No matter what she told that nearsighted tinkerer, Sakaj’s plans balanced on the point of failure. Perhaps that was generous. Her plans were rushing like a waterfall into a lagoon of putrefaction. But she refused to surrender and let that bucket of walrus drool Harik, or that walking scrotum-with-a-sword Lutigan, drape himself in glory.
Sakaj suspected that assistance might be as close as whispering a plea for help. But that kind of help would be worse than her current problems. As a god, she hated to admit that she’d done the kind of ignorant thing she’d seen so many mortals do. But she had, and she’d better admit it, at least to herself. She had no room now for self-deception.
Eight years ago, as the most recent War of Shattering Woe was just ending, Sakaj found herself alone one day in the Dim Lands. Cheg-Cheg had elevated her by smothering her in his armpit on the final day of the war. At that time, the Dim Lands were as beautiful in their way as the Home of the Gods. Sakaj was dangling her feet in the River of Regret, coaxing fish to jump out of the water for her, when a cultured voice rumbled, “I’m awfully sorry about the armpit. It was a necessity of war, but still, I’m certain it lacked charm.”
Sakaj whipped about to see all three hundred feet of Cheg-Cheg blotting out the sky above her. Shock crashed through her brain, since previously Cheg-Cheg’s most articulate statement had been vomiting a battered chariot. He now ran his hideous, eviscerating talons across the tops of the trees as a gentleman might primp a flower arrangement.
Sakaj was a goddess who prided herself on being imperturbable. As the Mistress of the Unknowable, she also prided herself on being inscrutable. Therefore, when she squeaked like a girl whose pigtail had been pulled, she felt a bit embarrassed.
Cheg-Cheg demonstrated the good manners to ignore her squeak of surprise. “You have a beautiful spot here. It exudes loveliness. I shall be sad when I someday lay waste to it and befoul the earth so that nothing may ever grow here again.”
Sakaj stood tall and calmed her breathing. “That would be a shame. You could just, oh, forget to do it. Let it slip your mind.”
“Perhaps.” Cheg-Cheg gazed at the prismatic sun and the clouds of shifting colors.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” Sakaj said, pushing her hair back. “I didn’t think anyone could come here except gods, to tell you the truth.”
Cheg-Cheg glanced down at her before saying, “Oh, that’s not true. Not true at all. They call me the Dark Annihilator of the Void and Vicinity, correct?”
Sakaj nodded.
“Well, this”—Cheg-Cheg gestured around, obliviously cutting three massive blue gum trees in half—“is a Vicinity.” He peered down, and streamers of drool that burned like acid ran from his fangs. “I just wanted to pop in here for a brief visit before I set off into the Void. This place rather refreshes my soul, if you understand me.”
“I do understand you.” And then Sakaj did a stupid thing. She started thinking. She said, “If you travel between the Vicinities and the Void, you must know a lot about what separates different places.”
“I certainly do.” Cheg-Cheg tested the river with one claw of his nightmarish foot. “I travel them all when the mood strikes. I daresay no one knows the pathways better.”
“Well, I’ve always wondered… rather idly… about the separation—” Sakaj’s statement sliced off mid-sentence when an astounding noise flattened her to the ground.
“I’m so sorry,” Cheg-Cheg said as Sakaj crawled to her feet. “I couldn’t help laughing. Let me guess. You want to know what connects you to the world of mankind.”
“Um, yes.” Sakaj nodded. “We have some theories—”
“Ribbon of cloth,” Cheg-Cheg interrupted her. “That’s the right one. Although some of your other theories are terribly amusing. I particularly love the one about the tunnel. It’s so grotesque.”
Sakaj’s mind whirled. She now had the answer to an ages-old question. More importantly, only she had the answer. Then she did the truly stupid, ignorant, and moronic thing. “Would it be possible to, ah, affect the ribbon at all?”
“Most certainly.”
Sakaj held her breath. My children are valuable, but they’ve always been rare. Most humans are too obtuse to understand me. If I could alter the ribbon just a bit to help other sorcerers see my glory, I could make so many more trades. And get so much more power. Just a little tweak…
Sakaj explained her desire to Cheg-Cheg, and he agreed to help her with no more fuss than handing her a pebble from the ground. He explained that the sky there in the Dim Lands provided one of the closer connections between the realms, so that’s where the work should be done. She could accomplish her goal by washing the ribbon itself.
To Sakaj’s horror, Cheg-Cheg thrust a talon into the back of his appalling maw and dug out something white about the size of her head. He dropped it to her. She feared it would be part of someone he ate, but instead, it was a tough, head-size egg, warm to touch.
Cheg-Cheg instructed Sakaj to crack the egg and fling its contents into the sky, but he cautioned her to first wash herself with rigorous attention to the tiniest soil or stain. Any contamination could throw the wash awry, and the ribbon might not turn out as intended. Sakaj disrobed and bathed herself in the River of Regret, paying closest attention to her hands. Then with Cheg-Cheg watching, she broke open the egg and hurled its pearl-white contents into the sky. The jet of whiteness shot away and disappeared into the clouds.
“How will we know if it’s working?” Sakaj
