was still made me wary, but at least with him I could justify my actions. If not to the authorities and the heavens, at least to myself. Theft was theft, but a man of his nature did not deserve to be misusing it when so many other waifs such as myself did not have enough to spare. I took another step and suddenly a light illuminates the alley. I look around, seeking to put it out before the man takes notice of me. Finally, I look up, and my mouth drops in shock. There, suspended fifteen feet in the air, is a shimmering light, shifting in hue and saturation like a soap bubble, but far more dense, far more solid, if such a thing were possible. I step back, towards the doctor, my eyes affixed on its pentagonal shape as a hand reaches out of it. Then, a man falls out of the light onto the snow below, lying motionless as the light vanishes as swiftly and mysteriously as it had appeared.

I turn to look towards Doctor Duxley, but the man has walked further down the lane, unaware not only of my presence, but also of this witchery in the sky. I look back to the man and see that his clothing, while not as refined as that of the doctor, is still far more lavish than mine. I turn him over to see his face far more clean-shaven than that of most of the elite of this region, far more like that of a student of one of the universities. His hair is like wheat, soft and blonde, waving across his scalp like fields of grain in the wind. I take note of his few possessions. A bag strapped around his shoulder lays sprawled on the ground, his coat opens wide, and inside are a wide assortment of parchments, and a few odd trinkets, but nothing I would consider worth pawning. I try to open his bag, but the lock on it is strangely not that with a key, but instead a bizarre thing with a dial and numbers, far too many to be on a clock, and it has no hands either. I look back at the man's face and finally sigh.

Four hours later I awake in one of my hiding places to the sight of large gears and shafts, wooden and splintered. It is an abandoned clock tower that looks out at the lane the doctor had been on. I look around and see the man I had carried here has also awakened, and is staring out of a broken panel of the wall at the street below. As I take a step towards him the floor creaks and he turns rapidly, a scowl on his face. Seeing it is only I, his features soften and he smiles slightly. I smile back, and he points at himself.
“Ludwig Von Himmelseher.” I nervously run a hand up the arm opposite it and reply,
“Nemon Itzal Kobor. Welcome, Ludwig, man from the sky.” The man's eyes sharpen for a moment and then he laughs.
“Ah! I was afraid I had perhaps landed in a place of savages bereft of civilized tongue. But I see that the language is not too far different from my own. Thank you for your kind welcome.” I relax a little to hear him speak more than his name, to know it is not the tone akin to that of a demon. He looks back to the hole for a mere moment as if expecting something, and then looks back to me. He inspects me for a mere moment, then looks around the room. Noticing there is but one door, he frowns, but then reaches down towards his bag, which now hangs loosely from his shoulder at his side. I silently watch as he turns the dial a few times, then unlocks his bag, pulling out a couple wax-paper wrapped packages. He passes one on to me, and then opens his, taking a bite out of its contents. I hesitate and bow to him slightly, doing the same. Though it is dry and thick, the item is very sweet and I eat it ravenously. I am about to ask him for more, but strangely my hunger is abated. I look down at my belly in confusion and then up at him. He laughs again, and finishes his before saying, “Obviously you have not eaten well in quite some time, Nemon, but these rations will keep you full for nearly a day.” I blush, and bow once again, to which he smiles. His eyes, like a hawk, examine me again, and then he pulls out another three packages. Two are further rations, and the other is wrapped in cloth. He sets them down on the floor close to him and waves a hand over them. “In payment for your generosity and speed taking me from my place of landing.” I move cautiously towards them, stuffing the rations into my pockets, then opening the cloth slowly.

The faint light of the dawn is still enough to pierce the holes in the tower's walls, and reflect of off the item I hold in my hand. It is a silver brooch, inlaid with a few sapphires. Enough value, perhaps, to exchange and afford food and lodging for the winter and beginning of spring. Enough to keep me alive longer if I am able to find legitimate employment during such time. I beam up at him, my eyes wide at such a gift, but he merely smiles and nods. I pocket it as well and he returns to looking out the window. A few minutes pass in silence before I finally speak what has plagued my mind.
“Are you an angel?” Indeed, he seemed to be the very picture of such a being, generous, kind and handsome too I suppose. He laughs even more heartily than before, shaking his head.
“I suppose I'm more akin to what you might call a wizard? If your world has such a thing?” I nod, recalling a book I had once read in a library before I was thrown out.
“Only in fiction though, to the best of my knowledge, sir.” He smirks.
“Well, what I am is a traveler, a man who wanders across and through the stars, dancing between the dimensions. I am technically forbidden to tell you of this, but I suspect that you already knew I was not from your world due to my entrance into it.” My jaw drops, and he looks out to the hole again, this time with worry on his face. I look out as well, and see a flash of light come from the alley he had fallen into. Moments later a man clad in black leather with fiery hair steps out into the lane and looks up, as if looking into my eyes, my soul. I turned to Ludwig to see him as disturbed as I was, if not more. He grabbed my arm harshly, pulling me along with him. “Come with me Nemon, this place is not safe if he is here.”

