It moved across a sea, surged up the beach and accelerated over the plains, driven by the lash of the sun.
On the fabled hidden continent of Xxxx, somewhere near the rim, there is a lost colony of wizards who wear corks around their pointy hats and live on nothing but prawns. There, the light is still wild and fresh as it rolls in from space, and they surf on the boiling interface between night and day.
If one of them had been carried thousands of miles inland on the dawn, he might have seen, as the light thundered over the high plains, a stick figure toiling up a low hill in the path of the morning.
It reached the top a moment before the light arrived, took a breath, and then spun around in a crouch, grinning.
It held a long blade upright between extended arms.
Light struck…split…slid…
Not that the wizard would have paid much attention, because he’d be too busy worrying about the five-thousand-mile walk back home.
Miss Flitworth panted up as the new day streamed past. Bill Door was absolutely still, only the blade moving between his fingers as he angled it against the light.
Finally he seemed satisfied.
He turned around and swished it experimentally through the air.
Miss Flitworth stuck her hands on her hips. “Oh, come on,” she said.
She paused.
He waved the blade again.
Down in the yard, Cyril stretched his bald neck for another go. Bill Door grinned, and swung the blade toward the sound.
Then he lowered the blade.
THAT’S SHARP.
His grin faded, or at least faded as much as it was able to.
Miss Flitworth turned, following the line of his gaze until it intersected a faint haze over the cornfields.
It looked like a pale gray robe, empty but still somehow maintaining the shape of its wearer, as if a garment on a washing line was catching the breeze.
It wavered for a moment, and then vanished.
“I saw it,” said Miss Flintworth.
THAT WASN’T IT. THAT WAS THEM.
“Them who?”
THEY’RE LIKE—Bill Door waved a hand vaguely—SERVANTS. WATCHERS. AUDITORS. INSPECTORS.
Miss Flitworth’s eyes narrowed.
“Inspectors? You mean like the Revenoo?” she said.
I SUPPOSE SO—
Miss Flitworth’s face lit up.
“Why didn’t you say?”
I’M SORRY?