a vast wooden hangar.
And fair world men waited there. One was Angus Powrie, rushing across the border of the conjurer’s circle painted on the floor. The redcap helped Duncan to his feet. “Sir. Glad to have you back at last.”
Tired by his devisement, Duncan leaned heavily on the redcap’s arm. “I’m so glad to be home, Angus. I’d like you to meet my chief lieutenants: Costigan, Dominguez, Phipps.”
The three grimworlders still stared around, trying to take in the changes they’d just experienced. They snapped to attention for the introductions.
“Graces on you,” said Angus. “Big ones. I like that. My own chiefs, Alpson, Moon, Captain Walbert, who’ll be your personal pilot, are in Neckerdam. And what—” he stared openly at Adonis “—in the name of all the gods is that?” The redcap began laughing.
“The best I could do.” Alastair gave an embarrassed shrug. “Devisement is not an easy process on the grim world, and I had to work with the materials I had available. This is Adonis, which is, as they say, better than nothing. No replacement for Joseph, though.
“Now. My list is done. We can begin cutting.”
Angus left off his chuckling and nodded.
“And your list?”
“Done . . . but for the additions you so graciously sent us.” The redcap’s voice was anything but gracious.
“Ah. Well, we will eliminate them as well. Once that’s done, we can begin rebuilding. Building a new world.” Duncan looked over the small fleet of aircraft arrayed in the hangar, especially the largest of the ships, the one with the name Storm Cloud painted on its side. “You’ve done quite well, Angus.”
“I want you to have all the conveniences you need.”
“Angus? Is the ceremony done?” That call came from the far side of the hangar, and the speaker soon trotted into view: a blond man, elegant, almost inhumanly beautiful. “It is,” he continued. “I wish you’d told me.” The blond man slowed to a walk, approaching almost