I knew not who the foe that dogged him was, but clearly it was not someone he wished to be found by. We hurried down the tower's spiral staircase, with him pulling me along, hurting me slightly, but I did not voice such concerns, for his haste seemed appropriate. There, guarding the only exit to the staircase, was the man in black. His emerald eyes were like mine, but they burned to look at, so fierce was his gaze.
“Let the boy go Lud. You need not bring an innocent into this. Your crimes against the council will be held in trial, and I will do everything in my power to lessen your sentence.” Ludwig's face was infected suddenly with a vile scowl, his teeth bared in rage as he spat back,
“You think I fear the tribunal?! You ignorant fool, I am but a pawn in this whole affair! Those responsible will do far worse than exile me for years without my key, they won't even have the shred of decency to kill me!” He fumbled with his bag and pulled a dagger out of it, and at first I thought he was going to throw it at the man in black. The stranger unsheathed a sword from his side, but did not need to deflect an incoming attack on his person. Instead, I felt the blade at my throat. Tears in my eyes, I tried to speak, but the blade dug a little deeper. The man in black stepped to the side, circling Ludwig as he walked with me past him. When his back was to the door, Ludwig released the blade from my throat and shoved me at the other man. I stumbled against him, and he casually rolled me to the side, pursuing Ludwig with a speed that astonished the traveler and I alike. The only man to show me kindness in many long months, the man who put more fear of the Lord in me than all the priests in the city, screamed in pain he pierced his own chest with the dagger, and the man in black halted. He pulled the blade out of Ludwig's heart and held him in his arms, and I heard him sobbing even at the distance now between us, his rasping, mournful voice carried by the wind to me.
“Lud... Why?” I sat there on the floor for a moment, tears streaming my cheeks as well. Though I barely had met him, he had offered me my salvation if of my body and not my soul, and I was beginning to want to know more. That is until this stranger arrived, and now Ludwig was dead.

The man in black composed himself, setting the corpse down, and said a prayer in a language I did not understand. Then, he took off his coat, covering Ludwig with it. Slowly, he sheathed his sword, with no need to clean its unstained surface, then turned to look at me. He rose carefully and approached me, looking down at me with eyes so soft, the emeralds melted. I cover my face with my arms, expecting him to attack me, to cover up his tracks. After all, Ludwig had said that he was forbidden to speak of his traveling through the stars to me, and here this man had been ready to fight him. After what seemed like an eternity, I lower my arms and look up to see him extending an open hand. I hesitantly reach out and take it, and he helps me up slowly. I look over at Ludwig's husk and the man sighs.
“I'm sorry that you had to see that. I was hoping to take him in alive to face trial, but he took his own life. Whatever forces had been manipulating him must have been more influential than any of us had thought. I must report this to the council when I return. Are you all right? That's a fairly bloody mark you have there.” He reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping away the blood from my throat. I feel the wound and can tell instantly that it would leave a scar, but that Ludwig had been careful not to cut too deeply. My eyes water once more and I look up at the stranger.
“Where are you going to take him?” I wipe the tears from my eyes, and the man focuses his eyes on mine.
“I don't know how much he told you, but we're not from this town, I-”
“Travel through the stars.” I say without thinking, then cover my mouth.
“Yes, I can see that he told you more than he should have. Very well, yes, I am a Wanderer, and I am going to take him back to his home, to give him a funeral as people of his land prefer, as soon as we are able to determine what that is.” He walks over to Ludwig, and I follow.
“I want to come with. He's the only one.. He had been so kind to me, giving me food and... I can scarcely remember the last time I saw a waif like myself get help that didn't come with a scowl, let alone a smile like his. For as long as I can remember. I think I might have even been imagining some of those smiles given their response to other waifs later. I have to see him home with you.” The man frowns.
“I'm sorry, but that's just not done, we can't-”
“Look at me. I have nothing here. No family, no friends, no home. I wouldn't be missed by anyone.” It pangs me to say such truth, but clearly he believes me. He looks me over again and sighs heavily.
“You realize, if you come with me, your word will mean very little in the decision of what is to be done with you. You will be brought before the council for review and if they agree, they'll have you relocated to a better place, but they might just as easily decide to have you returned here, with all trace of Ludwig's arrival here erased, your memories removed.” I muster up a shrug and scowl.
“I don't care. Just to see him laid to rest, to see the stars, will be enough for me. Such a miraculous thing has happened to me today, and had it not, I might have be the one laying on the ground, dead from starvation. I owe him at least as much to see his body taken care of properly.” The man can see the resolve in my gaze matching his, and he laughs.
“Very well, but you'll have to stick close to me at all times until the council decides what to do with you. I shouldn't even be taking you with me, but I have a strong feeling about you... There is some fire in you, I'll give you that. Who knows, maybe the council will see it too.” He extends his hand once again. “Oddmund Branson.”
“Nemon Itzal Kobor.” I take his hand and grasp it as tightly as I can, which isn't really much, seeing as how emaciated I am. Nodding once, he turned and, bending over, picked up Ludwig's body, his coat covering it entirely. The sun is still rising, but it is a Saturday, and most men are cursing that they had too much brew the night before. The women sleep, thankful that their children will as well, not having to attend lessons for the day. We move cautiously into the snow and trudge a few blocks before returning to the alley the two Wanderer's had first come out of. I groan at the realization that their entrance to this world was still fifteen feet up in the air, and we were on the ground. Oddmund chuckles, and pulls a rope and hook out of Ludwig's bag. Throwing it into the air, he shouts a word I cannot understand, and the shimmering light returns. The hook disappears into it and so does part of the rope. He tugs on it firmly and looks over at me. I gulp, and begin to ascend into the light.